It was the year 2035 when the first bomb fell on Westyield. Radioactive pollution disseminating field growth from one country to the next, animals growing extra heads, and cancer killing off populations like a virus. The uncontrollable fall of humankind reached the New Fellows.
Once, mermaids were seen on the coasts as freaks of the folks but now, they lead medicinal research and somehow found a cure to the many diseases inflicting the breathing. Recently, Sealant could hardly believe the beings evolved legs and was the one who attached her the droidsprig.
She barely remembered the operation. The blur between extreme white to black in a blink of an eye lay as a bad dream. But what had been planted in her very mind other than the never-ending anguish on her joint was the mer’s face.
“You can call me Danio,” he once told her while she was trapped in her burning warehouse. When she felt something cold on her forehead, that was when her body pushed her across ash fields and the ring of her cash register, reacting to the outside world doing the most unknown of things.
Drowning in a wave of nausea, it took time for this Danio’s face to stop spinning, revealing finned ears and stripped scales upon the sun’s rays penetrating the ward. There were pipes and an oxygen mask fastened to her face. At first, she thought of the bizarre creature blink and smile outside of their waters. She have seen mers before but they did not put cold press on your forehead and speak the common tongue.
He sighed, “I’m glad you survived. I was not sure if humans could with the amount of blood you lost.”
Sealant was left blank and simply stared.
It took him time to realize her still stray mind when the silence spurred for two more minutes. The mer really knew how to goggle because it was a Bearer entering the room that broke their competition.
When the door was closed, “Danio,” the Bearer called. Still in her porcelain armor but without the helmet, the familiar face of Frisk came into view.
“Ah. Bearer, good that you’re here,” the mer melted from his focus and turned to the mercenary. “I think she is awake.”
Her dark face squinted when Sealant, could not, she realized close her eyes. “Are you sure?”
Confident of his observation, Danio defended, “She just can’t move because her nerves are still processing the new limb. Give her time.”
“Does can’t move include red eyes?”
“Even the simple muscle reflexes can’t after hours of droidsprig attachment…”
“Bearer’s bosom, Danio, she can’t blink!”
And that’s why tears were running down her eyes that evening. As her companions stop for camp, the Hawker carried her from the carriage couch, amongst from the storage bungle, and placed her unmoving form on a folding bed inside a raised tent. The masked individual was starting a fire when they passed him and took notice of her watering eyes.
“Um, is she alright?” a muffled voice was heard from the gas mask.
The Hawker paused and he himself checked her unblinking eyes. “Right… she’s fine,” he continued his transfer. “Her doctor said she will need drops if her eyes were red. Losing muscle reflex and all. But if she’s not,” he tucked her into more blankets and spoke like she was not listening, “well, no trouble. Me thinks she’ll finally move tomorrow with the crying and all.”
“Mm,” the masked nodded.
She was not crying, Sealant screamed inside her mind. She was not.
She was crying. It was good she learned to breathe before the Bearers sent her off for escape. As she slowly gained muscle movement, so did the fiery memory of her personal library burning, pipes exploding to pressure, and the surprised face Collen gave her when the explosion swallowed her whole. She sniffed and realized she was able to clench her face in a grimace when both the pain on her deltoid and ache on her chest brought her nerves back to life.
With the roof of her tent her only reminder of where she was now, Sealant cried into the night. Her convulsion ringing into the barren night.
They had settled in an old camping area, just at the ridges of dead country and the last of surviving concrete. It was the common ground for travelers who were towards east and they were lucky enough to find no travelers like them in the same expedition.
Melted trailers and bricked firesides were stationed to provide a least of protection and safe sleep. Kith stoked his living light before sauntering to the carriage for his bed roll. Climbing up, he was just reaching for his rations as well when he noticed the empty barrels and crates. He was still wondering when the Hawker would start poaching when he tagged on his knapsack and the leathered cover of one crate fell off.
Kith froze when he was about to reach the cover when he glimpsed of what was clearly trayed RPG shells. The sinking sun was able to reach inside the carriage and was enough to tell Kith the names marked white on each ammo. Giant. Droid. Dragon…
Breaking free from the apex predator’s arsenal, who is his companion for the entire trip, Kith returned the cover and left the carriage with the new mindset. He was not going to put his things too far back next time.
He had first the amazing thought to sleep beneath the carriage, the tiled roofing and all, before death was but a bump away. He lied then across the raised tent, just close to the fire for warmth.
Settling down, his ration consisted of a bag filled with dried meat, fried biscuits, and even canned legumes. Lucky. It was a lucky meal.
His mask had a switch at the bottom, flicking it would open a porthole enough for food to pass through. Munching in silence, the quiet dinner was not forlorn enough had the sniffling from the tent made his meal taste bland. The woman was crying, he summed, not just teary.
Conscience taking over, Kith was about to rise to feed the paralyzed load when the Hawker came out of the dried wood. The hunter was carrying on his back marred cattle. Probably a mutated deer and sprawled its bloody remnants on the ground. The smell of gore spoiling another bite on Kith's lucky meal.
“With the two of you here, I’ll go hunting for the night,” Coursier started as he spilled the carcass’ contents on the camp. “Sleep as much as you can when you finish eating.” Already discouraged, Kith but hid his food back to the bag. “For the time being, I’ll be preparing bait and I’ll wake you once I go.”
Kith grunted.
“Guard the night. We won’t find much breathers skulking, but for the unbreathing, watch for their asses.”
