Post by Alice Wilde on Nov 7, 2008 14:52:37 GMT -5
Chapter 5: Universally Acknowledged
It is a truth universally acknowledged that, in times of tragedy, a single woman must be in want of companionship. This was the reason, J, tapping the streets of New York with her cane, intended to find the Adam State look-alike she had known in 2008. It was unlikely that he'd be at her high school after graduation, college and the gamma ray.
It was also unlikely that he would be alive but she would not let herself think that. He was alive and would continue to be until she killed him with a croquet mallet she intended to obtain in exchange for her bejeweled cane. Her stomach rumbled. She stared ahead.
Vomit crept up her throat. The same feelings that always accompanied her visits to institutions of education. The school was devoid of activity, as devoid as the 667 had been earlier that morning. People were struggling to put their lives back together, she understood. But the only person who seemed to be on 667 was M.
M. J hoped to never see her again and, should she ever see her, to spit on her face. To chop her up into little bits and then take the bits and jump on them. She couldn't remember, of course, why it was that M. caused her such animosity. But M did.
A sound came from behind her. J. paused.
As far as she was concerned, New York was deserted. There wasn't anyone else. Unless... She tightened her grip on the cane. No. That was impossible.
She took off. The sounds of her shoes upon the ground were not the only footsteps she heard. A voice called her, told her to turn around. J. was running as fast as she ever had before, toward the look-alike. Toward her past.
The gamma ray had changed the city, making it possible to maneuver without stepping on someone's else toes or gum. It gave her a lonely feeling. She thought for a moment of the 667ers she had not heard from since the ray...Of Pandora, whose last post mentioned something about missing the anniversary to go to a birthday party. Of Kate and Ann, whose last post had been five years ago.
Those footsteps were growing louder.
She did not remember the name of the Adam State look-alike so she shoved open the front doors, screamed "Adam! Adam!" and whomever it was chasing her echoed. Together they wandered the halls of her high school, their screams a hideous cacophony. J. did not want to turn around. She wanted to find him. She scoured her school, evading her follower.
Then she ran into the wall of her cafeteria.
It knocked her backward. Her head thumped against the linoleum. The footsteps behind her ceased. She shut her eyes and prayed that her follower was a serial killer. A rapist. Anyone but...
M said. "Hey J."
J grabbed her cane. She rose, wobbly, to her feet. A thin trail of blood oozed from her temple. She pressed her hand to it. Wrinkled her nose. How could she appear so weak now? Using the same blood-tinted finger, she pressed the jewel on her cane. A blade popped out.
She held it to M's throat. "You don't know how long I've wanted to do this. But, first, I'm curious. Why are you here?"
"You're hurt." M pulled a Kleenex out her coat. "Let me help you."
J jerked away. "Don't you touch me!"
The blade scraped M's neck, leaving a shallow cut. She dabbed the Kleenex on her throat. "Was that necessary?"
"Absolutely. Why are you here?"
M rolled her eyes. "You'll probably have a concussion, you know. And I don't know a doctor that's alive."
The two of them stood in silence, remembering the dead. Both of their parents had been outside when the ray struck. Most of their friends had been playing Dungeons and Dragons in the park. And the 667ers... J blinked back tears.
"Look, either tell me or I'll--"
"I followed you for the same reason you came here looking for that guy you thought would make a good Adam State if they ever made a Basic Eight movie. You're lonely, you need someone to be with."
J rubbed her head. "For the last time, M, I'm not making out with you."
"Stop trying to make jokes. I know all about how you're feeling right now. I know that you haven't eaten in two days. I know that your brothers died and that your roommate didn't even tell you good-bye before she left that morning. I know because the same things have happened to me." M threw the Kleenex down. "Things have changed, J. We must as well."
"Well, that would be a very good it's-the-end-of-the-world-we-must-procreate-to-preserve-our-race speech, if, you know, we actually were capable of reproduction."
"I am not talking about sleeping with you, J. I'm talking about the two of us teaming up to survive. And the first rule of surviving," M took another tissue from her pocket. "is not to get hurt."
She took two steps forward and wiped the blood from J's face in an upward motion. She whimpered. M told her to blink her eyes, to count backward from one hundred, to name the president of the United States before the ray had hit.
"Barack Obama, much to Facob and Libby's chagrin." J paused. "M., are you serious? You want to help me survive? Or this some sort of trick?"
"I want to help you only if you want to help me."
J licked her lips. "Well, I...I don't...really...Look, I'm not good with this sort of thing, so here goes. I--"
She stopped. M looked at her.
"--am--"
She drew a deep breath.
"--sorry. I am so sorry. For everything."
M smiled. "Really?"
She knew that the months ahead would not be easy but this small concession, this small apology, was the first leap forward toward a new life. She remembered the times before the ray, before high school, when she and J used to hang out. Those had been good days. And now, M thought, her hope renewed, it would be the two of them again, two friends once more, against the world.
J laughed. "No."
It is a truth universally acknowledged that, in times of tragedy, a single woman must be in want of companionship. However, another truth universally acknowledged is that, in times of hunger, a single woman will stab her enemies with her swordcane and eat them while singing songs from the musical Sweeney Todd in between bites.
--
guest writer, trag, really? 667 is my home, i'm not important enough to be a guest.
It is a truth universally acknowledged that, in times of tragedy, a single woman must be in want of companionship. This was the reason, J, tapping the streets of New York with her cane, intended to find the Adam State look-alike she had known in 2008. It was unlikely that he'd be at her high school after graduation, college and the gamma ray.
It was also unlikely that he would be alive but she would not let herself think that. He was alive and would continue to be until she killed him with a croquet mallet she intended to obtain in exchange for her bejeweled cane. Her stomach rumbled. She stared ahead.
Vomit crept up her throat. The same feelings that always accompanied her visits to institutions of education. The school was devoid of activity, as devoid as the 667 had been earlier that morning. People were struggling to put their lives back together, she understood. But the only person who seemed to be on 667 was M.
M. J hoped to never see her again and, should she ever see her, to spit on her face. To chop her up into little bits and then take the bits and jump on them. She couldn't remember, of course, why it was that M. caused her such animosity. But M did.
A sound came from behind her. J. paused.
As far as she was concerned, New York was deserted. There wasn't anyone else. Unless... She tightened her grip on the cane. No. That was impossible.
She took off. The sounds of her shoes upon the ground were not the only footsteps she heard. A voice called her, told her to turn around. J. was running as fast as she ever had before, toward the look-alike. Toward her past.
The gamma ray had changed the city, making it possible to maneuver without stepping on someone's else toes or gum. It gave her a lonely feeling. She thought for a moment of the 667ers she had not heard from since the ray...Of Pandora, whose last post mentioned something about missing the anniversary to go to a birthday party. Of Kate and Ann, whose last post had been five years ago.
Those footsteps were growing louder.
She did not remember the name of the Adam State look-alike so she shoved open the front doors, screamed "Adam! Adam!" and whomever it was chasing her echoed. Together they wandered the halls of her high school, their screams a hideous cacophony. J. did not want to turn around. She wanted to find him. She scoured her school, evading her follower.
Then she ran into the wall of her cafeteria.
It knocked her backward. Her head thumped against the linoleum. The footsteps behind her ceased. She shut her eyes and prayed that her follower was a serial killer. A rapist. Anyone but...
M said. "Hey J."
J grabbed her cane. She rose, wobbly, to her feet. A thin trail of blood oozed from her temple. She pressed her hand to it. Wrinkled her nose. How could she appear so weak now? Using the same blood-tinted finger, she pressed the jewel on her cane. A blade popped out.
She held it to M's throat. "You don't know how long I've wanted to do this. But, first, I'm curious. Why are you here?"
"You're hurt." M pulled a Kleenex out her coat. "Let me help you."
J jerked away. "Don't you touch me!"
The blade scraped M's neck, leaving a shallow cut. She dabbed the Kleenex on her throat. "Was that necessary?"
"Absolutely. Why are you here?"
M rolled her eyes. "You'll probably have a concussion, you know. And I don't know a doctor that's alive."
The two of them stood in silence, remembering the dead. Both of their parents had been outside when the ray struck. Most of their friends had been playing Dungeons and Dragons in the park. And the 667ers... J blinked back tears.
"Look, either tell me or I'll--"
"I followed you for the same reason you came here looking for that guy you thought would make a good Adam State if they ever made a Basic Eight movie. You're lonely, you need someone to be with."
J rubbed her head. "For the last time, M, I'm not making out with you."
"Stop trying to make jokes. I know all about how you're feeling right now. I know that you haven't eaten in two days. I know that your brothers died and that your roommate didn't even tell you good-bye before she left that morning. I know because the same things have happened to me." M threw the Kleenex down. "Things have changed, J. We must as well."
"Well, that would be a very good it's-the-end-of-the-world-we-must-procreate-to-preserve-our-race speech, if, you know, we actually were capable of reproduction."
"I am not talking about sleeping with you, J. I'm talking about the two of us teaming up to survive. And the first rule of surviving," M took another tissue from her pocket. "is not to get hurt."
She took two steps forward and wiped the blood from J's face in an upward motion. She whimpered. M told her to blink her eyes, to count backward from one hundred, to name the president of the United States before the ray had hit.
"Barack Obama, much to Facob and Libby's chagrin." J paused. "M., are you serious? You want to help me survive? Or this some sort of trick?"
"I want to help you only if you want to help me."
J licked her lips. "Well, I...I don't...really...Look, I'm not good with this sort of thing, so here goes. I--"
She stopped. M looked at her.
"--am--"
She drew a deep breath.
"--sorry. I am so sorry. For everything."
M smiled. "Really?"
She knew that the months ahead would not be easy but this small concession, this small apology, was the first leap forward toward a new life. She remembered the times before the ray, before high school, when she and J used to hang out. Those had been good days. And now, M thought, her hope renewed, it would be the two of them again, two friends once more, against the world.
J laughed. "No."
It is a truth universally acknowledged that, in times of tragedy, a single woman must be in want of companionship. However, another truth universally acknowledged is that, in times of hunger, a single woman will stab her enemies with her swordcane and eat them while singing songs from the musical Sweeney Todd in between bites.
--
guest writer, trag, really? 667 is my home, i'm not important enough to be a guest.