I prided myself on my ability to keep working.
A year since Z-day, many began to die out due to the injuries they gained over surviving or the sickness that came from it. Others died from not being able to adapt. The weight of the world and having to continue from it's fragmented state being all too much.
Me? I kept going. Even as people dropped like flies and wounds littered me, I kept going. I don't know why I needed to but I just felt as if I had to.
It's funny how now I was more than ready to stop.
I didn't know when I passed out. I just remembered the muffled noises and the feeling of being dragged and that god awful pain in my head. The drill like torture being placed at the base of my neck and inched towards my temples. I must've blacked out from the pain.
Then the next moment I found myself propped up against a ragged old couch. The springs protesting as I finally moved. It was sickly green color that perhaps would've looked much better at a different time. Shaking my head, I swung my legs over the edge. Opting to ground myself on the torn up carpet below. My mind quiet for once. Only whispers of pain spoke to me as I looked around.
It was a closet size break room. Little cabinets stayed open and so too was the fridge. What little decor was in here didn't add much to the appeal of the room. A dusty and dull painting of some landscape. An obviously fake plant hung in the right corner. One single table and chair was pressed to the wall on the left. Empty but it gets the job done for being a place of rest.
As if it was fate, the door to room opened softly. A woman entered, her eyes pinned to the ground, as she carried a tray with shaking hands. In the other was a plain black purse. With a sigh she shut the door equally as gently before turning around.
The yelp that came from her was enough to make me chuckle a bit. Amused over her behaviorism before I finally spoke.
"Guessin you're the medic here?"
She paused. Cracked lips pursing before nodding. Another sigh left her lips as she drew closer, setting the bag down and passed me the tray. What was on it was the apocalypse standard for what was food.
Bottle of water, a bowl of soup, some stale crackers and some dried jerky.
I thanked her as she turned her attention back to the bag, allowing me time to eat. This caused the room to fall back to silence. The only main sound was the shuffling of her pulling things out of her bag and me munching on the jerky. After a couple of minutes she finally turned back to me, gently placing the tray next to me on the couch so that she could, what I'm guessing at least, do a small check up.
The thought made me laugh inside a bit. This being my first check up in a long while, it felt good to be reminded of what old age society was.
She soon began the standard eye-flashlight check. Sticking her tongue out as I followed whatever she told me to do. Well, sort of. I couldn't help but stare at her. Another relic of the past no doubt but my brain put back the blocks. Unable to put a name to her face.
She had a tanner skin tone, I think it was described as golden? And with black freckles peppering her face. Deep scars ran on the right side of her head indicating perhaps she was clawed there. Yet all of this didn't matter to me, no.
It was her hair that was the subject of my attention. A strange cacophony of dyes and all sorts of colors. Patches of lime, red, and violet mingled whilst pastel blue and fushia spoke to one another. Underneath was a hastily colored white and, at the roots, were the beginnings of dark brown.
It's an unsightly mess. Yet the colors, however bright and vibrant it was, felt comforting. A splash of color in a world muddled by grays.
I finally snapped my attention back to her. A question hung in the air but I was too late to notice it. She pursed her lips as she leaned back. Crossing her arms as a tired look crossed her face.
"I take it that you don't remember me?"
I gulped and slowly nodded. She sighed once more.
"Can't blame you..." She coughed, clearing her throat as she stuck her hand out. "Call me Ace."
I nodded, slowly shaking her hand when the sounds of stomps echoed from outside the room. Within seconds, the door opened as an enraged Bryce grumbled as he slammed it closed just as fast. The loud sound causing me to wince before shooting the man a glare.
His face turned back to normal upon realizing I was okay but slowly hardened once he realized Ace was there.
"She's better." He asked, well more like spat out towards the woman. She sighed, rolling her eyes, as her shaking hands continued to pack up the rest of her gear.
"She is. Just needs to rest."
She left without another word leaving me with a grumbling Bryce. I just raised a brow at him as he tried to take a deep breath but failed. His anger tumbling over in a messy haste.
"That fucking prick..."
"Hold the phone. What did I miss?" I asked as he looked back at me. With another grumble, he leaned against the wall closest to me and ran a hand through his hair.
"Richard's threatening to chuck you out."
"Excuse me?!" I yelled out causing him to wince. He nodded eventually as he glared harshly into the floor. No doubt imagining the many ways he could put an end to the man we rescued a few hours ago. Gritting my teeth I stood up.
"I was passed out for what? a few hours? The fucking asshole."
He just sighed and nodded in agreement.
A soft thud from the door drew our attention. Before long the other feminine figure I saw was there. Blonde hair tied up in a ponytail as she wore a beaten up old white tank top. Her blue eyes shot down to me for a split second but turned to Bryce. Acting as if I was not even in the room at all.
"You all good in here?"
"Yeah, thanks for checking in Elles." He answered. She nodded before leaving equally as fast as she entered. I bit my lip before turning to him.
"Should..." I gulped dryly, " Should I ask how I know these people?"
He just gave me a small shake of the head. Simply standing up and helping me back on my feet.
"Let's just get you situated and maybe you can ask me that again."
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