Chapter 1

Marco POV

“Can I tie your shoes? I can’t have you falling for anyone else”, I laid the line on the gorgeous dame in front of me with the flirtiest smile I could muster. Those piercing forest green eyes rolled and steadied on me through long, straight, raven black tresses. Her shapely eyebrow arched in skepticism, “Seriously?” Her humble voice was like silk, no – satin. Yes, rich, glossy, satin with a Scottish intonation.  Especially rich considering that she had a bracelet of rubies we’d found lying around sitting pleasantly on her alabaster skin whilst she rummaged through onslaught of untouched non-biodegradable snacks behind abandoned the bar.

With a light scoff at my antics, she turned back to the bag of Funyuns in her hands, a ghost of a smile appearing before the usual frown replaced itself as she stashed them in the duffle bag. With a touch of spite, I tried again, “Wanna wear my jersey? It has my name and number.” She hardly suppressed her chuckle, so I laid down another, “I’m good at algebra, I’ll replace your X, and you won’t need to figure out Y. Your single, I’m single. Coincidence? I think not. Are you my appendix? Because I don’t understand how you work but this feeling in my stomach makes me want to take you out.”

 

She raised her eyebrow again with a disapproving glance, “Stop it.” When I just smirked, “So do you have a name or should I just call you mine?”

 

Fallon just rolled her eyes hard with an ‘over it’ expression, moving from behind the bar to examine the viability of the candles on the restaurant tables. “Marco, do you even have a serious bone in your body?” Dominika blew past me from the kitchen, long platinum hair whooshing behind her. Her broken English and thick Russian accent made it difficult to decipher her words, but having been around her for so long had made it a touch easier to understand.

 

I scoffed hard and crossed my arms, leaning my back on the bar, “You know I do, why? Do you have any sense of humor?”

 

The Russian paused in the rearranging of her loot bag, to look up at me with an icy stare. I’m a tough guy, categorized with a heart of stone, but no matter how sure, that look has a way of inciting fear in even the bravest of men. The only glower that could best it was that of our leader, and that was only because she had experienced more in her seventeen years. There were six of us on the council who were seventeen, and we’d all had some weathering years. My face remained unchanged, although there was a moment sheer uncertainty. “Of course I do. Don’t you remember that week you thought I was going to kill you?” Those berry red lips twisted into a sadistic smile while mine frowned and contorted.

 

“That was cruel! I spent that week saying goodbye to everyone I care about, and it all turned out to be a joke.” Dominika burst out in unfair laughter as Fallon returned, shaking her head with a full bag on her hip.

 

“We need to rendezvous with Amaya, Lok ‘n’ Agnes. Who knows where they could’ve gotten off tae”, Fallon was back to normal behavior, worrying endlessly beneath an exterior so cold she was practically frigid. Dominika sobered up quickly, a stoic expression taking over us both. Dominika picked up her bag; I nodded, raising mine as well. Without another word Fallon marched quickly past us and stopped at the exit, readying her rifle. We followed suit, nodding somberly, she tore open the door, cold winds blowing through and pushing us all back a step. We filed outwards, crouching low and moving swiftly out of the building, heading towards the fountain. It was the rendezvous point, easily found at the center of the city, surrounded by three skyscrapers. There were only three roads out of the city heart, making it ideal.  The three of us moved like a tactical team, back to back. The only sound that could be heard for miles around was the lashing wind.

 

We rested on the fountain, settling uneasily around its cement edge. Fallon stood, searching for any sign of Nukies. She was a tall and slender 5’6’’, muscular build with high cheekbones and attractive, stern looking features. She looked like a statue with how still she was standing; it was hard to tell which direction her emotions would take. Red bandana pulled up as a mask against the disease over her nose and mouth, Company insignia clear on the front. Black fingerless gloves and purple wrist bands just beneath those. A metal cuff on her bicep just below the tattoo of the insignia on her deltoid. Armored breastplate held by leather strap, tattoo of a long winged grey falcon spread all the way across her entire chest visible just above it. That tattoo was the first one she'd ever gotten, after she had coined the alias Falcon. Her pale torso was otherwise uncovered, with the exception of the red rag at her hips secured with leather straps. The green camouflage cargo pants she wore were nearly decorated on one side with pins from every country. Adorned with a large chunk of armor attached from the bottom of her left hip halfway down her femur as well. She had a double strap gun holster on her thigh, nearly hidden by the rag above it. Down on her left calf was her knife holster, just above the tie of her boots. They were charcoal black combat boots, she'd secretly loved them so because of the spikes on the toes.

 

There were only three minutes of peace we’d received before we heard it. Low groaning and screams echoed through the streets between the buildings like a raven’s call, marking a victim for death. Dominika and I perked up grimly, my hands tightened around the rifle, knuckles going white. The commotion had come from our left; I stood, moving past the fountain with my rifle up.

 

“I got it.” I saw Fallon nod once from my peripheral as they rounded the corner. A grimace grew over my features as the Nukies came into focus. It was a pair of women, their condition poor.

 

The first was a brunette by the looks of it, middle aged face; she had a severe limp and open slash across her stomach. She was making noise, a throaty moaning bellow; it seemed all she could do, she must’ve already lost control in the muscles of her jaw, losing the ability to form words. I hit her with the butt of the rifle as she reached for me. She stumbled back heavily as the other crept forward. The other woman was even more unsettling, having been exposed to more radiation. Her skin was scorched on half her body, the right side of her face burnt and skin bubbling vulgarly. Her clothing was singed crispy along the one side, torn open and hanging limply, and leaving her blistered skin exposed. Her entire form was mangled and disfigured. Her eyes were dead, black and angry that that she was made into such a spectacle.

 

With a heavy hearted sigh I took a step and spun in a heel kick, foot impacting on her jaw. The rotting skin gave way as it broke, mandible hanging grotesquely by it’s tendons. She made a grab for my face, hand losing traction and sliding over my buzz cut. I snatched the blade from it’s holster, driving it upwards through her jaw. I had just enough time to rip it out when the brunette hefted her weight onto my back, the force and surprise threw the knife from my hand, skittering a few feet away.

 

I took a cautionary step as the extra mass was added and leaned forwards, attempting to maintain balance. Her vile breath was hot and sticky with halitosis and mutated bacteria. I grabbed her greying skin at the elbows, pulling and flipping her over. Taking a step around, I made for my blade as to finish her off.  The piercing crack and echo of a gunshot stunned my already on edge nerves. I stumbled to the brick terrain, bewilderment clear across my features as I glanced back at her body, the black sludge gingerly pooling around her shattered skull, and back at the fountain. Dominika was replacing her pistol back in it’s holster at her hip.

 

“I had that”, I snarked at her from across the quart yard, snatching up the blade from the ground.

 

“You had jack squat”, She stated uncaringly, propping her foot up on the fountain and resting her elbow on it. Fallon cracked smirk, and pursed her lips to avoid a smile.

I made a face and sauntered over, sarcastic reply poised on my lips. A high, feminine voice called out before I could speak, “Marco! Wou’d you stop actin’ the maggot and help us?” Agnes and Lok were supporting a limping blush faced Amaya. With a sigh, I jogged over, arms supporting the behind her knees and back, moving her small form to the fountain ledge.

 

“What does that mean again? ‘Acting the maggot’”, Dominika squinted, standing straight up, her heavy enunciation turning her W’s into subtle V’s and Th into a vague D sound.

Fallon chimed from above her, eyes still inspecting our surroundings for threats while Agnes aimed a playful glare that seemed anything but towards her blonde companion, “It means to screw around.”

 

Dominika made an over exaggerated ‘o’ shape with her mouth, nodding like you would when a toddler tells you that they’re 2 years old and you have to act like it’s new information. I smothered a chuckle and put a hand over my mouth to cover the smile. I could see Agnes stewing inside; the side of her upper lip twitched like it only did when she was all steamed up. I turned to Lok, who had his signature smile on.  

 

That’s what I like most about Lok; he was just a happy guy. His name literally means happy, and for good reason. He hardly talks, which I don’t mind. Because the best part about the guy is that he doesn’t have a negative bone in his body. The only time I saw him unhappy was in the beginning, and that was because he had to say goodbye to his mom and baby brother, who had a bad heart and an attention deficit. But, everyone was unhappy then. The guy has a killer smile, so bright and big that his eyes squinted to the point where we couldn’t see them anymore. Not that we really could anyways, his shaggy hair hung well past his eyes.

 

“It go well?” I patted the side of his arm to get his attention; he turned and nodded animatedly, smile stretching even farther than I thought possible. I grinned, “Good. What happened to you Amaya?”

 

Fallon’s head snapped down to the small Japanese girl as if just noticing she was injured. She jumped down from her perch, squatting with a frown and taking inspecting the injury. Amaya bashfully turned her face down with an embarrassed smile, red standing out brilliantly against her pale flesh. She spoke softly in her own slightly broken English, “We searched. I thought I saw berries. They were jus’ out of reach. I could almost reach them, but my foot slip, and twisted.” Her accented English was much like that of Dominika’s, Th resembling a T, and d almost silent. She gasped softly and quickly reached for said appendage when Fallon twisted it wrong.

 

“Ye were lucky, it’s only a sprain.” She removed an ace bandage from her bag, wrapping up the limb tightly. Fallon stood, muscles tense, “We should get goin’, if we leave now we can be home ‘fore dark sets in.” Fallon speaking always put a miniature grin on my face; it’s not that I was laughing at her, but that her accent is richer than that of Agnes. Despite the slight difference that Agnes is Irish, and Fallon is a Scot. The Et in Get was closer to an I, and there was one roll of the R in Sprain and dark, but not in the end of Before. I thought it interesting that Before and Dark had a slight rhyme as well.

 

We each heaved up our bags, Lok lugging Amaya’s load despite him being such a slight guy. Fallon headed the front, leading back to base. Dominika and I just behind her, Amaya and Lok just behind us, and Agnes pulling us the rear. It was the formation; it’s kept us safe since it all starts.

 

Nobody spoke on the walk back home; it was always supposed to be for safeties sake. Don’t draw attention, bring all the Nukies about. But we all knew that it was because we were on edge. If being inside the camp was hazardous, and it is, being outside it is lethal to everyone’s health. We’d lost people on these supply runs before, good people.

I could see it in the way Fallon walked, while her movements were fluid, her body was tense. Her jaw was set; hands clenched tight, one on the duffle strap, the other thumb hooked in the belt loop. The others were more lax, still alert, but their posture was more relaxed. Granted, they didn’t feel the responsibility of five other people weighing down their shoulders. The only other people who had any kind of serious stance were me and Agnes, who was trying for the strict demeanor Fallon projected.

 

It took about an hour and a half to return to base, the cement walls contrasting the rich greenery of the forest just outside of it. We trudged through the floor of pine needles and fallen leaves. I spared a concerned glance at Amaya, the small girl toughing it out as she heavily supported her injured ankle. She wouldn’t be able to go much further, there were blossoms of red on her cheeks and she puffed out a ragged breath.

 

It didn’t take long for the massive doors to groan open, slight metallic screech of the gears.  They opened partially and we shuffled inside. Our demeanors relaxed, shoulders slumping and muscles uncoiling. Bianca and one of her nurses ran over to help Amaya to the Medic Tent. Dominika wordlessly left to unload her bag. Agnes dropped her to the ground and walked away with an attitude, which Lok shrugged and picked up for her, moving to unload all 3 of the bags now had. Fallon treaded to unload as well; now that she was in a safe place she had dropped the act and looked absolutely drained. Being constantly alert and looking for threats was exhausting.

 

I looked around camp, not that it was really a camp. It was closer to a town, fully developed structures and apartment buildings that were built Pre-World Devastating War. Kids were running all over the place, playing games. The older ones were doing their jobs, whatever field they were in, supporting the Company. Things are good; things are really good, for now.