Scorched

The dying rays of the evening sun cut across the dust-covered remnants of the apartment. Thin lines of hazy smoke wafting from the light-scorched floor, blackened from the eternal rotation of the sun. The light illuminating a metal locket, once a beautiful gold, long since faded. A crack, thin and winding, etched its way from the hinge, ending its jagged path near the center. Swiftly, a sunburnt hand reached from the shadows, pulling the locket into the darkness as the metal began to heat, the skin almost instantly starting to singe and burn.

Ivara gingerly pulled the heated metal into the shade, careful not to touch the now scalding portions left to the sun. Fanning stale air onto the locket, she yawned, dried sun-burnt skin cracking, causing her to wince out of reflex. She abandoned the fanning, reaching towards the worn, bulging rucksack, shuffling a few things aside before producing a small blue bottle, the label absent. Squeezing small gems of the cyan gel onto her fingertip, Ivara spread the substance across her face, careful to avoid her eyes. The gel spread across her burnt, cracking skin, soaking in as it cooled down rapidly. She struggled to eke out the last of the bottle’s contents before sealing and placing it once more into the rucksack. She gazed at the floor, following the dying light of the setting sun, knowing that she would have to get more.

Darkness slowly began to descend, a hot blanket of air settling across the abandoned buildings and streets, the tar seeping out in oblong shapes. The smell burnt the nostrils, and Ivara’s eyes began to water, sending her hands rubbing furiously at them. Her lungs burned as she spent the first minutes of the evening adjusting to the horrid air and smells of the night. Her rucksack slung to her back, tied in securely, Ivara began to navigate the smoldering ground. Avoiding the small fires that illuminated the dirt and gravel pathway, Ivara kept a vigilant watch of the last fading lights of the sun. The fires were casting ominous shadows across the sun-bleached walls of the abandoned houses as others began to appear, breaking her focus on the last remnants of sunlight.

Survivors like her began to emerge from the darkness, glimpses of tattered, dusty clothing and sun-burnt skin caught in the fires that dotted the land. Haze and dust clouded the air as the exhausted shuffling headed towards a distant blue-white light, glowing in the distance. A sound, muffled by the faint crackling of fires, echoed from the source of the light, too indistinct to comprehend. Ivara’s face twisted at the familiar sound, dry skin stretching and cracking. With each minute passing, she felt the panic rising, same as it had since the first time she and Nemi had journeyed to the distribution facility.

THIS WILL NOT SAVE YOU.

“At least they sugarcoated it.” Nemi’s face twisted in a wicked smile before dropping back to a more somber expression. Ivara returned the momentary smile, squeezing her wife’s interlocked hand.

“It’s not too crowded; we should go grab our bottles before it gets too dark.” Ivara glanced up at the sky nervously, the moon hidden behind skyscrapers that wafted lines of heat from exposure to the sun. She still couldn’t understand how the world had even come to this point.

THIS IS NOT A CURE.

Nemi let out an exasperated sigh at the automated announcement, pulling Ivara with her as she made her way inside. A few people protested, but most winced away, their skin bright red and blistering. The doors of the facility, though perpetually open, still wafted cold air through it, a relief that caused traffic at the entrance. Another announcement pierced through the air, louder inside the bare walls of the facility.

AUTOMATED SECURITY PROTECTS THIS FACILITY. THE RATION LIMIT IS ONE BOTTLE PER PERSON.

Angry-looking turrets scanned back and forth across every inch of the crowd, a barely visible laser passing over people momentarily. The room was little more than a large box. One end was lined with several racks, each holding a mass of blue bottles. Between each of these racks were large rectangular deposit bins, some holding now empty bottles. Behind the shelves was a series of bulletproof glass panels shielding the automated machinery that produced the unnamed salve.

THIS FACILITY OPENS FOR THREE HOURS AFTER SUNSET. THIS IS AN AUTOMATED PROGRAM. INTENSIVE LOCKDOWN WILL COMMENCE IN 25 MINUTES.

The couple pushed through the crowd, the announcement stirring anxiety that rippled through the interior. Ivara gripped her wife’s hand tighter as people began to move in both directions, some intent on leaving while others grasped for the remedy to their burns. Nemi guided them through, carving a path that found its destination in front of one of the fast emptying racks.

She swiped two off the shelf, a loud series of alarms blaring, a red laser brightened on Nemi’s chest as she froze, the crowd around her backing away. Slowly, she set one of the bottles back down on the rack, Ivara stepping around her in an equal manner and taking the bottle for herself. The laser swapped targets, now following Ivara’s movements as she settled next to her wife. After a long moment, a singular alarm went off, and the turret resumed its scan, the laser fading. Ivara let out her breath, the crowd pushing back in as she brought Nemi in for an embrace. “We should get out of here.”

“Way ahead of you, follow me,” Nemi replied shakily, her eyes looking across the crowd for a path out. The adrenaline subsiding, she began pushing through towards the dark portal that led outside, a slowing group beginning to form at the entrance.

RELIEF SUPPLIES ARE GONE. SURVIVAL IS AN INDIVIDUAL CHOICE. INTENSIVE LOCKDOWN WILL COMMENCE IN 15 MINUTES.

The panic set in across the crowd. People began pushing, stepping over each other as they scrambled for the exit. The doorway wasn’t far, but a sea of heads bobbed in front of them, held back by the small entryway. Nemi began pushing people out of the way, Ivara’s hand locked in a vice grip as they pushed out into the thick, hot air of the night. The crowd was loud and panicked, pushing in all directions as arguments and fights sparked across the sidewalk. Occasionally someone was thrown against the wall of the distribution facility, alarms blaring and lasers lighting the darkness. Neither looked back as the turrets flared to life, screams echoing across the fleeing crowd as the automated security defended the facility.

INTENSIVE LOCKDOWN HAS BEEN INITIATED. STEP AWAY FROM THIS FACILITY.

THIS WILL NOT SAVE YOU.

Ivara stopped walking, standing with a fresh bottle in one hand and her crowbar heavily gripped in her hand. She stood still in the bright floodlights that covered the entrance of the sun-bleached building. The air was heavier and burnt her nose this close to the center of town. Others shuffled around her, slow and meticulous as the weathered turrets continued their scans of the same areas. She stood, slightly trembling, as she waited for the following announcement, the anticipation building like an explosion inside her.

THIS IS NOT A CURE.

Tears streamed down, mixing with the sweat that coated her burnt face as she walked the same meandering path. Ivara didn’t look up as she followed the shaded walk back to her shelter. She had checked her supplies beforehand; she had enough for now. As the apartment building’s blackened walls and half-broken windows came into view, Ivara quickened her pace. The fires were starting to go out, the last pieces of kindling burnt away, and darkness finally stifling the land. Ivara pushed against the door, the handle too hot to hold, eventually leaning her shoulder into the side as it gave way, creaking heavily. Struggling it closed behind her, she shoved the overturned cabinet back in front, new scratches etching into the walls, before heading upstairs.

She closed the door behind her, each step kicking up dust as she walked back to the darker corner of the apartment. Exhausted, Ivara sat down on the side of the mattress, slowly untangling the rucksack from her back. Her hand brushed across the locket around her neck, the heat moving across her chest. She pulled the chain over her head, setting it beside her on the mattress. Settling down on the bed, she laid on her side, her bloodshot eyes tracing the crack in the front of the locket. Through the broken window, the distant booms of the turrets echoed through the night. As she listened, the occasional shout would pierce through from those unlucky enough to be caught by the myriad of dangers of the world. She squeezed her eyes shut, hand holding the warm metal to her as she slipped into dreams.