Like the few times she’d seen him drunk, Mensha stumbled and swayed through the office. Except with far less flirting and more desperately trying not to vomit, which did remind her of a few dates she’d had.
His feet found every obstacle and if wasn’t for her firm grip on his shoulder he’d meet them on the ground. He covered his nose with his hand yet it didn’t help nor did breathing through his mouth.
They reached the staircase and Summer stared at the many hard steps, she glanced at the swaying man in her arms. “I’m carrying you.” She stated.
“I can manage,” he said his steady voice marred by stifled breaths
“I’m carrying you,”
Mensha spoke but he swallowed the words with another surge of vomit. He nodded.
“After you empty your stomach.” He closed his eyes leaned on the door frame and wavered her off.
She found a turned-over and relatively clean garbage can and brought it to him. He lost his stomach as soon she brought it close. He wretched, violently, convulsing with wheezed breaths until his stomach emptied and continuing until she pulled him up. Her stomach roiled in sympathy and she placed the bin far away without looking inside.
He smiled as he hadn’t emptied half his soul and she felt all the worse.
“Let’s go,” she said, and slipped her bag to her front and carefully helped him onto her back. He was surprisingly light.
She took the steps as smoothly and slowly as she could. Yet she winced at the slight jolt in her movement. He didn’t complain and remained silent as she let him off and they stepped into the street. Though he tensed and his breath slowed to vanishing. “I, I think you should cover your nose with a rag or something.” She whispered
He was silent eyes half-lidded. “Oh, that’s a good idea, thanks,” he said
He retrieved and wrapped a shirt around his face. His relief was immediate as he took a full breath. He gave her a pair of thumb-ups and she smiled as his swaying eased from disastrous to precarious.
She pried her gaze away, and they began walking. They broke into the freeway and her partner removed his mask. He wandered around the truck his nose held in the air, then brought to the road and the surrounding vehicles. Hilarious save for the deep discomfort every breath painted on his face.
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“So,” she started.
“Yes, I can find them.” He muttered and wrapped the shirt over his face.
“What’s it like?” she said and followed as he trundled down the road.
He didn’t speak until they were well away from the truck. “Every things more, present, especially the blood and I can barely focus on any particular thing. It’s overwhelming.” He said voice muffled. Yet a hint of wonder swam in his queasy mutter.
“Is it going to get better?” she asked through the pictures of dread.
He smiled, “I think so, and if not I can always try undoing it.”
“You think?”
His eyes set in wan humor. “I think.”
That didn’t fill her with confidence.
Yet despite her tumbling thoughts, Mensha led her, removing his mask at times. Then leading her magnetically to traces of blood hidden under the shades plodding feet.
They stayed clear of the pillars as they brought Mensha’s sensitivity to an incapacitating extreme. His strength left him in parts no helped bodies they found in the crowd. Summer carried him as his pace slowed and Mensha pointed the way from her back. They hastened and Summer no longer worried he’d trip and smash his head open on one of the many items that littered the streets.
Their search led them for hours and she noted no heart-twisting terrors harassing the shades. Though the crowd could have hidden them.
“Can you smell the monsters?” She as Mensha pointed her to a branch of the thoroughfare.
“Yes,” he said voice low and sedate beyond his usual passivity.
“I can smell one now” She halted mid-step.
“What?” she said slowly turning her head to glare at him.
He didn’t bother lifting his head from her shoulder. “Old traces, I’d have told you if there were any near.” He muttered.
Sweat plastered his face, and his eyes fluttered open to look at her. She looked forward a curse on her lips.
He clearly wasn’t in any state to be thinking anything. She stifled a sigh. “Sorry, Mensha you need a break I should’ve noticed earlier.”
“It’s fine, beside’s something is coming up.” He said and she reckoned he’d have waved a hand if his consciousness wasn’t preoccupied with thoughts of not vomiting.
She glanced at the man on her shoulder.
“Trust me,” he muttered without opening his eyes.
She sniffed the air but all she found was blood. She sighed and pressed forward. Minutes passed and the crowd broke.
A dark plain expanded below them sparks from lit buildings and distant spears painted the outline of a dark abandoned edifice of rundown suburbia. As shades skittered around the faint motes of light that shone on the mostly one-story buildings. Further, still, an oasis of light shone, its unseen source painted the distant light a cool silver.
Her gaze fell to the street, the press of darkness was absent, and few shades shuffled along the steep street lined with houses.
On one front lawn surrounded by unnaturally tall grasping blades of grass and a dead woman lay.
Her heart clenched as she rushed towards the body. Her hand rushed to her throat, she was cold, and not a drop of life flowed through her.
“It’s fine they’re a large group of around a dozen people,” Mensha whispered in her ear.
She stood and stared at the terror painted on her face. She looked at the expanse of buildings below her, her feet itched and she took a step. A warm breath brushed her neck and she stooped. She glanced at the man behind her and turned away.