You awaken in the crisp cool of dawn to a startled yelp followed by giggles. You lazily rub your eyes and emerge from your tent to see Connor spinning Dave around, laughter surrounding the pair as Dave’s legs flail.
It’s… really cute. Connor’s grip is decidedly gentle and almost intimate, and your cheeks heat up despite the chaste nature of the scene before you. What are they to each other?
The two get dizzy and fall over, tumbling into the dirt with unconcealed mirth. Captain is hovering nearby, eyes narrowed, gaze locked on the pair of men tangled on the ground. You can almost hear them grinding their teeth.
The two men sprawl out in the grass, staring at the sky, remaining silent for some time. Dave’s head rests on Connor’s bulky chest; Connor takes shallow breaths and runs gloved fingers through Dave’s hair. You wonder what it was like when it was just them, alone in a newly reborn world.
Harley grumpily emerges from her tent, long hair tangled and shirt rumpled. She seems put off by the state of her hair, so you walk over to her, and ask, “Hey, do you need help with your hair?”
She is still unable to speak, but the way her eyes light up and the big grin that illuminates her face speak more than enough. You still wait until she nods, just to be sure.
Waving her over, you point at a stump and tell her to sit. She does so. You meander to where the two large hiking packs are leaning against a tree, and ask their owners, “Is there a brush in one of these things?”
Connor laughs, making Dave’s head bounce with every exhale, and tells you to look through the side pockets of Dave’s blue pack. You should’ve figured it was in Dave’s—Connor barely has any hair. Four pockets later and you have a lavender brush in your hands, which you hold up triumphantly in the air for Harley to see. She giggles and claps in a manner that would be condescending from anyone but her.
You stand behind Harley and begin brushing her dark, almost black hair. It’s unbelievably soft and thick. You marvel at its beauty, wondering how it managed to say so soft after going G-d knows how long without being conditioned.
Harley hums contentedly as you gently detangle her long locks, and a soft breeze caresses your cheeks. Your nostrils fill with the scent of the mountain, lonely and somber, and you briefly close your eyes.
Shaking your head, you ask Harley how she wants her hair done. She’s still unable to talk, so it takes a fair amount of miming on her part, but she eventually expresses a desire for braids. You nod.
Hobbling back to Dave’s pack, you dig around some more and find two scrunchies. You don’t know where you learned to braid but your fingers seem to know what they’re doing, so you don’t worry about it too much. Your fine motor skills still aren’t quite what they used to be but there’s a marked improvement from yesterday, so you’ll take what you can get.
It takes a few minutes but soon enough Harley is the proud owner of two pigtail braids. She is overjoyed, wrapping you up in a big hug and kissing your cheek.
Breakfast is a small affair, a simple meal of deer jerky and blueberries.
The berries are absolutely delicious, though, and you gobble yours up quickly. They’re juicy in the most wonderful way; you can’t remember the last time you ever ate something so tasty. You have a hard time wiping the grin off your face, and remembering the last time you ate anything at all.
With all five of you helping, packing up your meager camp doesn’t take long. Stifling your laughter, you avoid Dave’s eyes as he wrestles the tents back into Connor’s bag. You wonder if this is going to happen every day.
Watching Dave curse under his breath at the inanimate objects, you sure hope it will.
With tents away, you and Connor brush your teeth in silence, not making eye contact while repeatedly shoving your fingers into your mouths. Damn him for forgetting toothbrushes. He passes you some deodorant, which you gratefully sweep under your arms, and soon enough everyone is ready to begin hiking again.
Captain looks immensely displeased, which seems about right. Harley looks almost spaced-out, staring off into the forest with her mouth slightly open, which also seems about right. Dave and Connor take up the lead again, and the group continues along the trail, footsteps loud against the dirt and stone. Everything is as it should be.
You suddenly notice the dark shadow stemming from the base of your personal Olympus. The mountains seem closer, larger. You gulp.
It’s cooler than yesterday, thank god; you’re sweating a lot less. This might just be because you’re in the shadow of the mountains, but you won’t look a gift horse in the mouth. It’s a nice change of pace. The sun sears your tingling cheeks, and you know you’ll be burned by noon, despite the lower temperatures. Apollo may be doing his job a little too well.
Almost two hours pass in silence before Connor loudly groans, “G-d this is so boring.”
You agree with the sentiment but aren’t exactly sure how to remedy the situation. Even before all this, you weren’t known as the life of the party.
“What do you suggest, hmn? More rousing verses of ‘When You Die’?” Dave teases his partner, elbowing him playfully in the gut. The two men share a look and you’re dying to know what happened. There’s definitely a story there.
Connor snorts, “No, dumbass.” He pauses. “Well… Maybe. That could be kinda fun, now that I think about it.”
“Anyone want to tell us what the hell ‘When You Die’ is?” Captain demands petulantly, arms crossed and eyebrows furrowed. You’re glad they said something but wish they would’ve been less… awful about it.
Dave, unperturbed by Captain’s sour attitude, laughs amicably, “It’s a song Rowdy came up with. Him, Jian, and Buck were the first people we uncovered, and we spent most of our time back then just sorta hikin’ around lookin’ for people. To pass the time, we tried to sing camp songs but none of us could remember any of the words, just the tunes. So Rowdy decided to just, fill in the lyrics with whatever came to his head and sang ‘When You Die’ to the tune of ‘She’ll Be Coming Around the Mountain’.”
“It sort of went like this,” Connor inhales,
You’ll get mauled by a bear when you die!
You’ll get mauled by a bear when you die!
Oh, you’ll get mauled by a bear
You’ll get mauled by a bear
You’ll get mauled by a bear when you die! (when you die)
“And then the next person would come up with crazy ways to die like ‘struck by lighting’ or ‘dropped from an airplane’ and it just keeps going around. It was a lot of fun.”
That actually does sound like a lot of fun, but you’re way more focused on how well Connor can sing than anything involving the actual song. You know you only met him yesterday and have no reason to have many preconceived notions of him, but you definitely did not expect him to sing so beautifully. As dumb as the song was, you could listen to Connor sing it on loop for days, he’s so talented.
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Dave is staring at Connor the way Narcissus stared at his reflection. You wonder what to make of that. You figure you’re looking at him in much the same way.
With Captain being stubborn and Harley still being mute, the burden of the ‘When You Die’ verses falls upon you, Dave, and Connor. Harley claps happily along as you each sing, belting out whatever pops into your head as a way to die.
Dave’s are pretty basic, like drowning in a lake or falling from a tree, which suits him well enough. Yours are more interesting, but only just barely. Eating poison berries or falling off a cliff is certainly a more glamourous way to go.
Connor, being the brilliant madman he is, comes up with the best ones. His make everyone—including an extremely reluctant Captain—burst out laughing. You get a kick out of imagining getting shot by your Uncle Irving, spontaneously combusting, or getting eaten by a squirrel.
Many hours pass this way, in laughter and in song.
Lunch comes and goes quickly, as a brief stop to munch on some strawberries and deer jerky. You’re already sick of jerky but realistically you’ll be eating it for every meal until you make it to camp, so you better get used to it, sister. It’s a harrowing thought.
The hours after lunch are quiet, the entire party seeming to fall into deep thought, though you really don’t know why. Your brain feels empty, filled with cotton and static. You wonder if you’ll ever see static again—then again, you really don’t think you’ll miss it.
Things have changed. At least you don’t have to pay any taxes in the foreseeable future.
Even in your mind that joke falls flat, and you frown. Everyone is in front of you so no one notices you back there, grimacing into the trees like your saliva turned to blood. If the gods see you, they give no indication.
You wonder what it would be like, lounging amongst the clouds. Could you touch the stars? Could you survey the lands of mortals? What would you do all day, with naught but your mind and the sun to keep you company? Would it be worth it?
You shake your head. You really need to stop getting philosophical, it really does you no good. It just makes you nauseas.
Maybe it’s the sun making you nauseas, you concede, but you can’t be sure. You don’t know how long it’s been but you’re sweaty and tired and you just want to sit. You say nothing, of course. Wouldn’t want to burden the others with your shortcomings and inability to regulate your own body temperature.
Honestly, you expected the nuclear apocalypse to be more… devastating. The lush forests and meandering streams speak nothing of the end of civilization. You always pictured a wasteland, endless expanding deserts and ravaged crumbling cities.
This is nicer than you imagined it could be, so count your blessings. You now have a veritable garden of Eden at your fingertips. Don’t let it go to waste.
As Apollo drags the sun closer to the mountains, your lungs heave.
Dave stretches his back and announces, “If I remember correctly there should be a deep bit of river nearby, we should make camp near there so we can all bathe.” The idea of a bath makes you groan appreciatively, and Connor tosses you a look. You ignore him and he laughs.
His wicked grin tells you all you need to know, but for the benefit of the others he teases, “Sounds like Flash likes that idea.”
“Shut up, jackass,” You reply mildly, enjoying the rapport you have with the gloved man. He grins that chipped grin of his and you feel accomplished.
The two men take pity on you and the others, firmly telling you to sit and wait while they wander around in search of the river. The permeating sounds of water caressing rock makes you think you won’t be waiting long, but you have no complaints. You don’t mind having a little sit-down.
You lounge on a mossy stump, soaking up the mild sundown rays. You wonder how close the river really is.
As it turns out, it is actually quite close.
Everyone falls into the pattern established the night before, with Harley and Captain’s roles switched. Connor, ever the gentleman, insists “ladies first” as far as bathing order goes.
Cap and Dave work on the fire while you and Connor take stock of the food reserves. There is more than enough deer jerky, some assorted berries, and dried rice. “Is this it?” You mumble to yourself. “This is piss poor.”
Connor cackles and you look at him, eyes wide, confused. Then it hits you. “I said that out loud, didn’t I?” You ask despite knowing the answer.
The tall man claps you on the shoulder. “Oh, Flash. What will we do with you?”
It sounds endearing, so you blush and look away, determined to focus on dinner. Your supplies are admittedly meager but with Connor at the helm, you two are sure to come up with something edible.
You do eventually come up with… something. It’s honestly just all three of those things cooked together but it doesn’t taste too bad. Throughout dinner, the others take turns bathing in the crisp river. You’ll go after.
Captain is quite vocal about how much they dislike the meal but the clean plate they hand you after dinner tells a whole different story. You smile to yourself.
Because Connor did most of the cooking, you offer to wash the dishes. It seems only fair. Dave smiles and thanks you, reaching into his bag to extract a bottle of dish soap. He passes it to you as one passes a torch.
The river is a peaceful place. The water is clear and cold, hiding nothing from your gaze, liked poured glass between the banks.
You plop down on the rocks, leaning forward to wash the dishes. The solitude is a welcome change and you revel in it.
The revelation lasts only a moment as isolation sets in; suddenly you remember that you may be one of only 12 people left on the planet. There may be no one else beyond the trees and ferns of your new domain. If the gods know they do not share, watching mortals with disdain from high up above the clouds.
Cold water numbs your fingers as you scrub, raw and biting in the setting sun. A light blinks amongst the tangled trees. You stand, ever curious, and cautiously approach the thicket. The light blinks again, and you realize it’s a firefly.
As you finish the dishes you notice more and more fireflies emerging from the darkness, like stars shimmering at the edge of your vision, winking in and out of existence at whim. You wonder what they’re saying.
Every flicker of bioluminescence reminds you that you will never be truly alone in the world. Epimetheus’ creations will always roam this earth, listening to the hollow moans of Prometheus through the trees.
You stand.
Camp is quiet upon your return, Captain and Harley already in their tents for the night. Dave and Connor are sitting by the fire, leaning against one another, fiddling with one of the many metal scraps Connor found in your bunker. The tents are up, thank god. Dave waves at you.
You return the wave and rummage through Dave’s backpack, removing the soap, a towel, and toothpaste. He nods as you amble back to the riverbank.
The toothpaste you grabbed is cinnamon, you realize, and you crinkle your nose. It’ll have to do but you’re certainly not happy about it. You strip, neatly folding all your clothes in a little pile.
River water feels colder on your naked body than it did on your hands, your dick shriveling away from the frigid depths as you doggy paddle. Dave was right when he said the river got deep here—you can barely reach the bottom at its deepest point, and you’re over six feet tall.
Swimming around for a bit, you enjoy the fireflies and the echoing insect calls.
You lather while humming a song you can’t remember the words to. The soap is lavender, and you inhale deeply. You feel clean for the first time you can remember.
Emerging from the water, you shiver in the balmy air, squinting in search of your towel. You spot the beige bastard next to your folded clothes and pad over, enveloping yourself in its dry warmth. You’re not completely dry when you pull on your boxers but you’re not uncomfortable so you don’t worry.
Forgoing a shirt because of the humidity, you shimmy into your blue booty shorts with a bit of wiggling. The night is calm yet uneasy.
Yawning, you amble back to camp, noting the dying embers and zipped tents. You crawl into the only empty one with ease and flop onto your back, eyes already heavy with fatigue, and sigh. You’re tired, but not like yesterday.
You are viscerally, unfathomably tired.
oOo
You float on a sea of emptiness. The void ebbs and flows like the tide, ever-changing and vast, blurring your jagged edges. You feel yourself bleeding into the dark. Stars surround and infuse you, blinding you with their brilliance and searing your bones.
The moon is nowhere to be found. She sleeps, somewhere beyond the sky, lost to the ages in the abyss. You and her are both warm and cold, shivering in the gloam.
Everything is soft. The nothingness holds you like a lover, caressing your cheeks with delicate tendrils, naught but whispers in the dark. You swallow and the whole world shudders.
And suddenly you fall, into the emptiness, gaze unmoving. The stars laugh as you descend with melted wings. You can’t feel your heartbeat but you don’t think you’ve ever had one. The weight of your sins drags you down, and you sink lower into the depths.
You’re alone.
Silence envelopes you and crawls down your throat, seeking purchase in the maze of your bowels. You choke on it. You hear laughter but there is no sound, no echoes in the gloom, no ripples in the murky waves. Did you ever hear it at all?
Oh, how you long for the sun as you drift motionless through the chasm. Distant stars wink, teasing you with warmth you cannot feel, reveling in your still torment. You hate them, but they do not care.
Are you falling? Are you still? You do not know.