Scarlett didnât know how long it had actually been since everything started. For a few weeks sheâd tried to keep track on a piece of paper but that had been quickly lost. By the time sheâd come across a notebook and a pen sheâd already decided there was no point to it, and that it didnât matter how many days had passed. Her family and friends were nowhere to be found, if they were even alive at all, so what did it matter how many days or weeks or months had been and gone? She was alone, wandering, and the only thing that eased the ache in her chest was taking out the monsters.
If they are alive, Scarlett would tell herself, if theyâre out here, I can at least make it safer for them. And so she wandered through towns and cities and deserted back roads, using a wooden staff that sheâd found on a dead man to kill whatever undead she came across. One end was smooth and round, the other sharpened to a fine point, and all along it smears of dried blood lingered. At some point sheâd stopped using it on just the undead, but couldnât remember when that was, or why. Just that it needed to be done.Â
Living people were already few and far between and, just like the supplies to be found in burnt out buildings and forgotten cabins out in the woods, became rarer and rarer to see as she travelled. At some point, subconsciously, sheâd made the decision to stay out of cities and towns for a while, because she could not tell whether the thought of seeing another human being made her feel better or worse. But eventually her supplies began to dwindle and she was left with no choice but to find somewhere to scavenge.Â
She saw the walls first, but they were hard to miss. Tall and made out of thick cement, with reinforcement along the bottom made out of old tires and other old junk. Scarlett could only see the two that stretched between two buildings up front, but she assumed that they continued around the corner, because what good were two lone walls? A woman stood atop the left hand side holding a rifle, walking back and forth, occasionally using the scope to look out into the distance.Â
The sun started to drop lower and lower in the sky as Scarlett waited and watched, but what she was waiting and watching for she wasnât sure. Sheâd never come across walls before, or people patrolling them. It meant there was something behind the walls worth guarding. Maybe supplies. Maybe people. She considered for a long while how she might sneak inside and steal a little for herself, but ultimately decided against it. She would find somewhere else, and stay away from people.Â
Just as she was about to turn away and head back into the tree line another person climbed atop the wall and looked out. Someone familiar, and unmistakable. She was only up there for a few seconds and then climbed back down, but Scarlett could tell it was Dagny, and without thinking she began to walk out into the empty street. As she approached the wall the woman with the rifle pointed it at her and told her to stop, so she did. She pulled down her hood and opened her mouth; she hadnât spoken in weeks, maybe months, and so her voice was cracked and her words sounded odd as they came out. âDagny - I saw her⊠I need to see Dagny.âÂ
Dagny was busy. Dagny had lots of things to do. It was by sheer chance, and luck, that she should be there, in that exact moment, when an old, familiar face showed up at the gates. She was talking to someone about ammunition stock when her name echoed out from the parapets, and stopped short to swing her head in the voiceâs direction. Dagny! Hey, Dagny! It was one of the settlers. Dagny did not remember her name. She was waving her arm about in an attempt to grab her attention, and received it in the form of a stern eye. Someoneâs here! She knows your name! âStop yelling!â Dagny yelled back, and far louder too, her thick accent puncturing a hole in the industrial clamour of the dayâs toils. âI am coming!âÂ
What was it now? Always something! Who could it be? Dagny rarely entertained visitors, she had better things to be doing, but since she was there, and in part because she was curious, she took quick, large strides towards the guardswoman, gripped the iron ladder handles, and vaulted herself up onto the wall. The woman, who had been standing alone before and had, at the time, looked of a moderate size, suddenly looked ten times smaller beside Dagny Ermengard, who frowned first at the guard, and then at the stranger.Â
Dagnyâs face blanched. She said nothing for ages. She didnât know what she could say. Couldnât believe what, who, she was seeing. Scarlett? â--best friend--â Dagny had given up hope that Scarlett was still alive. She thought sheâd died a long time ago. Without taking her eyes off of Scarlett, Dagny grabbed a second, passing guard by the scruff of his shirt and shoved him in the direction of the controls. âOpen door,â she ordered. When nobody moved, her face scrunched and she turned to him fully. âOpen. Door. Now!â He ran, then. As fast as his legs could take him. But Dagny couldnât wait for the large, lumbering gates to open, and, against better judgement, leapt over the high parapet and landed heavily on her feet.Â
âScarlett?â Dagny was running at her. Confusion in her face. Concern. Relief. Then, when she got closer, a wide, joyful grin, and hearty laughter. âIt is you!â
tangentwithtanner
andulkaphoto
kianamaiart
pixelskylines
kaledo-art
discoholicmusic
annaxmalina
vaporwave
