Cubicle

Witness

Olivia reacted to the sounds immediately. Not because they surprised her, but because, in here, it was impossible for her to truly fall asleep. It was too dangerous to let herself relax or be unaware of her surroundings. Makeshift shelters like this were overcrowded and unregulated, but it was brutal outside at this time of year, and protection from the sub-zero temperatures beat out all of the other risks combined…. every time.

The noise coming from the other side of the flimsy, paper thin wall to her left would have been enough, but the shaking and rattling suggested it was more than a typical dispute over “territory.” She turned onto her side, slid her back up against the wall behind her, and pressed her hands into the plastic of the wall she was now facing, hoping that somehow the little bit of extra support would keep it upright until the fight ended. The wall continued to shake, slightly for a few seconds, and then violently, as though someone had been thrown against it. She could hear groaning and choking sounds coming from the other side of the barrier, but she stayed perfectly still with her hands outstretched in front of her.

“GAAAAaaaahHHHHhhhhhhhh” someone cried from behind the wall.

*THUD*

Olivia waited. She could make out heavy breathing, almost like an asthmatic person was gasping for air. Heavy, laboured breaths, slowing, and steadily becoming calmer. Despite the issue seeming settled, she didn’t dare glance around the end of the plastic barrier to peek into the next 3-by-10 foot cubicle.

*THUD*…………… *THUD*

Two low, thick, disgusting sounds, almost like someone was slamming a bag of rotten fruit onto the ground. And then…… Silence.

Shaking, Olivia slowly released her hands from the wall in front of her and, still pressed up against the wall behind her, began to slide gently towards the end of her cubicle. As she peered into the darkness of the aisle of open-ended stalls, she could see a worn pair of boots sticking out from the one next to her, and another face, one of an older man, just beyond them, a space or two away, peering back at her. She held her hands to her mouth, trying to hide her shock and fear, and sat staring at the boots, until a silent, slight motion caught her eyes. The older man was waving her back into her cubicle, shaking his head, and holding one finger up to cover his mouth.

Quietly, Olivia carefully slid herself back into her cubicle, laid her head on her pack, and gently started to unbuckle the outer-most pouch on her bag. Every single clink the buckles made as she undid the pouch in the dark sounded, to her, like a plate smashing onto the floor.

She heard coughing from the cubicle next to her and froze. One of her hands was in the outer pouch of her pack, the other hung in mid-air above it. She stared, unblinking, at the wall. After a few moments she heard the sound of water whirling around in a jug, and the distinct sound of someone swallowing, or rather gulping back a good amount of it. She slowly tugged on the hilt of the 8-inch blade she had managed to find in an abandoned hunting supply store just days after “the collapse,” and pulled it from her bag. She clutched the hilt with both hands, rubbing the smooth, worn down layer of tape she had wrapped it with to give it some extra grip.

It’s time to re-tape the hilt again…. Will this be the third, or fourth time?

She couldn’t remember. She just tightened her grip on the handle and hugged the blade to her chest. It was the only thing that stood between her, and whatever might come next.

Olivia laid there for what felt like forever, clinging to her knife in the same way a child would hold a stuffed animal and staring at the plastic wall. Suddenly, something big knocked against the wall and shook it from it’s stillness. Olivia slammed her eyes closed, readying her blade and whispering to herself, “Wait until they’re right next to you. Wait… Wait… Wait…… It’s your only hope.”

Next, buckles and zippers started rattling, and then…. a scraping sound. No, not scraping, more of a…… dragging. The first few instances of it were extremely forceful, so much so that it felt as though they were happening inside of her cubicle. The next few were slightly fainter. Then a few more, even fainter than the last. Olivia let her eyes creep open, but didn’t move a single muscle. The sounds had stopped.

- BANG! - Olivia flinched in her cubicle. “My god, was that a gunshot?” She thought to herself. Immediately after, footsteps started to make their way back in Olivia’s direction. She slammed her eyes closed again and laid there clutching the knife. “Wait…. or you have no chance. Wait. Wait.”

The footsteps stopped short of Olivia, and a loud *Thump* came from the cubicle next to her. She laid on her side, staring at the wall, knife at the ready, until the sun came up. As it shone through the dusty, ice covered windows of the building, she silently packed her bag, tightened her boots, stood up, and walked out of the shelter…. It was as if she’d never been there at all.

Cubicle

He felt a slight *tug* on his pants.

Then another.

And another.

Excusing it for a part of his dream, he groggily shifted his body, rolling over onto his left side, and ignoring the sensation altogether.

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Reynold was a big guy, far bigger than most, so he hardly had to care where he slept at night, or who he stumbled upon during the day. Regardless of how treacherous this “new world” could be at times, he had quickly learned that there were only two reactions others had when they encountered him. On one hand, many of those he judged to be weak, or relatively defenseless, would offer to follow and “team up” with him. They usually attempted to prove that they were valuable partners in some way, but he assumed that this was really just a desperate move based on self-preservation, rather than a genuine attempt to help another person.

They really just want my protection. He would tell himself. They must see that they can’t provide me with anything I can’t already do for myself.

On the other hand, the more solitary, and occasionally aggressive people he encountered tended to think twice before challenging him in any way. Most opted instead to avoid him altogether, or go after weaker targets who might have been nearby, and in some cases, following Reynold around at a distance.

Of course, he didn’t feel obligated to protect anyone, but occasionally, during small bouts of what he might have at one time called compassion, he made an effort to assist others in need. As long as the risk to himself was minimal, he was willing to lend a hand here or there. The important thing was that Reynold could get by on his own. He didn’t need to rely on anyone.

Relying on others? Trusting others? That can put you in danger. — At least that’s what he told himself each time he left another behind, or turned a potential partner away. That was simply the way of things now.

There’s no room for weakness. No one gets to be who they were before.

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Reynold heard rustling next to him, right where his boots, overcoat, and bags would have been resting. It was the rustling that made him finally realize the tugging on his pants hadn’t been a dream. Someone was there, beside him, right now.

The thought hit him at light speed, “They’re taking my shit!” Reynold’s eyes shot open, and he whirled his body around with all his might, launching his right elbow backwards.

*CRACK* “Uuhhhmmmnnnmmnn” he heard the thief moan in agony. The moan sounded slightly unusual, almost as if the thief had some kind of ball or gag jammed in his mouth, but Reynold couldn’t be concerned with that right now. His only option was to fight until he scared them off, or until he killed them.

Continuing to roll, Reynold thrusted his massive frame up and overtop of the thief’s body with a little too much force, which caused him to tumble slightly into the plastic wall on the other side of his ‘cube.’ As he leaned against it, the thief began pushing at Reynold’s chest, trying to throw him off, but the wall supported Reynold as he rocked back into it.

The shoves almost felt too light to be intentionally violent or harmful, but Reynold couldn’t see the thief’s face in the dark. He couldn’t tell if they had a weapon, or even make out whether it was a man or woman.

“This fight is THEIR fault” he thought, as he pushed off the wall and used his massive weight to pin the thief down. The thief’s hands were still outstretched as Reynold came back down at them, but one massive swipe of his right arm knocked them away, and he landed with his left forearm pinned into the thief’s throat. As he did, he felt the familiar scratch of facial hair on his arm.

“A beard! So it is a man!” he realized. That gave him the reassurance he needed, and he tightened his pinch on the man’s neck, pressuring his esophagus with the entire weight of his upper body. The thief struggled underneath him, clearly incapable of moving him, but desperate to get out from under him. All of a sudden, as though fire had shot down his leg, Reynold felt a stab of pain coming from his thigh.

“GAAAAaaaahHHHHhhhhhhhh”

He cried out at the sensation of pain running down his leg, and though he knew it was never a great idea to make noise in places like these, he couldn’t hold it in.

He’s got a knife! That’s it. I’m finishing this RIGHT now.

Reynold reared back, and as he did the thief gasped for breath and began waving frantically in front of his own face. It was too late to ask for mercy though, and Reynold came down with a vicious, two-handed blow to the man’s head.

*THUD*

Reynold knelt there over top of the man, catching his breath, when he heard a few rough gasps come from the thief. He was sucking in, and releasing breaths like an “O2F-hose” with a kink in it. Reynold figured he must have caused some kind of severe head trauma with the blow, and that his strike combined with the near-suffocation just before it would have done some serious damage to the man. There was no such thing as emergency services or life-saving medical treatment anymore for people in their situation…. The man was already as good as dead.

It’s his own fault. He should have known better. Reynold thought. The best I can do is end it…

He leaned down and grabbed the man’s head with both hands, slightly raising it off the ground, and slamming it back down into the floor.

*THUD*…………… *THUD*

Reynold rolled off of the thief and slid back against the wall on the other side of his cube. He coughed as he caught his breath, picking up the jug of water he’d sat beside his makeshift sweater-pillow and taking a few giant gulps. Then, Reynold just sat there, in the dark, questioning how this person would have come to determine he was the one to steal from.

Why should I feel responsible for the death of someone who had freely chosen to not only take from someone else, but chose the exact wrong person to take from?

“It’s just so…. backwards” he mumbled out loud to himself. “He came here to take from me, and now I’ve taken everything from him.”

While thinking to himself in the dark, Reynold had begun, without even noticing, to unbuckle the man’s bags and push them to the back of his cube. It was almost an automatic habit for people at this point. When someone died, you collected their things, and moved on.

Use what you find.

Use everything to the fullest extent.

Nothing goes to waste. You can’t afford for anything to go to waste.

That was his advice to others…. That is what he often had to tell himself.

In the dark it was almost impossible to tell what was what, but when Reynold had set everything he assumed would hold some value aside, he stood up, grabbed the thief’s feet, and began dragging him, as softly as he could, towards the doors of the long-abandoned elevator. Some bleak light shone through the dusty, ice-covered windows of the building he was in, just enough to make out shadows along the aisle of cubicles. He could see a few shifting in their cubes, but no one was looking out. Anyone who heard the scuffle wouldn't dare risk it. If they weren’t asleep, they were pretending to be. Fear treated everyone the same in places like these. If it were Reynold, he wouldn’t bother peeking out either.

He dragged the thief down the aisle of cubes to the edge of the elevator doors. When and why they had been pried open, or left that way, was impossible to know. It wasn’t as though there was an elevator car that been left inactive on the floor after the grid failure either, there was just an empty shaft leading to a black pit. The faint streaks of light from the moon that managed to break their way through the dust, dirt, and ice covering the old windows were able to illuminate the area in grey at this end of the aisle, and Reynold got his first real glimpse of the thief’s features. What he saw, left him stunned.

It can’t be.

Reynold was appalled by the person he was staring at. He knew who this was.

Why would he……

Reynold stood, for what felt like an eternity, contemplating what he had done, and what this man was really doing in his cube.

This is life now. He told himself.

He sighed.

“It’s HIS fault. Not mine.” He whispered in a bitter, broken tone.

And then Reynold pushed the man’s body into the shaft, and counted back from five in his head for no good reason.

Five. Four. Three. Two. O…… *BANG*

Reynold stared down the shaft for another minute or two.

In anger… In frustration…… In grief……… Possibly in disbelief?

Who knows what I should feel anymore?

Then, he turned and calmly walked back to his cube. Reynold slumped down onto his sleeping pad, laid his head on his sweater-pillow, and made his peace with what had happened. He closed his eyes, and told himself….

“You do what you have to, to survive. That is all that matters.”

Intruder

The day had started like any other during the current freeze cycle…. Aeros woke up shivering in his ‘box,’ or at least, that’s what he referenced it as when he would explain it to others. Box was just an easier concept for him to communicate than something like ‘cubicle’ or ‘shelter.’ He sat up and reached for the water bottle he had sitting beside his pack, but found himself frustrated once again as 90% of the water he had saved from his ration had frozen into ice overnight. Without an insulated jug or flask of some kind, that tended to happen during the freeze cycle. He sipped on what little water had survived the night, put on his overcoat, and tucked the bottle into the sagging inner pocket he’d sewn into it. His coat was one of the few items he was happy he had managed to snag and actually keep hold of. It was an arctic-grade parka he had been given at the ‘Pre-freeze Surplus’ hand out a few freeze cycles ago, and for all of the times he found himself having to ‘give up to survive,’ no one had ever taken his overcoat. Maybe that was the small measure of kindness left in people nowadays…. They would take most of what you had, but wouldn’t leave you so vulnerable you were sure to die.

Aeros was glad to have woken early today. Despite having to rise and make his exit from that evening’s shelter in the faint, greyish, pre-dawn light and the bitterly cold air, which he knew wouldn’t be any warmer until hours from then when the sun finally rose, he was grateful to have an early start. He could hear a few others stirring as well, but he knew that he would be well ahead of the crowds today, which was exactly what he’d hoped for. If he could get out of the building and down the block to the ration station before most of the others in this zone, he’d be able to get his sustenance pack for the week and move on before any of ‘the hounds’ showed up. Aeros called them that because again, it was a simple, straight-forward message to convey to others. Pointy ears, scary eyes, and viciousness represented by fangs, strangling motions, or swinging fists…. People got the picture. They understood what he meant. Most had seen ‘the hounds’ in action at one point or another anyways, so it didn’t take long for those who weren’t like them to recognize what he was referencing.

Aeros followed his morning routine, which started with him folding up the small blankets he had collected, and any pieces of clothing he had taken out of his pack the night before. He felt lucky, as the extra sets of clothes he carried could be used as a headrest when he slept. More than that though, it also meant that once or twice a week, he could actually change out of what he’d been wearing. There was no doubt in his mind this was helping to keep him somewhat cleaner and healthier than the average traveler.

Next, he would carefully pick up items he knew had the potential to make noise, and wrap them, one-by-one, inside of the articles of clothing or blankets he had folded. After they were all wrapped and laid out around his pack, he would place them inside of it, in the order he thought he may need them. Things like the small ‘1-cup pot’ he had salvaged with the intention of boiling some water whenever he could, could go on the bottom, as it wouldn’t be something he would need regularly, or immediately. Other items, like his small, metallic needle and thread box, would rest at the very top of his pack. It had proven to be very useful in a variety of circumstances, as had his seemingly random talent for sewing, which he had developed with his aunt long before “the collapse.” In one instance a few months earlier, Aeros had even sewn up a large gash on a child’s leg after they had been thrown down the stairs of a ration station.

Monsters. Aeros thought, narrowing his eyes and remembering that hound’s actions. Vicious, pathetic monsters.

After carefully packing his bag, Aeros would zip both the inner, and outer layers of his pack in slow motion. He would lean in and watch each click of the zipper, not because of habit or any kind of compulsion, but because there was no way for him to tell how much noise it was making. He would slowly feel each click of the zipper, knowing that the one-click-at-a-time pace meant there wouldn’t be any “zzzzzzt” noise, which someone nearby could hear. He did this until he had gone around the full half-moon zip for each of the two layers of his pack. Then Aeros would stand, pull his boots out from the corner of his ‘box,’ slip his feet carefully into both, and bend over to tie them up, starting with the left one. He would rise to fully standing again, and double-check the special, interior pocket he had sewn into the right thigh of his pants (he had done this to each set of pants he carried), just to be certain his Ration I.D. and his compass were still there.

He pulled out his Ration I.D., just like he did every morning, read his number in his head, and repeated it to himself using a pattern of finger gestures.

A.E. 8-8-1-9-3-3-1-0.

Then he slid it back into his pocket and pulled out his compass. He always opened the face of it to check that it was still functioning by turning it slightly and watching the arrow shift. Aeros didn’t know whether or not the compass was truly that useful to him, or to others. He didn’t even know what direction to go really, no one did. Was there really anywhere to go that was better than any other place now? Some travelers who had made long journeys from both directions, north and south, to his current zone, hadn’t given him much hope.

Those in The North struggled due to, well, the nothingness. The constant chill, even outside of the freeze cycle, combined with the lack of regular ration stations and dwindling supplies made it sound like very few would be able to survive in The North for much longer. Those in The South described intense, unbearable heat for most of the year, and a much more violent experience than the one Aeros knew here. He had encountered his share of hounds up here, but from the way it sounded, everyone in the south was either a hound, or dead.

However, the compass was more to Aeros than just a directional guide. He figured, one day, if he discovered a potential ‘safe harbour,’ or truly needed to get himself somewhere else, the navigational tool would be the most useful thing he could have kept, as well as a welcome surprise to anyone he might possibly end up traveling with. For now, it was a daily reminder of who he was, who he wanted to remain, and the Good he believed in. He shifted the compass slightly so that it caught some of the grey light in the building, and read the inscription, just like he did every morning….

A Wolf, or the Pack….

Directions like any other.

Fangs or Friends….

There is always a Choice.

He smiled as he closed the compass and slid it back into his pocket. Then he lifted his pack up off the ground carefully using both hands, and carried it directly in front of his body as he slowly made his way towards the exit of the shelter. As he reached the doors, they slid open for him, and he wondered whether or not they would have made enough noise to wake others. He noticed how beat up the doors actually looked while they were sliding open. They were huge, thick pieces of steel, but they were covered in dents and blotches of rust. Also, despite opening themselves, they didn’t appear to move quite as fluidly as he imagined they must have when they were first installed. The doors actually jumped and sputtered a little as they inched their way open for him. He turned his head to glance back at some of the nearest ‘boxes,’ just to see if anyone might have noticed whatever sounds he was sure these doors were making, but they either didn’t notice, or didn’t care.

Aeros stepped out into the morning and immediately watched all of the heat that remained in his body exit his mouth on his very first exhale. He pulled a faded green toque, which still had a few tattered threads dangling from the spot where a yellow and white pom-pom had been attached at one time, out of his overcoat, and slid it down overtop of his head as he marched towards the street.

Aeros was happy to be closer to the ration station for this zone than most people who would be making the trip that morning. The shelter he’d stayed in was actually only a few squares away. For the safety of the ration staff, the delivery crews, and the population, ration stations were placed in their own squares. These were surrounded by at least one empty, or ‘transitional square' on every side, and patrolled by surveillance drones, with a security team that would respond to ‘drone calls.’ Aeros wasn’t comfortable with the drones being around because they seemed to pop out of nowhere to him. Others were able to sense, or possibly hear them coming, so they could prepare themselves mentally for a scan, or an interrogation, or at the very least, they would know that they were being monitored. Aeros could never do that. He figured there were probably times a drone had followed him for hours without him knowing. He always felt their presence, but rarely saw them, and he wondered if he was just ‘making it up’ in his own head. Unless they were actively scanning him, or warning him away from an area that was currently ‘off limits,’ he never really knew if they were there.

The most frustrating part to Aeros was that the drones never seemed to be around to do what everyone had been told they were built for…. To ensure safety, security, and equal distribution. Aeros had seen far too many people become victims of the hounds in different zones, without any intervention from the security force, or acknowledgment from drones patrolling the area. Even if the priority during ‘ration hours’ was the safety of the station and it’s crew, he had seen people openly attacked minutes after receiving their rations, within sight of drones, and sometimes even the very station they received their rations from. Yet there was still no response.

It was both frustrating, and terrifying, especially for someone like Aeros. Blindsiding him would be easy. This was one of the main reasons he attempted to stay as close to a station as possible before his ration day, and to get there as early as possible in the morning. If he could get his supplies and move on to a new square before the most heavily-trafficked hours of the day, it was much less likely someone looking to boost their own supplies would be able to take him by surprise.

Less bodies, less movement, less hounds around in general.

The strategy had served him well for the most part. The last time he had to fend anyone off was months ago. He revisited the encounter in his head that morning as he walked at a quick pace towards the square that held the closest ration station. He remembered how helpless he had been when the blow had struck him in the back of the head. He’d stumbled into a building with his left shoulder as he lurched forward. Semi-conscious and completely without any sense of balance, he’d raked himself down the wall as he continued to fall towards the ground. After he hit the ground and realized what was happening, all Aeros could do was curl up and cover his head. There was no way for him to know whether the attacker intended on doing serious damage to him, or, even worse, if there was more than one attacker. Luckily, all they must have cared about were his rations. Aeros wasn’t dealt another blow. He wasn’t kicked, or turned over and threatened. He hadn’t even felt anyone rustle his pack as he laid curled up against the wall. The ration package he’d been rooting through as he walked, which had been launched forward when he fell, was gone, as was his attacker. So, feeling almost grateful for the minimal loss, Aeros had made due with the items he’d kept in reserve, tucked down at the bottom of his pack. That, along with the kindness of a few acquaintances he’d met up with at other shelters throughout the week, helped him get through that ration period. He reminded himself that things could have been so much worse, but also, that he needed to be more aware than the average person. It was why his head was swivelling like an owl’s today. He knew he’d be a target until he got himself and his ration package away from the station, and the squares closest to it.

It was a fairly uneventful morning though. He patiently waited in line for around an hour to get into the station. He knew that by mid-day the wait would be so long that those left in line wouldn’t be receiving their rations until the evening, which also doubled the risk that one would encounter some of the hounds that prowled the surrounding squares. They were willing to do whatever they had to in broad daylight, but their jobs became that much easier once the light began to disappear. As Aeros stepped lightly into the station, he removed his pack and started to unzip the outer layer. Then, he noticed a hand waving rudely towards his face, trying to get his attention.

“HEY!” The ration crew member’s lips seemed to be yelling. “Can’t you hear?” The crew member mouthed pointing to their ears in an aggressive, almost frustrated manner.

Aeros shook his head at the person. They stood staring blankly at him.

He shook his head again, and pointed towards his own ears, then made an ‘X’ with his fingers. He figured that ought to be enough of a kindergarten-level message for this obnoxious person to understand, smirking as he lowered his head to unzip the rest of his pack.

When he looked back up, the crew member seemed a little more patient and understanding, pointing to their own I.D. and mouthing, or possibly speaking the word “Card.” Aeros held his I.D. out, allowed it to be scanned, and was subsequently sent down the line to pick up his sustenance packs, medi-kit, and a new water filtration seal for his jug. He hadn’t realized that it had already been 6 months since he received one, and it almost felt like opening a birthday present when he got to unwrap and replace his old one with the new seal. The old one was blackened, and even looked torn in spots, as most did by the time you had hit your 6-month renewal.

It was understood that by around the 3-month mark the filtration seals were worn out, and that after around 4 months, depending on how much you drank each day, the water you were consuming was entirely unsafe to drink. Most worked hard to avoid refilling their jugs more than once a day for the first few months, hoping to make their seals last that much longer, but this was nearly impossible in Southern regions, or during the heat cycle. Twice a day was really the minimum, and you’d still feel dehydrated at that.

Aeros wandered out into the sunlight, which had started to heat the world just enough that he no longer needed to zip up his overcoat. There was still a slight cloud of vapour visible with each exhale he released, but he could tell is was going to be a relatively balmy day compared to most during a freeze cycle. He planned on heading straight away from the exit on the widest main road, until he got at least few squares over. There, he would stop and consume his first meal of the day, some of the older rations from his bag. He was already looking forward to the following morning when he’d start opening the newest sustenance packs he’d received, the ones with those precious few, fresh, perishable items that he cherished so much.

Should be a good breakfast tomorrow, he thought to himself. Feels like some kind of egg, or more likely a lab-created substitute, and a bunch of root vegetables. He enjoyed guessing at food items in head head as he lightly squeezed the outside of the packs. The imagination required, and the anticipation of opening them, had almost become a little game to him.

Although he was envisioning what waited for him inside of the pack he held, he was also continuously looking around. He shifted from walking forward to backwards every so often as well, in order to maintain the greatest awareness of his surroundings that he could.

Alley to the right. Four travellers passing on the left. Too far apart to be together…. Or maybe they want it to look that way.

More light on the left side of the street than the right. Drones lingering towards the last buildings in this square.

He whirred around again, walking backwards.

Four travellers definitely weren’t together. All four continued on. No wait. Only three….

Aeros backed into something and quickly spun around holding his hands up in front of his face to block any blow potentially coming at him. No punches. No shoving. Just a really large man who also appeared to be shocked that he’d run into something.

“I’m sorry…. You…. watch….. going……… be anyone……… dangerous…….”

Aeros quickly waved for the man to stop. He was a bit of a ‘closed-mouth-talker,’ so Aeros was only catching every third word or so. He motioned to his own ears and made the ‘X’ symbol again, just a lot less sarcastically than he had when dealing with the crew member at the station.

The big man nodded and tried using some gestures to help explain himself.

“I. Walking too fast. You. Walking backwards. Crash!”

Yeah, I’m deaf. Not stupid. Aeros thought.

However, he did appreciate that the man was trying his best and taking his time to communicate the message clearly.

“Watch closely,” the man went on. “Many dangerous people. Waiting for time to attack. I see three…. four on limits of square.”

Aeros smiled, and gave the man a thumbs up.

“The station is….?” The man mouthed, shrugging as if to suggest a question.

Aeros turned and pointed straight down the road. He hadn’t realized how far he’d come already. He motioned straight down the road, showed the man 18 by flashing his fingers and then motioned to the left side of the street.

The big man nodded and mouthed “Thank you,” before turning to go.

Just then, as if on cue, the two were encircled by four others, and from what Aeros could tell, the four were shouting at them. He quickly looked to the big man, who didn’t acknowledge him, but began shouting back and pointing towards Aeros.

Oh no…. Is he WITH them!?

Aeros couldn’t believe it. There was no way he’d get out of this with any of his things, let alone survive the encounter if they were intent on hurting him. However, as the two closest to Aeros moved in, the other two seemed hesitant and kept their distance from the big man. Aeros took a step or two back, to get himself into the big man’s peripherals. As he glanced sideways, Aeros looked to him, asking a question with his eyes that he could only hope the man understood — “Are we done for?”

The man slid his bag off his back to the ground and nudged Aeros, obviously urging him to do the same. As Aeros started to slide his own off, the big man charged towards the two assailants that had been nearer to him, leaving Aeros staring at the other two men coming his way. Rather than dropping his pack onto the ground, Aeros swung it round and launched it at one of his two attackers, racing towards the other and swinging underneath the man’s first punch. Although he wasn’t big, Aeros was strong enough to make his agility count for something, as long as he could fight you up close without getting grabbed. As he ducked underneath the strike, he delivered two fierce shots to the attacker’s midsection, which stunned him, causing him to take a few steps back to try and catch his breath. Aeros didn’t let up though, stepping forward and giving him a shot across the face that sent him spinning toward the ground.

*The other attacker!!!*

Aeros was seeing the warning flash inside of his own head. He had no real sense of what the bag throw had done, and no sense of how long his initial attack had taken, but he realized this too late. Someone already had their arms wrapped around his head, dragging him to the ground and tightening their grip every second. He was completely defenseless, and the other attacker was rising to deliver some vengeance for Aeros’ earlier strikes. As he struggled to breath under the weight of the headlock, the first attacker arrived and booted Aeros directly in the rib cage, sending a shockwave of pain though his entire body, and making any attempt to breathe that much more unsuccessful.

This is it.…

At least I distracted them so the big man had a chance….

*BOOM* — Another kick was delivered to his midsection, and Aeros blacked out.

………………………

AN INJECTION OF AIR shot into Aeros’ lungs as his eyes screamed open, and he began to cough violently as he rolled around on the ground. That is, until he rolled into a body.

Once his eyes started to refocus, Aeros noticed that the body he’d rolled into was the man he’d thrown his bag at when all of this started. He was face down, and wasn’t moving. His chest wasn’t moving. No rising and falling motion, like a person’s would if they were unconscious and breathing.

Dead? Aeros questioned to himself as he laid there staring at the body.

But…. how?

As he sat up, he saw the big man sitting on top of his bag, with Aeros’ bag resting beside him.

Aeros pointed at him as if to ask, “Did you do this?”

The big man nodded. “Thank you….” He mouthed again. Then he made a bunch of hand gestures indicating he appreciated Aeros’ willingness to fight, despite being so small…. and clearly ‘incapable of having any impact.’ After this gestured joke from the big man they both laughed a little, and Aeros waved his hands with a flourish from his position on the ground, as though he were a famous hero of some kind.

Then, Aeros made a fist-slamming motion into his palm and held up a finger, as if to indicate that he’d at least managed to take one out. He didn’t want a first strike that he was actually very proud of go unnoticed or forgotten.

The big man nodded again in approval, helped Aeros to his feet, and handed him back his pack. He patted Aeros on the shoulder and waved him on the other direction. Before he could head towards the ration station, Aeros stopped him and made a motion of unification. He waved his hands between the two of them, trying to convey the suggestion that they stick together for a while. The big man shook his head though, making an ‘X’ with his massive arms, and trying to convey the message that he felt better travelling alone.

Aeros understood and nodded, but figured he might still get some information about shelters, or safer squares that he could check out in the direction the big man had originally come from. He started by making a few simple gestures that indicated ‘sleep’ and ‘safety.’ The big man seemed to understand, and pointed to a few nearby buildings, but shook his head, making the ‘X’ again, and mouthing the word “Danger” a bunch of times.

After nodding in acknowledgement, Aeros pointed to the big man, making ‘sleep’ and ‘safety’ gestures again, essentially asking where he had stayed. The man motioned down the road and held up five fingers, followed by an elongated gesture. Aeros took this to mean that he had stayed 5 square markers away, but the big man offered no further details. Aeros nodded his understanding, gave the man another thumbs up, and offered a handshake in thanks. Then the two went their separate ways. The big man wandered off towards the ration station, and Aeros headed down the street towards what he hoped would be a peaceful spot to spend the night…. and some small sense of security after what had just happened.

After making his way past the fourth marker he had come across, Aeros began looking at the buildings a little more deliberately. He was really trying to spot other travellers who may have been coming out of alleyways, which usually indicated an entrance to a hidden shelter. However, if he couldn’t spy any of these, he wouldn’t shy away from wandering into one of the few, fully-functional ‘front doors’ which indicated an active ‘public shelter’ site.

The first building with a door that opened directly onto ground level was far too crowded for Aeros to feel comfortable. After swiping his card and wandering in, he found a completely packed first and second floor, with some actually opting to share their spaces rather than stay any higher up in the building. Even if it weren’t so crowded, Aeros had decided that this shelter wasn’t a place he would have felt comfortable staying. The ‘personal spaces’ had been designated haphazardly, with nothing more than plastic sheets and tarps hanging from the ceiling, giving the people on either side of them the smallest measure of privacy one could possibly ask for.

They couldn’t even be bothered to construct boxes in here.

There is zero security. All someone would have to do is slap the tarp out of their way to grab your things and run…. Or worse.

Aeros left the building disappointed, and a little worried that having at least some measure of security wasn’t something the big man was very concerned with.

After entering and quickly exiting a few more of the easily accessible, but ultimately unacceptable shelter sites, Aeros noticed a younger woman who was sitting and eating some rations, propped up against what appeared to be a defunct 10-story office building. He decided to eat himself, as seeing her enjoying a paste packet, as much as she possibly could, gave him a craving for something as well. He sat down against the building he was standing beside on the opposite side of the road, and ate, watching her casually out of the corner of his eye.

She must have a safer spot than the ones I’ve found nearby. She has to know she’ll have a difficult time making it anywhere else before dark. The sun is starting to go down already. Worst case scenario, maybe I can convince her to take shifts with me in one of those terrible tarp shelters.

As the young woman finished with her packet, she unbuckled a pouch on her bag, tucked the packet away into the pouch, and slid quickly into the alley just to the right of the building she’d been sitting against.

Aeros noticed her movement and quickly scrambled to his feet, finishing his energy square as he crossed the street and peeking around the corner of the building. The alley was fairly dark, continuing all the way across to the next street over, and had no indication of any kind that there was a side entrance to either of the buildings. Aeros wandered down the alley, and stopped halfway through it, still not seeing any kind of light, or break in the walls anywhere.

Where would the entrance be? She couldn’t have ran all the way down the alley and out the other side without me seeing her….

Then, as Aeros stood there, slightly confused by his surroundings and the woman’s apparent disappearance, he noticed the ground changed about twenty feet away from him. Rather than it all being pavement, there was a giant metal slate about three quarters of the way down the alley. Aeros slowly walked over to investigate the slate, and noticed a little notch on one side of it. When he pulled on it, the slate rose up towards him, much easier than he had anticipated it would in fact. Once he had fully opened it, he noticed why. A hydraulic arm was assisting the door.

This has to be where she went! It was clearly designed to be hidden, but not to keep people out. There’s no lock or security, and the slate nearly opens itself. Hopefully whoever is down here will be welcoming….

Aeros made his way down the ten rungs of a small ladder as the slate closed above his head. Feeling a wall directly on his left as he reached the bottom, he turned to the right to see a faint light at the end of the tunnel he was now standing in. After making his way to the other end, he found himself staring up an inoperative elevator shaft, with the basement doors open to his right. The basement level was pitch black, save for a small yellow-ish light shining above a dark red door that stood roughly one hundred feet, he guessed, across from him in the black space. He moved slowly through the darkness towards the door, which was really the only thing he could do. He didn’t know how far this space stretched in other directions, or if there was anyone else down there waiting in the dark, so he continued step by cautious step, across the blackness towards the tiny yellow light.

As Aeros neared the door he could see an old ‘stairs’ sign on it, and knew then that he must be underneath the building the woman had been eating outside of. This old office building was definitely a place he could stay, for the night at least, whether it was an active shelter or not. He doubted many others would have managed to discover the same entrance he had without being guided there…… or following someone like he had. And really, what were the chances of that?

He decided to climb the stairs to at least the 5th floor before starting to investigate whether or not there would be a space for him, or whether the floors were even designed to be shelter spaces at all. As he passed the first few floors and quickly glanced through the windows on the stairwell doors, he could see that the floors hadn’t been changed very much. Most still looked as though they were full of cubicles and some larger, private offices. Once he had hit the 4th floor, he noticed there were less bags, boots and movement than he’d seen on the previous floors. So, at the 6th floor, he decided to take his first walkthrough and see if he could find himself a space. When Aeros opened the door, the first thing he noticed was that the elevator doors at the far end of the room were ajar.

That must be how that light shone all the way down into the original tunnel…. It’s always open, he thought as he wandered down the stretch of cubicles in the center of the room.

As he passed the cubicles, roughly every second cubicle had someone in it, and he was receiving some puzzled looks from those who had made it their home for the night.

They’re staring…. Am I not supposed to be up here? I wonder if they know everyone who regularly stays here? Maybe this is a…. community of some kind?

Regardless of what they were thinking, Aeros thought it would be best if he continued climbing. He would attempt to find a less populated, possibly more welcoming floor to stay on. As he entered onto the 7th floor, he noticed the elevator doors were open on this floor as well, and then he spotted a small, bearded face poking out of a cubicle just past the halfway point of the center row. Aeros walked down towards the face, which didn’t shy away as he came nearer, but instead, began to smile a little and motioned towards the spot beside him. Aeros arrived at the cubicle, saw that it was empty, and smiled down at the older man.

“mores” the old man smiled, holding out his hand.

……… Aeros made a shrugging motion and a confused face to indicate he didn’t understand what exactly “mores” meant. He then pointed to his ears, performing the all too familiar gestures, which now felt automatic, in order to let the older man know he was deaf.

The old man pulled out a small pad of paper and a pen, and wrote “I’m Morris!” on the paper, handing it to Aeros.

A massive smile shot across Aeros’ face. “I’m Aeros!” he wrote back, grabbing the old man’s hand as he returned the pad and shaking it violently, almost jerking the man’s arm out of his socket due to the excitement. The two spent the remaining hours of light writing messages back and forth. It gave Aeros an overwhelming sense of euphoria to communicate with another human so clearly and efficiently again. It had been years since his last encounter with anyone who knew sign language, and although writing was much slower, it felt better than any other form of communication Aeros could imagine at this point. As it got dark, Aeros thought he would ask one final thing before getting some sleep,

“Bathroom?” He wrote.

“End of the row, turn left, far corner.” The old man wrote back.

Aeros smiled, nodded, and clasped both of the old man’s hands with his own to say thank you. He rose and turned to walk down the row, back towards the stairwell, and it struck him that there were definitely more people on that level now than when he had arrived.

It was no surprise he wouldn’t have noticed them arriving though. With his back facing the door, and him being so engaged in the writing conversation with Morris, there was no room for him to sense or spot anyone coming and going.

This place was comfortable though. He felt safe enough here.

He had walls. Plastic walls, but walls nonetheless.

And he had a kind, friendly neighbour. At least for the time being.

To his disbelief, as he made his way towards the bathroom, Aeros passed the big man from earlier that day. He was actually just a few cubicles away from Aeros! He was laying down on his back with a hat resting over his face, but Aeros was sure it was him. He was thrilled to see him again, because whether the man actually wanted a partner or not, Aeros knew that he was capable of surviving, and willing to help, which gave everyone around him a fighting chance as well.

He thought about it in the bathroom, and decided that he would just nudge the man to let him know he was also on the same floor, in the same shelter. Not to bother him, but just to say ‘hello.’

We were warriors together…. after all. Aeros smirked to himself at the thought of this.

Who knows, maybe he’ll find it just as incredible? Maybe he’ll even change his mind about a travel buddy!? I can dream can’t I? He seemed like a good-hearted person…. somewhat. Better than most I guess.

On his way back to his cubicle, Aeros slowed down as he approached the big man’s space, and bizarrely, spotted the woman from outside sleeping in the cubicle right beside him! The coincidences were almost too much for Aeros to even believe.

Alright, this has to be a sign that I’m where I should be. I HAVE to say hi to the big man now, he thought, urging himself on.

He stopped in front of the big man, still laying on the ground with his hat over his face, and tugged on his pants a little in the hopes that he’d be able to wake him without startling him too much. However, the big man didn’t even budge, it was like he was too huge to feel it. Aeros latched onto the bottom of his pants and tugged harder, multiple times, shaking the big man’s leg around. Still, no movement or sign of waking. Aeros finally wrapped his hand around the big man’s leg and physically shook it, but the big man simply twisted and turned and rolled onto his side, never acknowledging anything was even grabbing at him. Frustrated, and not wanting to cause a commotion, Aeros decided to wake up early and just wait for the big man, but as he got back to his own cubicle and nodded goodnight to Morris, a thought hit him.

I’ll write him a note! He’ll be blown away when he wakes up and finds it on his bag. “3 Spaces Down. Deaf guy from yesterday. Come say hi!”

Aeros thought that was good enough. If the man truly wanted nothing to do with him, he could ignore the invitation, but if the coincidence surprised him as much as it had Aeros, he’d probably walk over a few spaces in the morning to check in.

Aeros tucked the old man’s pen into his pocket and carried the note back over to the big man’s space. He crept in beside him, trying to find a spot on his bag that he could stick the note where it wouldn’t fall off or get lost. That way the big man would see it first thing in the morning. He checked a few of the pockets, unzipping them as quietly as he could, but most were jammed with items or food, and he wasn’t sure the big man would look into his pockets right away anyways. Then he decided he would just wrap the note around one of the straps on the bag. There would be no way to pick up the bag without seeing it then. As he shifted the large bag around in the cramped space, he could tell it was pushing up against the wall and the big man’s sleeping body as well, but Aeros figured that if his pulling and shaking hadn’t woken him up, this wouldn’t either.

But all of a sudden….

*WHAM*

Something struck Aeros across the head and sent him reeling into the plastic wall beside him. He could feel a rumble in his chest and throat, indicating that he must have involuntarily made some kind of noise after being hit. Then he was on his back, dazed, but conscious enough to attempt to push back against the weight that was pinning him to the ground. He pushed out with all his might, feeling the weight lean back and forth before returning again to pin him down.

It’s the big man! Aeros realized. He thinks I’m robbing him!!!! There’s no way I can fight him, I have to signal him somehow.

Aeros began to frantically wave his hands in between himself and the big man to attempt to get him to stop for a moment, to try to peer through the darkness and see his face. The big man clearly couldn’t tell it was Aeros, or just didn’t think about who he was fighting, because he swept Aeros hands out of the way and pinned him to the ground with his forearm.

Aeros was struggling to breathe now, just as he had earlier that day when the attacker had grabbed him from behind and strangled him on the ground. There was no hope of stopping the big man. Aeros was too small. He couldn’t shove him off, he couldn’t slide out from under him, and in a matter of seconds, he’d suffocate…… and there’s no telling if he would wake up.

The PEN! Aeros remembered that he had slid the pen he wrote the note with into his pocket. He struggled underneath the big man, wiggling around just enough to grab the pen from his pocket, and sucking the few, short breaths he could manage into his closing esophagus. He slid his arm out sideways, cocked the pen inwards, and slammed it as hard as he could into the big man’s leg.

Just like that, the pressure was released from Aeros’ neck. He gasped for breath, filling his lungs as much as possible, and reaching up towards the big man with his right hand in the hopes of signalling him somehow…. But the last thing he saw was a huge, black mass, coming back down towards him in the dark.