The sky was dark with snow, a frigid howl nipping at the exposed skin around my neck and face. My winter clothing seemed to do little to protect against the icy chill that seeped into skin and bone alike. The blizzard appeared to be growing more and more fearsome with each step, and I knew I would need to stop and find somewhere to get warm soon. Hazy glowing spots began to appear in the distance through the fog as I entered a town. I had no clue as to where I really was so I tried to find anything that would help.
As I walked down the snow-buried street covered in equally buried cars, I marveled at the various neon signs that still radiated brilliantly. Propaganda and company slogans littered the snow-covered walls and roofs of buildings, surviving without human interference thanks to the small solar panels on every one of them. One, in particular, was a bent street sign with the glowing 'route 67' shining brightly amidst the blizzard winds. I cursed, recognizing the route number and quickly pulled out my roadmap, pointing a gloved finger at route 67 and following it northwards on the paper as the wind whipped the edges wildly. "Fuck me, I still got twenty miles until I get to Pheonix," I growled, I slapped the map against my thighs and sighed into the snowy sky. Looking back at the map, I dusted off a few flakes of snow and rolled it up before stuffing it back into my backpack.
I pressed on, eventually passing by a storefront, the sign that buzzed above, catching my attention. "Mama KilaWats Bar And Grill" it ran underneath a glowing lightbulb adorned with a top hat. Looking at the building itself, it was apparent it was a dilapidated derelict of what it once was, with a thick layer of snow covering what I assumed was the main entrance. I glanced further down the street, then the way I had come. A long white tunnel, filled with the remains of humanity, void of all human life. For a time, I stood there, gazing at a random snow-covered vehicle that had long overturned and pondered if I'd ever see another human being ever again. And with each passing second, the chill seemed to seep deeper into my spine, spreading like wildfire.
I sighed a deep, forlorn sigh, visibly carried away by the biting atmosphere. Stuffing numbed hands into denim pockets, a blank stare aimed at the lightbulb's eerie smile. Hearing a hollow squeak in the background, I tilted my body to the right and peered down the snow-filled alleyway to the right of the building, regarding a wooden door, rocking in the blizzard's frozen arms. Deciding that a proper shelter would be the difference between life and a frozen death, I hurried towards the door. After all, It's not like I had something to look forward to down the road for quite some time. Just more snow.
Nearly tripping over the deep snow more than once, I reached the doorway. Clenching the outside edge of the door, silencing its rusted hinges and peering inside the doorway; it was too dark to see anything past a few feet in, and a pungent iron smell stung my nostrils. Pushing my bandana above my nose, I tried to block the smell. I pulled my flashlight out and flicked it on. The first thing the beam of light revealed was the corner of a desk to the left, a dried crimson stain dripped down the side of the wood. I directed my light upwards and froze when I found another person for the first time in months. There he sat, slumped, with his skull splattered across the wall and desk. A 20 gauge lay on top of the table and held under the grasp of his extended hand.
Something shined in the light on the table, and I took out my knife to push the bits of grey matter away from the object. It was a microchip, no bigger than my pinky nail. My nose scrunched in disgust and I swiftly brought the tip of my knife on the chip, shattering the small piece. It was despicable what the Administration had done to these people. It filled me with hatred, hatred towards the order, hatred towards the technology they dared to create.
As I stepped away, I accidentally kicked an opened can, causing a ruckus. I picked the old can up and inspected it. Semi-scratched out, a graphic of green beans was plastered to the front. I turned it upside down and noted the fresh liquid that poured out.
A floorboard creaked, and my spine straightened. I dropped the can with a loud clatter as it rolled across the swollen wooden floorboards. Turning towards the noise, I took an unconscious step back when I saw a masked woman standing before me. Her hand remained frozen on the knife in her belt loop while mine froze on the revolver in my holster. For a while we just watched each other, neither of us moving an inch and both sizing each other up. I didn't know what to expect of another person after so long. She was almost my height from what I could tell, and I wasn't going to kid myself in thinking she wasn't a threat. Then, seeing my grip tighten on my gun, she raised her hands just above her head, pulling the mask below her chin and letting it rest loosely around her neck.
"Hey, I don't want no trouble now." A feminine voice laced with a southern twang.
I squinted my eyes a bit, unsure as to whether I could trust this woman or not. I gave her a once over, starting at her snow-covered boots, to her worn and ripped clothing, and ending on her dark eyes, and even darker hair that sprouted from her beanie, falling around her split cheeks nicely. Her eyes were wide and hopeful while her hands shook slightly in the air. She seemed more scared then I was, so I relaxed my grip on my revolver, dropping my shoulders a bit before taking off my bandana and leaving it around my own neck. I put my hands up, palms out in front of me, to show my geniality. I watched as she too relaxed, a small smile forming on her lips.
"Phew, ya know, for a second there, I damn well thought you were gonna shoot me." She gave a light laugh of relief.
I combed the snow from my short beard absentmindedly while I spoke, "Yeah, sorry about that, wasn't expecting to see anyone for quite some time, especially not here."
"Yeah, that blizzard is one hell of a thing, ain't it?" She uttered quietly, her eyes wandering past my shoulder.
"I was hopin' to use this bar as shelter from the cold." She twiddled her thumbs in front of her stomach, looking down. "I already started a fire and was cooking some beans I found, would ya like some mister?" She brought her eyes to look at me, and they caught the light from the doorway to reveal dark green irises.
"That's awfully nice of you, miss, but why trust me?" I questioned.
She shrugged her shoulders and spoke with a light-hearted tone. "It has been far too long since I've seen someone else, and what are you worried about, mister? you're the one with a gun." A giggle escaped her lips, a cute noise that caused my heart to skip a beat momentarily. "Besides, the fact you even thought to ask that means there's a pretty good chance you aren't one of those creeps. Now shut the door and come on in." She chirped before turning on her heel and disappearing through the doorway she had come from.
I smiled, a new sense of hope entangling my heart. Gripping the door's frozen handle, I shut the door closed and followed her. The bar was dark, only just barely lit by the flickering orange light coming from inside a tall metal barrel. It was warm and smelled of smoke, The plume of smoke escaping through a decent-sized hole in the roof.
"What's up with the body?" I asked while following her, and she answered with a shrug of her shoulders.
"Dunno, he was there when I got here, and I didn't wanna touch him."
I couldn't help but pity the man and wonder what led him to such a tragic end.
"Soooo, what's ya name mister, if you don't mind my asking." Her voice cut off my thoughts, and I noted the way she carefully took the can of beans off the makeshift grill she had made on top of the barrel. She purposely blew on the top and glanced charmingly up at me.
"Dylan," I answered sparingly.
"Dylan?" She asked before taking a small scoop of beans with a plastic spoon and stuffing it in her mouth. "That's a cute name, I'm Jessica." She then handed me the can.
"Thank you, Jessica." I smiled, the tips of my fingers lightly grazing hers as I took the container.
"So, what brings you to this part of town?" Jessica asked, mouth full of beans. With anyone else, it would have been a rude gesture, but for her, it was cute.
I debated on telling the truth, still unsure if I could trust anyone, let alone her. However, I felt inclined to for some odd reason.
"I'm heading towards Pheonix, I think there may be other people there."
"Oh, really? How do you know?" She asked, placing the spoon inside of the can and cradling it in her hands.
"A radio broadcast showed up out of the blue about a month ago. One day the host said something about Phoenix being a safe haven, so I'm hoping it the truth." I looked down, rubbing my hands together. "It was the first time I felt any kind of hope in a long time, so I figured why not give it a try."
"Well, what if its a trap?" She inquired, and I looked up at her.
"I'm willing to take the risk if it means finding others alive and well." I then gestured towards her, "And the journey so far has led me to another person already, so I'd say it's been worth it so far."
"I guess so." She smiled.
"So, what about you?" I crossed my arms, one hand reaching up to stroke my whiskers, "What brings you out here?"
"Oh me? Well, there ain't much to say, I've just been wandering." She then put a finger to her chin, "I've been trying to find a good place to set up a sort of road-side rest stop for travelers." She paused, then shrugged her shoulders. "despite how far an' in-between they may be."
"That's a good idea, you seem to already have the hospitality down." I smirked, "Maybe we can find somewhere for you to set up shop on the way to Phoenix?"
She gave me a contemplative look before breathing, "Yeah, maybe."
A comfortable silence took over us as we shared our meager dinner. Which was, of course, gone too soon. Parched from the food, I pulled out my canteen and took a swig, feeling the bitter kick of whiskey burn my throat. I noted Jessica eyeing the container in my hands, so I quickly offered it to her.
"It's whiskey, would you like some?" I started, a small smirk hidden behind my blond whiskers.
She took the drink, eyeing it carefully before taking a swig of her own. She handed it back quickly, nose scrunched, and tongue stuck out as she made a disgusted sound. "That's some strong stuff."
"Yup, good ol' Jack will do that to ya." I laughed, and she followed suit.
Her laugh filled the old bar with a joyful atmosphere, filling me with a hopeful elation that I never knew I could ever feel again. When she stood up and moved to the other side of the bar, I couldn't help but notice the subtle sway of her hips as she walked. She brought two wooden chairs with her and placed them next to the barrel, facing each other.
She sat down, motioning for me to do the same. Upon taking a seat, the rachitic legs of the chair creaked under my weight. After placing my bag between my legs, I looked up to see that she had been staring at me. She continued to stare, and I grew uncomfortable beneath the gaze of her dark blue eyes. I cleared my throat, and, with a shake of her head, she looked anywhere that wasn't in my direction. She looked up at the ceiling, blowing raspberries and lightly tapping her thighs. Honestly, it threw me off just how child-like Jessica's personality was. In the world we lived in, I wondered how she managed to hang on to that youthful innocence.
"So..." Her voice brought me out of my thoughts, "What's up?"
Her words practically dripped with awkwardness, and I couldn't help but smile a little. Her face scrunched up as she cringed in embarrassment, and I chuckled.
"I'm alright, all things considered," I answered.
Silence overtook us, and I looked down at my feet. My eyes traced the lining of my backpack for a moment before I remembered what I had brought with me. "Oh yeah!"
I grunted before unzipping one of the many pockets and pulling out a medium-sized radio, a hand crank flat on the side. "this was a gift from my grandpa, said it would be useful if a blackout ever occurred." I idly commented while I worked to rapidly rotate the crank. The device whirled loudly in my hands as it slowly built up power and I looked up apologetically towards Jessica, who held a bewildered gaze. "It'll take a minute."
And for over a minute, I sat there, spinning the crank until my arm ached. I stopped then, turning the radio so the frequencies could be seen. I adjusted the knob on the device until I found the frequency I was looking for, the same one that was coming from Phoenix. The cheery tunes of Frank Sinatra began to play through the speakers, and, with a happy smile, I placed the radio just a little bit away on the damp wood floor. I took both of my gloves off, setting them next to the radio.
"Remember how I said there was a radio signal coming from Pheonix?" I asked, and Jessica nodded silently. "Well, this is it, and they play some classics."
I walked over to Jessica, extended my hand out, and she looked at me inquisitively. "Care to dance?" I asked with a smile.
She blinked, then giggled as she slid her own gloves off and placed her hand in mine. I entwined my fingers with hers, feeling the cold yet comforting touch of her skin pressed against my palm. She put her right hand on my shoulder, and mine slid to rest on her hip as we slowly began to move. It was slow and somewhat awkward and yet intimate all the same. This was the closest I had been to another person in months, maybe even for years. I suddenly realized just how long its been since I've held onto someone like this, and it felt nice.
"It's been quite some time since I've been able to do this, Dylan." She said, obviously thinking the same thing.
"Same here, honestly, I don't know what made me do this, but hey, I ain't complaining." I chuckled.
Her lips formed a small smile, and she rested her chin on the top of my shoulder as we danced slowly, whispering a quiet "Thank you."
I only held her closer to me. We performed two more slow rotations before I pulled away, reaching for my bag. "Where ya goin'?" Jessica asked, eyeing my movements.
"I'm kind of thirsty." I looked up and saw her eyes shimmer in the light of the fire. They were mesmerizing, stopping me in my tracks like a deer in the headlights. With the joyful jazz melodies still playing from the small radio, she looked at me with those glittering eyes, a sweet toothy smile directed towards me. She seemed so perfect compared to the tattered walls of the bar.
She barely registered the bullet that plunged into her skull, causing her to stumble backward into the chair she had been sitting in only moments before. A loud snap was heard as a chair leg snapped underneath the sudden weight. Both the chair and Jessica hit the floor with an audible thud.
The only noise that filled the bar after that was that of the slowly dying radio. The music echoed almost as loud as my boots as I walked over to Jessica. I pushed the broken chair out of the way with my foot and stared at the marred and crimson-stained features of her face. That damn toothy smile still partly grinning at me, blood pooling between her teeth and dripping into her mouth.
The radio ran out of charge and died, and the room was filled with silence.
I stooped over Jessica's corpse and slipped the knife from under her belt. I eyed it carefully and admired the craftsmanship of the blade. I slid it under my own belt. I stood up straight and took a deep breath, looking over at my small radio. It was a withdrawn business, cleaning and packing up all of my stuff. Jessica was never spared a second glance, not while I packed the radio and canteen back into my bag, not while I stuffed my hands back into my gloves, and not even as I walked over her corpse on my way out. No, it wasn't until the palm of my hand was wrapped around the knob of the back door that I looked back. Seeing her debilitated body sprawled on the floor, her head limply turned in my direction, those damned tech-filled eyes staring into mine.
I looked away, only uttered five words into the inert atmosphere before turning the knob and marching out into the frozen world once again with an equally frozen heart, the door crashing shut behind me.
"Maybe I'm better off alone."