Bloody Sunday

Day 694:

Do you even know where you’re going, Linora?

The frail woman kept her gaze forward, ignoring the voice as her tired limbs carried her through the desolate streets marred with deep cracks full of vegetative growth reclaiming the asphalt. Slowly but surely, the world she’d grown to know in the aftermath of Bloody Sunday was disappearing too.

There was a time when recalling the large-scale fallout made her angry, sad, or confused; but now she felt nothing. Her life was mechanical: wake up, check for lurkers, four sips of water, two crackers, start walking; get home.

She’d been in New York for a job interview when the bombs dropped in D.C. Her family and friends were back home in California. Lockdowns were enacted and barricades were erected to keep everyone in place while the country scrambled to go on the offense.

Unlike the movies, the U.S. didn’t come out on top. No one did. A global sleeper cell, The Faceless, were activated twelve hours later. Their simple, black masks popped up on every screen imaginable during the largest organized hack in history as they claimed responsibility for the destruction of the world order.

Beckoning forth an era of pandemonium, they cited claims of hidden agendas and shadow governments that ruled from the comforts of their luxe lives. Their goal? To topple it all. Every infrastructure and every organized way of life would crumble due to their meticulous planning.

It had worked…Just a little too well. People without processes were more dangerous than anything the former Marine had ever seen. They killed, recklessly and without abandon. Those who were once peaceful, and kind were suddenly faced with the impossible: kill or be killed.

When The Faceless released a toxic agent into the water supplies a month later, everything else went downhill, fast. Most people died within days of exposure due to exsanguination. Linora had managed to evade and maneuver her way out of New York and into Wisconsin by then and had commandeered several LifeStraws as well.

The air was putrid and unlike any in the warzones she’d seen. There weren’t enough maggots and buzzards to pick away at the carrion. She’d found a few groups here and there, but those who didn’t die from the poison changed.

Their sclera slowly turned black until the abyss overtook the whole eye, blinding them. A disadvantage? Maybe, but their heightened hearing and speed made them formidable when their only motivations became murderous.

Nothing more, nothing less. Luckily, they didn’t discriminate among each other, so they weren’t a threat in numbers. Still, they’d amble in the plants feasting on insects and small animals until larger prey inevitably drew their attention.

Teeth would gnash into the raw, bones and all, as those skilled ears trained on every little sound. They were sick though. The human body, long since accustomed to a more—civilized pallet, would succumb to salmonella, botulism, and who knows what else.

Linora didn’t care to find out. She concentrated on keeping her steps light and her breathing even as she avoided the debris around her feet. She’d already passed three lurkers on her four-hour journey, and she was just too fucking close to get caught now.

It was a miracle, she thought, that she made it this far. Tally marks crisscrossed as scars on her body where she’d etched hashes to keep count of the lives she’d taken just to get back. She’d stopped counting after the first year but, if she had to guess, the number was well into the hundreds by now.

After settling in with an established community that turned out to be completely batshit crazy, Linora vowed to never trust another stranger again. She wouldn’t go out of her way to kill either, but her first inclination was decidedly anything but welcoming.

Most of the regular people left were the same way, really. They’d avoid each other at all costs but would occasionally help with lurkers if they found themselves on the same side of their pursuits. Running was useless with them anyway.

The woman paused and swayed as she took in the fallen sign to her right. “Welcome to San Diego!” Finally, I’ve been waiting for you. Shaking her head abruptly, she pressed on. The hours ticked by and the ache in her feet demanded that she stop.

A sturdy tree would be her shelter for the night. Pack and all, Linora shimmied herself up and out of swipe range. Settled against the uncomfortable bark for yet another night spent away, her blistered fingertips glided over the heart-shaped locket on the chain with her dog-tags.

It was battered and the cheap coating of gold paint had flaked off leaving it a dull silver smudged with grime, but it still opened. Inside, a thin layer of plastic shielded the photo from years of abuse. It was the only thing that’d kept her going all this time.

Her high school sweetheart and wife, Kiana, beamed back beatifically with her slightly taller frame draped over Linora’s shoulders. The scowl on the shorter woman was the exact one she was wearing now pressed against the knobby tree with bugs whirring around her face.

Snapping the locket shut and tucking it back beneath her shirt, she got comfortable, as best she could, and waited for the sun to rise once more. Just a little while longer, love. I’ll be there.

Day 695:

The sound of hurried footsteps below tore her from sleep, but she didn’t gasp. She knew better. Cautiously, she peered over and caught the unmistakable, inhuman movements of a lurker just before it leapt onto the back of some unfortunate soul. Screams filled the air, and Linora checked out.

It wouldn’t take long. The deed would be done, and the threat would move on. She just had to be patient. As luck would have it, another showed up due to the commotion and they ended up chasing each other off.

She remained in place a while longer just in case. Dropping down, the weary woman continued on. It would only take half a day if she kept a steady pace. Truthfully, she didn’t know what she’d say to her wife.

In fact, it’d been so long since she’d actually spoken, Linora wasn’t sure if she could say anything at all. There was also the very real possibility that her lover had moved on; from her, from this place, or even the world in general.

She’d toyed with those thoughts over and over again, but she couldn’t rest until she knew for sure. They promised each other forever, and that included to always try and come back. She released a quiet hum, the vibrations tickling her throat in that vaguely familiar way caused the most imperceptible of smiles to tug at her lips.

In relatively no time, it felt, she finally set foot outside of Chula Vista. Unsurprisingly, their neighborhood was in shambles. The guard shack near the gate was in pieces, and the iron barrier itself was torn almost completely off its hinges.

Someone had parked several cars horizontally, effectively blocking the entryway, and that gave her a sliver of hope. Carefully, she scaled over. The sunbaked metal burned her palms. Once across, she began the harrowing journey to the home she’d left behind for what was supposed to be the opportunity of a lifetime.

Her heart thundered painfully against her ribs. The weight of the locket serving as her only grounding point with every light bounce it made in time with her steps. Her excitement came with a price though.

She failed to notice her attacker until it was too late. Midstride, a blunt object struck her in the back of the head, knocking her out almost instantly. The peaceful, blue sky faded from her vision as soon as a blurred face came into view as she was rolled over.

Day 696:

“She’s been out for a while now.”

Linora tried to stay conscious, but the pain at the back of her skull was too much.

“The boss is gonna be pissed that you hit her like that!”

“Yeah, well better that than us being slaughtered!”

The voices were grating and caused her to groan in annoyance.

“She’s awake! I’ll go get Blanco.”

Heavy footfalls headed her way, and Linora braced for worse to come. She’d been in a similar predicament before. It was why she was missing two fingernails now. The sash around her head was lifted, and her eyes shut tightly against the blinding light.

A hand gripped her hair and raised her head slightly, “What’s your name?” The man asked and her dried lips split when she didn’t answer, earning herself a solid slap. “What’s your name?!” He screamed in her face sending a flurry of spittle across her nose and mouth.

Linora let her shoulders fall slack before she surged forward, headbutting him. A fountain of blood poured from his nose as the boy, she could see when he stumbled back, cradled his face, and tried but failed not to cry.

“I’ll fucking kill you, you bitch!”

Before he could follow through, the door burst open. “That’s enough, Eli!” Linora’s head was spinning with the added injury, and with her eyes clenched closed and her head tilted forward against the throb in her forehead, she couldn’t meet the newcomer’s approach.

A much gentler hand tilted her chin up and pressed something wet and cool to her face. “That’s quite the gash you have there. I must admit, pretty impressive considering you got knocked out with the butt of a shotgun yesterday.”

Linora could only grunt in response. “My name’s, Blanco. I gather you don’t talk much, but if you don’t find your voice before I take you to meet the boss, you won’t be leaving here alive.” The man assured.

After cleaning her face a bit more, Blanco hefted her up, draping one of her arms over his shoulders as he practically dragged her out of the room, then the house to the largest in the neighborhood.

She remembered the old couple that used to live there and figured they didn’t any longer. It made sense for it to be the command post, it’s certainly what she would’ve done. Two guards posted out front opened the door upon their arrival.

Blanco acknowledged her effort to walk on her own by slowing to accommodate her labored gait. After depositing her in a worn seat outside what she could only assume was a home office, he handed her a handkerchief for the persistent trickle of blood from the laceration near her hairline.

He knocked on the door and received a muffled; “Enter.” Blanco propped it open before helping Linora to her feet again. A large desk separated the two from the leader who regarded them with disinterest.

Sharp eyes raked over her once, and she had to suppress the urge to flinch. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. Despite the pain, Linora leaned out of Blanco’s supportive hold to stand on her own.

“You broke my son’s nose.” He stated coldly. All she could manage was a terse nod.

“He can be a menace at times, but…that doesn’t change the fact that you waltzed in here uninvited. Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

Try as she might, Linora couldn’t find her voice, and that frayed the last thread of his patience. Quickly, he stood and pulled a cocked pistol on her, “Speak!”

Trembling slightly, she opened her mouth. A harsh rasp spilled from her lips as the door reopened from behind, startling them all. She resisted the urge to turn and assess the new threat, but the irritated look on the older man’s face followed by the relieved one she could perceive on Blanco’s made her feel a fraction better.

“I was able to reset his nose just fine. He’s alright, Elias.”

Her eyes widened in disbelief. That voice. It’s real...

She turned abruptly, bullet in the spine be dammed.

“K-Kiana?”

“Lin?!”