Passing On

The woman shuffles along the road, looking like someone who hasn’t slept in days. She sways gently as she meanders up the road, ignoring scattered rubbish and debris. Kit follows her on dampened feet. She at least is more wary of the trash lest she draw attention to herself. The wandering woman pauses and tilts her head back. Kit darts in, drawing her weapon from the sheath on her chest. Before the woman can turn fully, the six inch ice pick is embedded firmly in her ear. Her cry is aborted and her limbs twitch but Kit wraps her arms around them.

“There, there,” she murmurs as she lowers the still spasming corpse to the ground. “Easy. It’s over now. Go peacefully.”

The dead woman does not have a last breath to rattle and her eyelids do not close over clouded and scratched corneas. Kit closes them for her. Hands with fingers torn down to bone are crossed over a thin, bloodied chest and matted blonde hair is gently brushed to the sides.

Kit smiles down at the dead woman, bittersweetness in the twist of her lips.

“You would have been gorgeous in life, I think. Damn girl, with those hips and that tracksuit I’d say you were a proper MILF.” She gives a dry chuckle. “Save me a Bloody Mary, wherever you end up.”

Kit pulls the ice pick out with a sigh and wipes it on a well used rag. As she goes to get up, a gleam catches her eye. Kit leans back over the corpse and gently traces the gold chain around its neck down to the heart shaped pendant tucked into the soiled gym top. Kit hesitates, but then uses the edge of one fingernail to open the locket.

“To Mom. Love Lizzie.” It’s a sadder smile this time as she looks at the engraving and the miniscule picture accompanying it.

Kit bites her lip, but reaches back for the clasp of the necklace and undoes it.

“I don’t know if your Lizzie survived all of this, so I’ll remember you both.”

She fastens the locket around her own neck, gets up, dusts off her knees, and begins her hunt again.

***

“I got the bitch!” crows David. He rests the shotgun on his shoulder and puffs out his chest. Alan grins and claps him on the shoulder.

“Good hunt, my man.”

Alan turns from his friend to the dark skinned-woman who’s crawling away from them, leaving a visceral streak behind on the sidewalk as she presses a hand to her perforated abdomen.

“Ah fuck Dave! You’ve ruined her! She’s gonna bleed out in like a minute. We can’t have any fun before she’s dead.”

“Ah. Right. My bad.” David scratches his chin and grimaces at Alan.

The woman gurgles and goes still, her eyes turning glassy. Alan shrugs and sniffs.

“Maybe less than a minute. Ah well. I've got a ton of other memories of begging and screaming to enjoy. Let’s see what she had on her.”

They tear apart her backpack, finding some small weapons, a bunch of crappy survival gear, an ice pick — Alan snatches it from David before he can poke his own damned eye out — and some tinned food.

“Oh! Jackpot! I love Spaghetti-Os!” David yells.

Alan grunts and continues feeling the woman’s clothes for any other concealed weapons. He finds none but does chance upon a gleaming necklace with a poxy little heart locket on it. He yanks it off and holds it up to the light.

“Whatta ya reckon? This solid?”

David nods, looking impressed. “You could probably trade it if it’s real gold.”

“Or, I might just start a little collection...” Alan grins and wraps it around his wrist.

***

Teagan lowers their eyes from the scope and sucks in a deep breath. Killing the already dead was easy. Shooting the living, as horrible as some of them were now, still made them feel like hurling.

Teagan spins at the sound of a door opening behind them. They relax as a gruff, older man steps through, squinting through the gloom.

“You alright kid?”

“Fine Ben. Thanks.” Teagan sighs again and begins packing up the rifle.

Thick, scarred fingers close over theirs and it is only then that Teagan realises that they’re shaking.

“Hey. It’s okay.”

The awful sob escapes their chest before they can stop it. Ben manhandles them into a hug and strokes their hair until the ugly crying quiets.

“It’s awful. I know. You should have never had to do this.”

“It’s okay. I’m okay. And I do have to do this. I’m the sharpest shot you've got.”

Ben leans back and looks Teagan straight in the eyes.

“I wish you didn’t have to,” he says softly.

Teagan sniffs one last time and raises a shaky eyebrow.

“Don’t we all?”

Ben chuckles. “Well, if you’re okay enough to start sassing me again, it’s time to get up.”

Teagan grumbles but acquiesces. They pack up the bipod, but leave the sandbags. The two would have to come back to this perch the next time a gang attacked the compound.

Teagan follows Ben down to the ground level and they meet up with the rest of the team who have been stripping the bodies. Teagan hovers at the edge. Their fingers twitch in a desire to help, but the green in their face suggests an inability to loot the corpses they have just created.

“All done. Come on kid,” Ben grunts as the others pack up and begin to head out. The first fingers of dawn stretch through the forest of abandoned skyscrapers. Teagan is about to turn away from the battlefield when a gold wink draws their attention. Teagan's face twists in fury at the tangle of chains and bracelets around the wrist of the thick, tattooed man who is laid sprawled and limp on the cracked tarmac.

“Trophies,” they spit as they approach the body. “Thanks for the confirmation that you really were a monster. You make me remember why I do this.”

Teagan steels themself and alleviates the small golden heart from the knot of jewellery. A soft smile dawns shakily on Teagan’s face as they crack open the pendant and read the sweet inscription.

***

Ben’s knees creak as he hauls himself to his feet.

“Christ. I’m too old to be living through an apocalypse,” he mutters. He waits for Teagan's trademarked snark and winces when there’s only silence. He looks down at the fresh, loamy dirt. They’d had to use a playground for the burial ground and the sight of crude gravemarkers against the colourful but rusting children’s equipment leaves a sour taste in the mouth.

“I think you would have liked it here. You were always looking for these little spots of calm. Where the world hadn’t broken yet. Like the time I found you in that Hot Topic. You looked like a normal teenager just browsing and trying things on.”

Ben stops and takes a shaky breath.

“I’m sorry that you had to grow up in this wretched world. I’m so sorry that you were forced to do these godawful things and to hurt and to kill. I’m so sorry…” To his chest, Ben clutches the golden heart locket Teagan had taken to wearing around. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t save you. Christ, there’s so many I couldn’t save. My mind is too old for this shit. I’ll struggle to remember you all, but I’ll bloody well try."

***

Beth smiles tenderly at the old guy in bed eight. It is heart-breaking and heartening at the same time. Ben Barnes is suffering from the later stages of Alzheimer's. Which meant that he had survived long enough in this changed world to even get that far.

The hospital Beth is getting training at had reopened its doors last year. It had not been raided in at least three months and there was a nearly uninterrupted flow of electricity, water and medical supplies now. The quarantine zones were working and people were actually starting to move back into the houses.

Beth’s head snaps up as a blonde woman in a hospital gown is led past by one of the other trainee nurses. Her face lights as the woman turns, but then falls as the eyes and face do not match those from her memory. Beth shakes her head harshly and turns away. It’s bad enough that she spends hours looking through the notes and pictures on the Lost Walls. It’s impossible and she knows it.

“How are we feeling today Mr. Barnes?” she asks, picking up the chart from the end of the old man’s bed. He makes an enquiring noise and looks at her with eyes that are not quite focussed.

“I see you got jello for breakfast! Lucky you! That was the first jello I’ve seen in years and it all went to the patients.”

“Oh, yes, it was good,” replies Ben, not even looking at the wobbling green blob on his tray.

When Beth leans closer to check his responses, the old man grabs her wrist with white knuckles. Faraway eyes flick to her.

“Tea?”

Beth grimaces and pats Ben’s hand. He has quite the grip for a septuagenarian.

“Yes, I can probably rustle you up a cup of tea if you want?”

The man’s brow furrows.

“Tea…” he mutters, gaze darting around. He lasers in on Beth again. “Teagan?”

Beth strokes his hand, her mouth curving down.

“No Ben. I’m not Teagan. I’m Beth. Your nurse.”

“That’s right. Beth. Teagan was a good kid. Did I ever tell you about them?”

Beth inhales sharply. Ben very rarely has lucid moments anymore, but right now his eyes are clear and his face is bright.

“Teagan had this. Took it from… Carried it ‘round.” Ben sighs. He blinks. “Teagan?” he asks in a small voice. Beth sighs too. She should have known it wouldn’t last long. Ben was nearing the end. The old man finally releases her arm but not before something slithers into her palm.

“Oh. You dropped this…” But Ben is already turning away to roll onto his side.

Beth looks down at her palm and the heart-shaped locket sitting there. It’s scuffed and the corners of the gold are now smooth from the touch of many fingers. The hinges are so ingrained with dirt it’s nearly impossible to get open. When she manages it, she finds herself curled on the floor, eyes blurred with salt and memories and throat clogged with snot and emotion. One finger traces the words she’d asked her father to have engraved inside while she stares at the portrait of a woman she never thought she’d see again.