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rainbowfic2013-10-08 11:19 am
auguris) wrote in rainbowfic2013-10-08 11:19 am
Dirt Brown 3, Summertime Blues 18
Name: auguris
'verse: After The World
Story: Escape III (I | II)
Colors: Dirt Brown 3. Brown, Summertime Blues 18. Bummer of a trip
Supplies and Styles: Pastels: silence, Novelty Bead fromclare_dragonfly: that is not my blood on the bedroom floor
Word Count: 936
Rating: R
Warnings: Blood
Summary: They reach Granton to find the town empty. Concrit welcome.
They reached a crossway and turned onto route 31, at Jean's direction. The tree line retreated, giving space to bright green state-tended grass and spaced out houses and baby strip malls. If the SUV's clock could be trusted it was the middle of the afternoon, yet they didn't pass anyone else on the road. More than a few cars sat on the side of the road, assumedly abandoned. She kept an eye out, but she didn't see any movement at any of the buildings, either.
"Down this way," she murmured. "We're not far."
"I don't think this is safe," Max murmured back, but did as asked.
The houses grew closer together as they approached what passed for downtown Granton before turning into a small army of used car places and the body shops attached to them. The gas station, the convenience store, the gas station that was a convenience store, the coffee shop, the other coffee shop, the grown up strip mall, and then a series of houses split into apartments. "Third one down."
Max didn't bother with parking spaces. Jean stepped out of the car, watching for broken glass and stray pebbles.
"Is it usually this empty?"
Jean wasn't sure if he meant the building or the whole damn town; either way: "No."
She didn't have her keys, but it didn't matter: the building's front door hung open, the top hinge gone and the bottom hinge bent. Jean took the narrow staircase one step at a time, her gut heavy, sure another guard clone was waiting for her.
Her apartment's doorknob lay in a bed of wooden shards in front of her door. The usual creak echoed louder than she remembered. She stepped into her kitchen: sink half full of dirty dishes, stupid orange curtains, huge red stain on the linoleum.
She knelt, her fingers shaking as she placed them against the floor. Dry. A knife lay under the sink cabinet. One of her knives, had been Dana's but she'd left them behind, a cheap set of kitchen knives that needed to be sharpened but Dana had taken the whetstone and Jean hadn't bothered to go find a new one but maybe if she had then.
Then what?
A hand touched her shoulder and she jumped to her feet but it was only Max. He put his hands up. "Sorry." He nodded towards the stain. "That is a lot of blood."
Jean touched her abdomen, not knowing why.
Morning light steaming in through the window--
--but it was afternoon, now. Not so bright.
"I'm going to get dressed."
"Sure. I'll just. Stay here with the blood stain."
"Keep it company," she murmured and he laughed, a little too high-pitched.
She shut her bedroom door behind her, yanking off the plastic shirt and staring at herself in the mirror. Aside from her sudden baldness she looked the same, didn't she? Two blue eyes, one slightly crooked nose, an almost full set of white-ish teeth, whitest of white girl skin. Decent tits. Innie bellybutton.
No scar on her thigh.
She brushed her hand over the spot -- maybe it was a trick of the light, or lack of light -- but no. It was gone. Fifteen years ago she'd ridden her bike into the Thompson's fence and lost a chunk of her leg, and today she had it back.
"What the fuck is going on?" she asked the mirror, but her other self had no answer.
She dressed in boxers and sports bra, jeans and a t-shirt, worn boots and her thick brown leather jacket that Dana teased her for. You think you're a cowboy? You work in a bookstore.
She retrieved her gun case from the top shelf of her closet. It was supposed to be locked but it wasn't like they had kids. They weren't even a they anymore. Just Jean. Dana never bothered to check, anyway.
After loading the Glock she tucked it into her belt and went searching for her old backpack. Whatever was going on out there, the shit had clearly hit the fan -- staying here was not an option.
"Jean?" Max knocked on the door. "You should see this."
Through the kitchen window she spotted a trio of men, different from the hospital guards but identical to each other -- tan skin, brown hair, and. "Their eyes are glowing." She looked back at Max. "Am I seeing things or are their eyes fucking glowing?"
"Like LEDs," Max whispered. His eyes had gone wide. "The same as the guys taking people in Boston."
"You didn't mention the eyes." She handed him her backpack. Old and thread-worn but their only option. "Grab everything non-perishable. I have water bottles in there, fill two of them." It wouldn't last long but it was better than nothing.
"Is the tap water drinkable?"
"It's more drinkable than no water." She hurried back to her room and grabbed a change of clothes. By the time she returned Max had grabbed every can she had -- beans, tuna fish and potatoes -- and had the first water bottle filled. She tucked her clothes into the backpack and grabbed the filled bottle.
"You have a gun," Max said.
"You have eyes," she replied. "Look, man, I don't know what your plan is, but everyone's gone. We have to look after ourselves."
Max stared at her, failing to notice the remaining water bottle spill over. "Are you a cop or something?"
Jean snorted. "Definitely not. We should go before those blue-eyed creeps find us."
auguris'verse: After The World
Story: Escape III (I | II)
Colors: Dirt Brown 3. Brown, Summertime Blues 18. Bummer of a trip
Supplies and Styles: Pastels: silence, Novelty Bead from
clare_dragonfly: that is not my blood on the bedroom floorWord Count: 936
Rating: R
Warnings: Blood
Summary: They reach Granton to find the town empty. Concrit welcome.
They reached a crossway and turned onto route 31, at Jean's direction. The tree line retreated, giving space to bright green state-tended grass and spaced out houses and baby strip malls. If the SUV's clock could be trusted it was the middle of the afternoon, yet they didn't pass anyone else on the road. More than a few cars sat on the side of the road, assumedly abandoned. She kept an eye out, but she didn't see any movement at any of the buildings, either.
"Down this way," she murmured. "We're not far."
"I don't think this is safe," Max murmured back, but did as asked.
The houses grew closer together as they approached what passed for downtown Granton before turning into a small army of used car places and the body shops attached to them. The gas station, the convenience store, the gas station that was a convenience store, the coffee shop, the other coffee shop, the grown up strip mall, and then a series of houses split into apartments. "Third one down."
Max didn't bother with parking spaces. Jean stepped out of the car, watching for broken glass and stray pebbles.
"Is it usually this empty?"
Jean wasn't sure if he meant the building or the whole damn town; either way: "No."
She didn't have her keys, but it didn't matter: the building's front door hung open, the top hinge gone and the bottom hinge bent. Jean took the narrow staircase one step at a time, her gut heavy, sure another guard clone was waiting for her.
Her apartment's doorknob lay in a bed of wooden shards in front of her door. The usual creak echoed louder than she remembered. She stepped into her kitchen: sink half full of dirty dishes, stupid orange curtains, huge red stain on the linoleum.
She knelt, her fingers shaking as she placed them against the floor. Dry. A knife lay under the sink cabinet. One of her knives, had been Dana's but she'd left them behind, a cheap set of kitchen knives that needed to be sharpened but Dana had taken the whetstone and Jean hadn't bothered to go find a new one but maybe if she had then.
Then what?
A hand touched her shoulder and she jumped to her feet but it was only Max. He put his hands up. "Sorry." He nodded towards the stain. "That is a lot of blood."
Jean touched her abdomen, not knowing why.
Morning light steaming in through the window--
--but it was afternoon, now. Not so bright.
"I'm going to get dressed."
"Sure. I'll just. Stay here with the blood stain."
"Keep it company," she murmured and he laughed, a little too high-pitched.
She shut her bedroom door behind her, yanking off the plastic shirt and staring at herself in the mirror. Aside from her sudden baldness she looked the same, didn't she? Two blue eyes, one slightly crooked nose, an almost full set of white-ish teeth, whitest of white girl skin. Decent tits. Innie bellybutton.
No scar on her thigh.
She brushed her hand over the spot -- maybe it was a trick of the light, or lack of light -- but no. It was gone. Fifteen years ago she'd ridden her bike into the Thompson's fence and lost a chunk of her leg, and today she had it back.
"What the fuck is going on?" she asked the mirror, but her other self had no answer.
She dressed in boxers and sports bra, jeans and a t-shirt, worn boots and her thick brown leather jacket that Dana teased her for. You think you're a cowboy? You work in a bookstore.
She retrieved her gun case from the top shelf of her closet. It was supposed to be locked but it wasn't like they had kids. They weren't even a they anymore. Just Jean. Dana never bothered to check, anyway.
After loading the Glock she tucked it into her belt and went searching for her old backpack. Whatever was going on out there, the shit had clearly hit the fan -- staying here was not an option.
"Jean?" Max knocked on the door. "You should see this."
Through the kitchen window she spotted a trio of men, different from the hospital guards but identical to each other -- tan skin, brown hair, and. "Their eyes are glowing." She looked back at Max. "Am I seeing things or are their eyes fucking glowing?"
"Like LEDs," Max whispered. His eyes had gone wide. "The same as the guys taking people in Boston."
"You didn't mention the eyes." She handed him her backpack. Old and thread-worn but their only option. "Grab everything non-perishable. I have water bottles in there, fill two of them." It wouldn't last long but it was better than nothing.
"Is the tap water drinkable?"
"It's more drinkable than no water." She hurried back to her room and grabbed a change of clothes. By the time she returned Max had grabbed every can she had -- beans, tuna fish and potatoes -- and had the first water bottle filled. She tucked her clothes into the backpack and grabbed the filled bottle.
"You have a gun," Max said.
"You have eyes," she replied. "Look, man, I don't know what your plan is, but everyone's gone. We have to look after ourselves."
Max stared at her, failing to notice the remaining water bottle spill over. "Are you a cop or something?"
Jean snorted. "Definitely not. We should go before those blue-eyed creeps find us."
no subject
You're doing a really excellent job hinting at things here without outright explaining them. Nice suspence.
no subject
no subject
I think you mean "lost a chunk of her leg"? I make that typo a lot myself. ^^;
no subject
Thank you! I love apocalypse stories too, but zombies are kind of done and nuclear fallout doesn't interest me much.
no subject
Jean was very smart here; at least they were able to get back to her place and grab some stuff before things got really bad.
no subject
Jean is pretty good with the practical stuff, which is good because she's pretty bad with everything else.