FLARE

Don’t go too far.

Gaunt had too many questions. Don’t go too far. What the hell was Lyre talking about? Was something happening? Was she going to do something?

Messing with her head. She had to remember Lyre was probably fucking with them. So far all she’d done is say cryptic nonsense, scaring the ever-loving shit out of Gaunt and probably everyone else; there was no reason to think any of it was real.

But on the off chance she was serious, then what the hell was she talking about? Who was she even talking to, for that matter? Was Gaunt also supposed to stay put?

Fuck that, she had places to be.

Scoffing, she tucked the phone away. It was about seven in the morning, and had already been light out for a bit. No time to waste. Sore from last night, she rolled off the torn-up fabrics and sat up.

First, she’d have to check on the wound. She took a moment to steel herself, pushing away various mental images of ground beef, and peeled her shirt up. It wasn’t quite that bad, but it wasn’t much better, either. Absolutely red and inflamed, swollen like fat leeches. Things just keep getting better, don’t they?

No sign of infection, but the inflammation might have been covering it up. Infection was number one priority, though, so although the idea made her shudder, Gaunt poured some more antiseptic onto one of the gauze pads and pressed it to the wound. The pain jolted through her like a live wire and she couldn’t help but groan at the touch. She managed to force her shaky arms to move it around, though not nearly as thoroughly as yesterday.

Good enough, she couldn’t take it anymore. Gasping for breath, she hauled herself to one of the bandages and wound it around. Even just the contact against her flesh stung harshly. That’s how it goes in the end of the world, though. Like she said: you just suck it up and go with the pain.

The hunger pains weren’t a necessary pain, though, so she took the time to get herself a quick breakfast. A few more of the nuts and a bit of the jerky as a treat would do. Then some water, to offset the saltiness. She was already going through water faster than she would have liked, but there should be enough for another day or so. Gaunt saved just enough water in a bottle to brush her teeth with, then splash on some of the sweatier parts of her body before pulling out the stick of deodorant she’d brought. She’d learned quickly that poor hygiene weighs faster on you than anything else.

That was everything, then. She sighed inwardly at the stretch of beaten road ahead of her. She’d have to make up for lost time, and it wouldn’t get any easier with her condition. Already feeling her skin tugging and flesh chafing, she forced herself into a long stride.

And you’d best believe she tried to keep Lyre’s words out of her mind, but there’s something particularly difficult about disobeying someone when they say very little in the first place.

Don’t go too far.

I have to. It’ll be fine.

She kept an eye out, if nothing else, just to pass the time. Funny that even after the fallout of actual Armageddon, she’d still be window shopping in the business district. Though there were plants growing through the cracks she couldn’t quite recognize, the brick facades and shattered window displays remained familiar. It was comforting until she wondered if this was what it really looked like at home. God, she really couldn’t get a break from anything.

Just a few more stores over was a display of shoes, miraculously somewhat intact. Many of the shoes were ripped up or warped under the weight of rubble, but Gaunt managed to dig up a pair of heavy-duty hiking boots. Not quite as good as her current ones, and they didn’t have spikes. But she wouldn’t be tough out of luck if her current ones wore out. Her bag grew a touch heavier.

The storefronts were becoming more dilapidated, less interesting. Green growth oozed across broken tiles and cracked pavement, trailing fingers in lazy directions. They flicked their leaves in the wind, scattering in the breeze. Some tore free and spiralled around, one even kissing the side of her face. The wind’s whistle was growing urgent, now.

Unusually strong winds. Grit was being kicked up and into her eyes, forcing her head up. Things were blurred more than they should’ve been, even through a squint; no, that was only past the horizon. A thin brown haze covered the skies just ahead. Just the same shade as the sand at her feet. Storm.

Not ideal. Gaunt couldn’t tell which direction the wind was going anymore, with debris whipping around in spiralling whirlwinds. Chances were the storm was headed straight for her, judging the breeze from the past couple hours. In which case, there’d be little hope of escape. She could hunker down, and find a fairly intact storefront, waiting for it to pass. Or hope she finds someplace better and keep going instead.

Well, she did say she had to make good time. And the last good storefront was pretty far back. Muttering a curse, she quickened her pace, straight ahead.

Face in her arm, Gaunt weaved behind buildings, keeping a wall in front of her more often than not. Still, even against a wall, things flowed around to nip her from each side. Her arms stung, left light pink imprints when she leaned against meagre shelter. And she wasn’t even in the thick of it yet.

A chunk of asphalt smacked into the wall less than a metre from her face, spilling a hot trail down the nape of her neck where she’d turned away. Screw making up for lost time. The last thing Gaunt needed was a second wound to deal with.

No more running into the storm. Back to the wall, eyes roving over bare foundations and delicate walls. Nothing that could hope to withstand a thrown stone, let alone a landslide’s worth of accelerated rubble. She racked her brain, but the most intact buildings were at least half an hour away. Even with the wind at her back, she wasn’t exactly the star of the track team.

There had to be something. Maybe if she crouched, even lay down, she could hide behind one of the foundations? But no, things were starting to come at her from behind the wall, even. She flinched away from a stray bit of glass and dove to the ground. Maybe if she hid under something… that train of thought led nowhere, but it did lead her eyes to a shallow depression in the ground.

Inhaling sharply, Gaunt scurried over, praying any concrete blocks or metal sheets would pass overhead. Slipping into the most ruined building, hardly more than a foot-high curb on the ground, she started hauling soil and debris out of the hollow. The wind kicked some of it up, driving her into a coughing fit, but after only a few seconds the blockage collapsed down below. She immediately followed into the dark.

The fall was about ten feet deep, but sloped. Her ankles only complained when they first set foot on the ground, and were fine to walk. Dark enough that she couldn’t see. Gaunt considered getting her flashlight, but the battery would only last so long.

Well, this would be it for a while. Time to get comfortable. Scooting a touch away from the entrance, she patted the floor to check for sharp or gross bits, and took a seat. Folded her hands across her knees, then stretched a leg out. Shifted a bit.

May as well pull out her phone. Kiki had sent some stuff, the storm hit them hard. Absently, Gaunt bunched her bag with her own stuff a bit closer to her. Maybe they could share when they met. Maybe they wouldn’t meet, either, but no use thinking about worst-case scenarios before they happened. She shot off a couple messages, chatting for a bit.

The wind was howling by the entrance. Banging was sounding from above, around all sides. Not so much impacting as it was destructing. Scary knowing that would’ve been her, if her eyes were a little more irritated, if she was just a bit slower on her feet. She ran a hand behind her head.

As it brushed against the wall, something else ran across it in the other direction.

She flung whatever it was across the room, and proceeded to brush it off furiously. Of course she wouldn’t be the only thing looking for shelter. She stopped scraping at her hand, cradling it gingerly. Then she put them both to use, shrugging her bag off her shoulders, and unzipping it.

She’d just have to fumble around a bit before she got the flashlight. Gaunt apparently hadn’t had the sense to put it in its own pocket, so she rifled around the various packaged goods, gauze strips, and random knickknacks scattered within. As she did so, elbow-deep, more things tickled the edges of her face, the spots between pieces of clothing. Flinching hard, she removed an arm to swat away everything on her stomach. She could not afford anything getting under the bandages.

The sensations left on her face became painful. Just little sparks at first, but they added up. She gave herself a split second to run a hand across her face and stuck it back in her bag, putting all her focus into the nerve endings of her fingertips rather than those of her facial features.

Even as she shook them off her face, more things were crawling over it – and not just her face. In seconds, more figures wormed their way under her shirt and around her bandages. Mouth and eyes shut, she kept searching with one hand while pulling her shirt down with the other. In her franticness, the bag tipped over, spilling things all over the ground. She lunged over it and started searching with renewed vigour, unable to keep the things away from her chest.

As she worked, she only became more focused. Find the flashlight. Find the bug spray, anything. As stings and welts bloomed across her skin, things were coming as fast as she could crush them, but no faster. They still hadn’t quite crawled under the bandage, either, and she figured she had a good few minutes.

Gaunt’s hand closed around a smallish cone. There. She gripped it and the room blazed into vision. The light was dimmed by a thick, squirming haze, which quickly dissipated into tiny figures that disappeared into every crevice to be found. The few that remained were either crushed into paste or otherwise completely immobile. Picking one off the back of her hand revealed it to be some kind of roach, a dim brown and longer than her index finger. Its body rapidly met the wall on the other side of her room, as did its kin as she scoured her face and arms.

Her injury. Gaunt lifted her shirt and started tracing the bandage over, but decided not to remove it. No need to expose it in these kinds of conditions. She’d assess it later. From what she saw, though, everything seemed alright; there were more bugs scattered around the bandage but somehow, none of them even got close to burrowing beneath it. Wonder how that happened, she thought as she stuck two entire fingers under the lip with no trouble.

In any case, she’d take her blessings when she could get them. She cautiously poked around the wound. The edges were still swollen, still inflamed, but no worse than before. She’d definitely settle for this.

The rest of her skin had welts, but the skin was mostly unbroken save the spot on her neck. There, the blood had already crusted over. Nothing that couldn’t be treated with what she had, and nothing nearly as bad as what she’d woken up with. All that was left was to wait out the storm, now in gentle solitude.

While she couldn’t treat her wounds, and she wasn’t risking eating anything without washing up first, Gaunt figured it was a good time to check back on her conversation with Kiki. She gathered up her things – nothing damaged, thankfully – and tucked them back in her bag, askew. Then she pulled out her phone. As the conversation trailed off, so did the gale outside. In mere minutes it was nearly quiet, and Gaunt figured it was time to head out.

Before leaving, of course, she sprayed down the walls with a conservative amount of her bug spray. Just in case she ever came back, or maybe as a favour to whoever needed a bunker here in the near future. Then she turned to the entryway. It was steep, but rough enough to have handholds, and clearly sturdy enough to hold up in the storm. Gaunt managed to heave herself out with minimal trouble. She had a couple more hours to travel down the old road before the sun began to set.

Buildings were becoming sparse, but she did find an old Starbucks with at least three walls that she’d probably survive in. There was enough debris to build a makeshift scaffold around the collapsed wall, closing herself in save for the doorframe, which she blocked off with a couple boards and the last intact table. Nothing soft, but her spine could take a night on a couple chairs. But as much as she dreaded it, there was one last responsibility. She pulled out her last bottle of water and her bar of soap, and washed off her hands.

Well, time to rip off the band-aid. In a couple ways. Tossing the cloth in a coil on the ground, Gaunt was met with… it was calmer. Less angry red, skin not pulled quite as taut against the bare meat. Certainly not what she expected from being attacked by vermin. Huh. Still, no reason to take unnecessary risks, as much as she wished she could just skip applying the antiseptic for the night. After forcing herself through another sanitary ordeal, she took to sterilising the raw spot on her neck, which was much easier to bear.

She almost didn’t feel like eating. She wasn’t hungry, nor tired. But again, no point making stupid decisions. She was starting to look forward to her talks with Kiki, even though it meant going through Spike, who was probably trying to take advantage of them rather than socialise, and Lyre, who was just a weird little bastard. And also even though she barely knew Kiki, which was historically a big red flag for her. But it was a stressful time, and Gaunt saw no harm in trying to support each other.

There were things she should keep a secret, too, obviously. Maybe she was an oversharer sometimes, but only for unimportant things. She wouldn’t put her life on the line or anything.

So even as she talked through the night, her mind was completely alone as she wondered, why can I hardly feel the injury at all?