Now though, Rhode was here. To not be awakened by the harsh red sun or the emptiness but a shake of a hand was such an incredible, flowing feeling. "Get up, asshole." My eyes peeled open to see Rhode standing overhead, holding a cutiron over her shoulder. Her methods of self defense were creative and improvised, but the weapon she held now was a jagged length of iron, which was surprising. She was smirking, not genuinely happy but proud to be in control, being my personal dirty-mouthed alarm clock.
I awoke, starting another day as usual, feeling run-down as usual, and having nothing to drink as usual. She, however, showed another phenomenon in the city, which was general hygiene. She pulled a ragged brush through her dark ashy hair, and I failed to see the point. I couldn't help staring. As she stared blankly at the concrete wall on the side of our shelter, she looked at me, with her signature "what, haven't you seen any of this before" face. The truth was, I hadn't. At least, not in this life. I resumed tying my hole-ridden boots.
Water was one of the most challenging aspects of life in the city. The only water sources that remained were dirty city water and underground aquifers. The latter was a much more dangerous, but more healthy (if that makes sense) choice. Today, that was our target. With the sewer system ruined, collapses, holes, and hollow ground became the norm.
Rhode jogged ahead, which was unusual. Usually, she stayed behind, watching our back. Her eyes seemed to penetrate everything, and you can see it in her dark eyes, the wariness, the acknowlegment of the surrounding ruins. I fell to a stop near the manhole, crouching by the iron disk that covered it. I'd found this hole long ago, and I had it marked with a shred of pink shirt. It was the fastest and safest route by far, and my survival depended on it.
She moved by me, keeping on ahead, missing the hole. "Rhode!" I barked. She darted quickly around. "Here", I said. I could feel Rhode's embarassment, and it was so confusing, why anyone could care about that. I pulled the manhole cover off with the nearby tire iron. The fact that she missed the hole reassured me about it's inconspicuous nature. It was a hidden place; I was sure of it. Rhode lead herself in first. I couldn't shake the impression she was trying to prove her worth. She was more valuable than anything I'd ever had.
Rhode gave me something to live for. Not just empty survival, alone, but with another person to impress and insult and bicker with. Life had felt so pointless alone. Staying alive for no other reason but to fulfill instinctual goals. That emptiness was filled by that other person. It made me feel like I had a future, that things could get better.
I held my breath, anticipating the awful smell of the underground, and descended. Rhode had already struck a glowstick, the pale light barely illuminating the tunnel. She looked tense and ready, as always. There was a wierd sense of domination as I strode lesiurely down the crumbled sewerway. This tunnel had always been familiar - it's molded, crumbling concrete walls a cozy reminder of the relatively fresh water that awaited. I liked to think of it as waiting in line at the water fountain. Then again, I liked to think of everything in this new world as something else. I hated it.
The recent rain had seeped into the passageway. The ground is unbearably slick, and had rotated a full 10 degrees when the earth shifted. It was like walking on a Pam'd frying pan held at a 45 degree angle. Any sealing or insulation had long since failed, so the newly wet 15 year old waste flowed freely. Rhode had a feeling of disgust about her, I could tell. Or maybe it was happiness, as it was harder than usual to see her emotion in the dark. "There is pure water...here?" Rhode said, holding back gags. "Last time I checked." I was silent. Such a natural and quick response felt awkward, ironically.
Finally, the putrid and slick tunnels led to the spring - a pool where ruptured water lines supported a small body of water. Easily the cleanest water I've seen, the water was almost pure. Still, a small pinch of my dwindling water tablets (now, it was crushed into a near fine powder) had to be popped into each bottle. We began to scoop the water into milk jugs and water bottles, and setting them aside. Rhode was a bandit, scooping up the water as if it were stolen loot. I severely doubted she hadn't seen as much in one place before.
"I am a GREAT person!" Rhode and I froze. I slowly turned around, setting down my water jug and pulling down my rifle. Rhode didn't hesitate to smash the glowstick into the ground, extinguishing it. "I am so charming, and attractive. Damn, I get the... I... I get the ladies! More ass than a toilet sea... seat!" It was a man. Not a man, but maybe a human, a Scavenger. His voice was so rough and broken. He followed us.
Rhode tensed. Waves of panic echoed everywhere. The wet footsteps of the man slowed. A disturbing, loud laugh blasted from the darkness. His eyes could see through this ink, his senses heightened past a regular man. "My pretty little leaves…" Somehow, I could feel the primal man rushing at me, and I rolled silently to the left.
"I love… my sweet lovel….lovely…" I gripped my rifle; my knees shaking. The distinct scratching flare of a match lit up. "Pasty pasta! Oh, boy, my pasty pasta…" A searing heat filled the chamber, a stream of flaming aerosol through the moist air.
The degenerate was engulfed in flames, the hot fire licking up his ragged clothes. He just stood there. He didn't claw at the air or scream, but stood there, burning alive. He finally collapsed, the clammy flesh making a dull slap on the moist concrete. Rhode was still standing there, holding the smoldering match still. I watched her. I hadn't felt scared in so long. Everything before seemed so much fiction, but here was someone who would miss me, and vice versa, or at least would notice and feel my death. She held the spray can with slightly trembling hands. I unsheathed the cutiron and brought it upon the degenerate with a sickening crunch, in case. Stupid as they may be, they had the cognitive capacity to play dead and strike the unwary. I made a hand gesture, "lets go", it said, I beleive.
