Faith Is Unavailable

Sands sat on a table in the corner of the room just listening to Dr Death Defying broadcast lost in thought. Her eyes remained on him thinking of anything but what was going on in this room.

He was off for a moment. He had a track playing.

“Dr Death, war time isn’t the time to fall in love right?” Her voice was soft, thoughtful. This was something that always weighed on her mind.

He spun toward her shocked, this was something he hadn’t expected on the coldest day in hell. He knew it wasn’t him she was talking about -he wished it could be- or she wouldn’t be saying it to it to him. “Well, well, well, Sands reveals it all tonight, huh?”

She looked at him a faux glare. “Dr. D, let a girl sound like a girl for a minute.”

He chuckled, “My apologizes, darlin’ but it has been an interesting day. What were you saying?”

“How can any of us even think about love in these times?” She said with a light sigh. “Kobra Kid had that girl before I came about, we all see the way Jet looks at 12, how do they do it?”

He let out a sigh himself, leaned back in the chair. “It’s not their doing Sands, you obviously know it’s not something you choose. Everybody knows this is a bad time.” He spoke the last words softer looking toward his hands remembering his own love.

“I can’t accept that it’s out of my control,” She said stubbornly.

He laughed again. “And you’re back.”

She lightly smiled gazing off to the ceiling, lost in thought. “Why do people do it Dr D? Just accept there’s no control to be had by them. It’s our lives and yet there are some unknown forces pushing us into totally bullshit mung situations.”

“It seems like it’s all bad kid but bitchin’ things have come from bad shit. You for example, came from crazy bastard Korse.” He spoke in his way.

“Hardly, I’m my mother’s daughter to a fault.” She spoke softly.

“We’ve all heard the random Scottish accent Sands.” He joked just in hopes of clearing up the somberness.

She chuckled. “He did raise me. You guys ever notice me cussing in French?”

He looked a little surprised, “No evidently all swearing sounds the same coming from you Silver Sands. Your mother French?”

“Yep. It’s a weird combination right?” She said still slightly amused.

“Not quite as weird as you, Love Child.”

Again she just chuckled and conceded to the fact. Nothing was as weird as Silver Sands. She knew it to be fact and embraced it fully.

“Sands, all we do is keep runnin’ these days. It’s hard to imagine taking another path but, this is the only thing that you can’t run from.” It struck him to say it. He couldn’t hold his tongue. If he could he wouldn’t be the radio personality that he was. “No matter where you go that heartache follows you like your shadow. Keep that in mind.”

The song ended and he was back to the listeners. Leaving Sands with nothing but the never ending whirlpool of thoughts.

She fell asleep in the corner of the office that night. She didn’t want to have to deal with trying to decide who looked like they wouldn’t get up from any mattress she tried to lay her head on.

***

Sands always did what she wasn’t supposed to. It was a given. She wasn’t supposed to go out on her own. She wasn’t supposed to just stop and hang out in random houses in the zones. And so far as the guys had her figured, she wasn’t supposed to cry.

Yet, she was sitting in the middle of the only house for miles, on the completely unscathed living room floor crying.

The house in it’s entirety was probably just the same as it was before the war minus the damage to the facade. It reminded her of her childhood home, from when the world was okay. When her father was off at work in his lab and it was her mother that was home with her and Tori.

“Mon doux amour peu,” The soft voice spoke in a velvety French. Her accent was non-existent except when she spoke in her native tongue. “What are you doing?” The woman sat next to her daughter on the floor.

“Playing with my dolls.” The girl slid over letting her mother have a better view. She’d propped them up in chairs or laid them out on the little beds. “That’s the mommy, the daddy, and their three daughters.”

“Why are the girls all upstairs in their beds?” Perfectly faked mother’s curiosity.

“It’s nap time.”

She laughed at the factual way her little Sandra spoke then pulled the little girl into her lap and began running her graceful fingers through the long blonde locks. “What do you want to be when you grow up, ma douce.” She only wondered what went through Sandra’s head when she didn’t ask. The girl was always vocal.

“Just like you.”

Sands sat crying in the house thinking she was alone.

She’d been to this house several times, it was another old house -although it’s been renovated and modernized shortly before the rational world ended- with a bomb shelter. Whomever lived there before kept it stocked as well. Every time she came back from this house she brought back at least a pack full of supplies. It made everyone shut up faster than coming home empty handed.

“You never stop surprising me Sands.” The light Jersey rasp she knew far too well spoke with extra tenderness.

Her head snapped up to see the bright haired man leaning up against the entry way wall. Quickly her hands were wiping at her tears.

“What’re you doin’ here?” She asked quickly in a low voice.

“You mean how’d I find ya?” He asked joking in his gentle voice. “I’m getting better at tailing people. The Trans-Am’s quieter than the bikes too.” Everything inside him told him to walk over sit next to her and pull her into his arms. He didn’t, this was Silver Sands he had to wait for her to want to be consoled or he wouldn’t be able to help her at all.

“Why do you do that?” She laughed a little in her tears.

“Somebody’s got to have your back. No matter how little you want us tools behind ya.”

She chuckled again. Thinking of a better time -no matter how it made her miss her mother- left her spirits in better shape than when she was caked in blood and dirt dwelling on the war at their door.

“Sands what’s wrong?” He dropped his voice even more only hoping she’d actually divulge.

“This house looks just like the house I grew up in.” She explained softly.

His eyes roamed the room they were in, making an extreme effort to not comment on how amazing it was that the place was still standing let alone be in the excellent condition it was in.

“Before things changed. Before we were living in a place that resembled a hospital lab where he was trying to manufacture something to save her. To make all humanity perfect.”

His curiousity was sparked. “‘Save her, your mom?”

“Yep.” She didn’t want to go farther. She couldn’t let him know the whole story. That would put him far too close. “I could just see us here. It’s like the ghost of Christmas past that’s come back to haunt me.” She paused again as she felt two fresh tears make the journey down her cheek. “All I want is the future to know a life that isn’t this war. I don’t know what I’ll do when the war is over but I want someone to live a life like the one I have only the vaguest recollection of.”

“Why don’t you know what you’ll do? You will have the option to live whatever life you’d want.” He spoke hopefully as he finally crossed the room to lean against the couch next to her.

“I don’t know any other life Poison.” She sighed. “When the kids in your classes were learning about the basic concepts of the color wheel I was learning how to slowly manipulate the world into my power. Which isn’t quite as marketable a skill as some would think.”

He chuckled. “There’s still hope for you Sands.”

Her grey eyes got intense and locked with his hazel ones, she noted how green they looked right then, “The only hope for me is you, Poison.”

This was a confession of her strange Silver Sands exclusive sort of feelings and he was floored. He ran his index finger along her chin. “How is that?” He asked in his softest Jersey rasp.

“You’re my only hope for anything even remotely human in me to make it out alive.” Then her hand went up to cup his lightly stubble dusted cheek and brought his lips to hers.

They knew where that kiss would take them; this time it was Poison that decided to change locations. He broke the kiss but not the eye contact even as he stood to his full height before sweeping her up in his arms bridal style and figuring out where the bedroom was. He sat her on the bed gently and reconnected their lips as he climbed over her.

It was like they lived in the rational world before it all ended. Two lovers in a bedroom making love. Something that was once boring, “vanilla” when the world was whole. Now it was like a beautiful rarity. Maybe it was because of that, maybe it was Sands’ little confession -who knows- but this time the kisses were deeper, every touch made to linger, and the clothing peeled off slowly. Somehow almost reverently fucking this time. If you can honestly fuck reverently.

It took him back in time and left him feeling more elated than he knew was possible. Sandra confessed her feelings in her way and he knew he wasn’t alone in feeling and he got to pretend everything was right in the world.

***

Dr Death Defying was coming in from his other location built in what used to be some old house’s bomb shelter. The house no longer stood but the entrance to the bomb shelter was still manageable. They cemented over the stairs turning them into a ramp for him. It was in the middle of one of the zones where the exterminators seemed to be spending more time.

He radioed back to the diner telling everyone that he and Show Pony were going to need help.

Everyone -except Kobra and Ghoul who’d been on the night shift- was standing around anxiously waiting for them to come back. They didn’t know what would require their help.

They heard tires ripping through the solid dirt and the sound of Dr D’s van’s horn.

The whole crowd ran out to see Dr D throwing the side door open right as he saw them he started shouting out orders too.

“Poison, Jet grab this girl! 12 clear off a table! Sands grab my medical supplies!” As he threw out their jobs they got down to it.

The girl’s left leg was in really bad shape.

He had his brace on so he could step out of the van before pulling his chair out of the back. His leg ached because of how long he’d already been on it. “We need to work fast if we’re gonna fix her up well enough to keep her from losing any function. We don’t need anymore rebels in chairs.” He sounded more serious than they’d heard in a hot minute. He didn’t want anyone to be stuck in a chair on the sidelines of this fight like he was.

The girl was laid out on the table they’d gotten ready for her and they were moving another table over for Sands to put Dr Death’s medical stuff on.

He rolled in all the way to the table hauling himself up and putting his bad leg down gently. “Give me some room.”

Sands turned looked at Party Poison and spoke loud enough for 12 to hear her too. “Another motherfucking rescue.” Before walking out the door to the post on the roof she was supposed to be at.

Party Poison excused himself to follow after her telling them to call him down once Dr D was done with whatever he was doing to fix up the girl.

“Why do you do that?” He asked frustrated as his boots hit the roof.

“What?” She asked sitting herself on top of the a/c unit after putting her jacket on it to protect herself from the heat.

“Say things like that just for 12 to hear? I know you well enough to know no rebel tumbleweed is on your shit list except for 12.” Poison huffed hotly. “I know you don’t trust her but everyone else does so just keep it to yourself.”

There was a brief flash of hurt that went across her face making way for anger to fill it’s place. “You, of all people, trust her over me. Maybe she’ll invite you up to the attic next time, Dickbreath.”

Fury filled his face too. “Sands, everybody can’t tiptoe around you’re bitchy attitude anymore. Figure out how to act like a normal human being for five minutes! I know Korse never taught his kids that but give it a shot!”

She gave him a look that could kill. He of all people threw out her ‘father’ card like she was as unfeeling as him. “If I didn’t loathe everything my father stood for this would be the moment I rejoined him. Just so you could see what it would be like to have me on the other side. All of you should thank your lucky fucking stars! You know the Scarecrows? The rougher tougher exterminators? I trained the first of ‘em! I was a kid training soldiers! I’ve been in this war before I even knew what it was! When you were still coddling those fucking dead kids who thought a paint brush would save their lives!”

It wasn’t too often that Sands surprised Party Poison but after this one you could have knocked him over with a feather. “You’re one cold bitch Silver Sands.” He was to the point he couldn’t even yell anymore. “I really hope Girl starts taking more after 12. She deserves to know emotions.”

His words were spoken softer but Sands still felt like she was kicked in the diaphragm forcing all the air from her lungs. She never knew Poison to say anything that was downright cruel. It was like a below-the-belt hit that was never anticipated.

She just watched him as he made his way back down the ladder trying to think how he could have ever felt for her. This had to have been the end of the world, he was certain. No way could this have been a girl he felt anything for before the end of days.

She got off her jacket and went into the pocket lining and pulled out her cigarettes. She rationed them. Good old cancer causing cigarettes were hard to come by and she hated Better Living Industries “healthy” cigs. She need the poison to flood into her lungs clouding them more and more with every inhale.

Party Poison walked back into the diner to see Dr D building a makeshift brace -much like the one he was wearing at the time- around this girl’s leg.

“Status report Dr?” Poison asked trying not to let anyone see the duress he’d endured on the roof.

“I think she’s gonna be able to use it, the brace is just to support it while it heals up.” He said still completely focused on his mission at hand.

“How long has she been unconscious?” He asked getting to the edge of the table to watch all that seemed to be going on.

“Since she got to me and I drugged ‘er up.” He said simply but knowing he’d have to elaborate. “She was in a lot of pain and I knew I’d have to do something serious. I didn’t have anything I needed at The Hole so I had to bring her here. I knew she’d be miserable the whole ride so what I had, I used.”

Party Poison just nodded.

“When should she wake up?” Fun Ghoul asked from the spot he took after coming down from the attic hearing all the ruckus perched up on the back of a chair, feet planted on the seat facing the new girl. A greater part of the reason he’d come downstairs was because he knew it’d annoy Kobra Kid when he open the door out of the attic to come down letting light fill the room and disrupt Kobra’s sleep.

Now he was just stuck to that chair watching Dr Death Defying’s every move finding some emotional investment to the blue haired girl’s welfare. His mind couldn’t help but keep going back to the fact he found her very pretty. He also couldn’t keep from his mind from reminding him this was no place for falling in love. A problem everybody seemed to have.

He watched the way their perfect little nurse, Girl, gently wiped her face off with a damp rag.
Yet he was unmoving, just focused on her face.

Party Poison picked up the woman’s jacket that had been brought in by Show Pony and sat near her. “Do you know where she’s from?” He asked as he studied the ornate black jacket wondering what all the stars meant.

“From what she told me her and her crew were typical tumbleweeds staying within the third to fifth zones. With the increased numbers of Dracs she’s the only survivor of her pack. I didn’t get the whole story.” He said still not looking up from his work.

“She’s waking up!” Girl announced as the woman’s eyes fluttered.

Dr D looked up to the woman’s face. “Get her a glass of water. The meds cause dry mouth. Her mouth is gonna feel like a desert when she wakes up and judging by what I already know of her she’s gonna have a lot to say.”

With that Girl was running off toward their supply of fresh water.

Fun Ghoul had leaned up on the chair interested for the woman to open her eyes and even possibly speak.

12 nudged him. Being a girl gave her a keener perception of what was going through his mind. “Fungal has a crush.” She teased.

He rolled his eyes trying not to reveal his hand. “I haven’t even heard the girl speak.”

12 and Jet-Star chuckled exchanged a quick meaning-filled look as he grabbed her hand.
“That don’t mean a thing.”

Ghoul visibly cringed for effect. “Gross.”

Silver Sands was still on the roof actually hating being alone for the first time in a very long time. She didn’t want to be left alone to her thoughts. She knew these people were the only people she’d even go so far as to call her family anymore and slowly she was pushing them all away. She'd been trying so hard to stop pushing but she just couldn't stop. She tangled her hands into her hair not worrying about the cigarette hanging between her fingers in her right hand.

It was the third she’d smoked in a row.

“Silver Sands!” Her favorite little voice was shouting up to her again as she appeared up over the edge. “The girl’s awake! Her name’s Star Killa and she talks like me!”

Sands couldn’t help but laugh as she dropped her hands. She knew by “like me” she meant a lot. “She’s not very happy though.”

Sands patted the spot to the ground that she’d moved to after pulling her cig out next to her. “She got the morbs?”

Girl just shook her head making her pretty little curls bounce like mad. “Yeah, she said her family got dusted in a Drac attack. She’s the only one that made it out.”

Sands now just nodded with understanding. This wasn’t a new story by any stretch of the imagination. Everyone still roaming the desert had probably lost a family. Poison and Kobra were two of the only people she knew of that had been together since the war. Fun Ghoul had been a part of a different killjoy family quite closely linked with the brothers’ as they’d always known each other but they were all dusted now. Just like Jet’s first family. Girl. They didn’t even want to know. If Girl remembered it she’d never revealed it.

Sands mind just ran. Thinking about Party Poison. She’d been called a cold bitch more times than she could even begin to imagine but this time it stung. Maybe she’d got just a little bit of frost bite.

***

Sands had the man who'd been giving her the cold shoulder as a captive audience finally on their night watch the next day.

Poison refused to even let his eyes linger on the light haired woman he'd called cold. Ignoring her was the best chance of moving beyond his foolish feelings for her. He dropped himself into one of the lawn chairs that had been scavenged to make the watches a little less miserable eyes glued to the dark endless horizon. Morning was all he was waiting for.

Sands put herself to his right, standing in front of the second chair arms crossed. "I remember my first few months as a rebel." She spoke softly. She'd never told this story before.

This sparked him. Significant statement it was that she was opening up without something forcing her to. She was going to tell him the part of her life she really believed defined her.

"I was hopelessly roaming in stolen clothes because I knew I'd have a lot more trouble finding people who'd trust me in my uniform. The only thing I still really have from my old life is my raygun."

"But the BL/ind rayguns are all white." He said with out really intending to interrupt.

Her hand gently traced the gun. "Korse gave me anything I wanted. I reminded him of my mother it eased everything inside himself that missed her to make me happy. I love the shine of silver so he gave this to me and said it would show me as someone who ranked high enough to be different."

"So you lived the life of getting everything you ever wanted to the life of scavenging to find anything you need?" She couldn't tell if he was warming to her or not.

"As I got older I started to realize what I was doing. What Korse stood for. I realized it was everything my mother told me too avoid. I had to leave. Objects, people, all those things were irrelevant. I hated how cold, sterile, and dehumanizing that world was." She spoke honestly. "You might have trouble believing that."

He knew she meant, "You think I'm a fucking Ice Queen but give me some fucking credit I'm doing my best."

"My mentor Crash Couture was a punk rock fashion designer with a harsh New York accent who taught me to be a rebel."

Silver Sands was stumbling around the desert in shoes a size too big partly living out of that house in zone 2.

She was adorned in some denim shorts that would barely stay up and the brightest top she could find as she knew that to be a rebel trademark. It was big enough to hang off her shoulders slightly. All she knew was it was better than the white outfit that would have all the rebels shooting at her.

All she knew how to do on this side of the war was fight. Luckily that was all she needed.

As she stumbled through the desert, just searching for a fight. She found one.

A rail thin woman with faded pink hair and light brown roots was back down on the desert ground knees pulled up surrounded by 4 dracs.

Sands had perfect cover behind some half gone building. Plus the dracs had their backs to her. She saw the girl’s pink raygun right behind the dracs.

Speed and silence were essential here. Sands crept from her spot shedding the large shoes that would just awkwardly thunk against the baked desert giving her away walking on her toes.

The rebel saw her doing everything in her power not to give anything away to the dracs with her face.

All in her most fluid of movements she grabbed one of the center dracs by the head with on hand, firing at another, and kicking the rebel her gun back. The force she ripped the one’s head to the side almost snapped it’s neck but she wanted to keep her semi-human shield. He’d work better alive.

The rebel snatched up her gun and they shot the other two dracs. As they fell Sands knew it was safe to twist the one in her arms head the rest of the way -despite it’s struggle- slowly until she heard the snap.

“I’ve never seen anybody dust people quite like you.” The woman commented as Sands let the body slip out of her grip to thud against the dirt.

Sands wasn’t necessarily accustomed to the comments that are intended for nothing more than ice breaking. “That was easy. Dracs have bones roughly 25% less dense than yours and mine. Scarecrows are the opposite.”

The woman was standing dusting her elaborately decorated yellow pants looked at Sands like she lost her mind. “You’ve tired that on a Scarecrow?”

“Only once.”

“Where the fuck are you from?” The tall woman asked dramatically. The lanky woman had to stand six foot, she towered over the barefoot Sands by 6 inches.

Sands felt her heart race, she was afraid to say anything right then. She was worried she’d already said too much. Maybe this girl had already made her for someone out of Battery City. Hell, the rebels always seemed to have great intel! Maybe they knew Korse had daughters. What if her every word gave her away?

The woman took the look on Sands face as trauma. She should have known better, most rebels had some horror story in their past. “I didn’t mean that literally, doll.” She spoke softly. “Got a name?”

Sands took a mental sigh of relief, her every word would be guarded from that day on so she wouldn’t have that panic again. “Sandra.” The blond spoke finally holstering her gun.

“No.” The other woman said animatedly. “That was the name the old government tracked you by, this new government has their records. From today forth you have to go by something to hide your tracks from big brother. Confuse them as much as you can."

Sands again was left speechless, she didn’t know what to call herself. “What do you refer to yourself as?”

“I’m Crash Couture. Before BL/ind took away freedom of style I designed clothes.” She explained easily. Then she fell back into the mindset of a designer examining Silver Sands’ shabby looking attire. “You’re way too badass to be walking around looking like this.”

The taller woman gestured for Sands to follow her to the paint splattered car only a few yards away. Sands didn’t even bother with the obnoxious shoes.

Crash Couture worked out of an old thrift shop, something that kept her sane. It helped her remember who she really was.

She kept talking to Sands. Sands taking note of everything. She noticed how different the rebel speech pattern was.

“I ain’t the greatest fighter,” the woman said as she sat sketching, having already gotten measurements and an idea of the girl’s frame. “Just good enough with a gun to survive... Most days.”

Sands laughed. “See, fighting is what I do, I’m a great fighter. Not much for this sort of thing. I look a mess!” She was slowly picking up on the way to speak. The abbreviations came easiest. It’d make her blend in more and more as she learned the lingo. “Aren’t we the perfect pair.”

“Like a rebel and their raygun.” She said with a little half smile.

They were.

Crash taught Sands how to be a rebel, in speech, in dress, and in craft, Sands would be able to fix anything on her uniform or even make a new one.

Sands taught Crash to fight. Made sure she could hold her own in hand on hand combat. Plus taught her how to better use her gun. Did everything in her power to make a super lethal rebel.

“Ya know, rebels try so hard to stay away from any color that reminds them too much of white -which silver ranks top in that scale- then there’s you. You sit here with a completely fearless love for silver.” Crash spoke as she held Sands’ gun looking at it from every angle. She was thinking, brainstorming.

Sands knew there was no response needed from her, Crash was just musing to herself.

Crash was sitting behind the counter with her combat boots kicked up on top of the register. Her head was tilted to the left so her three tight braids were facing the ceiling. Sands noticed that was the way Crash always tilted her head. She figured it kept her from having hair covering her face all the time.

“Sandra loves silver.” More of the thought process hit the air. “Silver Sandy. Eww. No. Silver Sands.” Then she smiled. “It’s perfect. You are Silver Sands.”

“That my rebel name?” Sandra asked. “I dig it!”

She was finally a full blown rebel.

“She gave you your rebel name?” Poison asked softly.

“Yep. From that day on Silver Sands and Crash Couture kicked ass together until...” Sands stopped. Party Poison knew the next part of the story.

“The day we met you.” He filled in the blanks. He remembered, it was quite the fight, maybe battle would have been the more correct term.

All the disturbance had the dust flying through the air clouding everyone’s vision.

Their backs collided but with quick glances over the shoulder they realized they were on the same team. They kept at each other’s backs slowly turning ‘round and ‘round firing. Party Poison thought that the blond woman might have needed his help. So he tried to keep track of her over his shoulder.

He was surprised when she was the one that separated from him running right back into the fight again her heel hitting a Drac in the chest.

“Why’d you freak out about leaving the fallen behind?” He asked knowing now was the only time that he’d have a chance at getting answers.

“I didn’t want...” She paused knowing this was when she had to reveal one of the secrets she felt was kept out of kindness. “Dracs die when you take off their masks. Just trust me when I say it’s a last ditch effort.”

He didn’t understand this at all. “Why?”

“When I say you don’t want to know what’s beneath the mask, you have to trust me.” She spoke solemnly.

Silver Sands had been riding with the Killjoys for a few months. The fight haunting her dreams was the worst thing she could dream. She kept seeing Crash getting blasted in the chest again and again.

Sands couldn’t save her this time. It tore her apart. Her first real friend since she was a child was dead.

She was riding out through the zones on a junkie looking bike they were restoring to see if Fun Ghoul had the issue with the motor fixed. She heard the unmistakeable sound of the BL/I motorcycles behind her.

Her bike wasn’t fast enough to outrun them. She knew they weren’t gearing it up for that until they were sure it was worth that sort of trouble.

She muttered a few cusses and mentally prepped for the fight.

She glanced back. At least it was only a few Dracs behind her. Easy enough. She was a more skilled rider than a Drac anyways. Skill was never something a Drac could have been called famous for. They’re damn near fucking zombies.

Their bikes caught up to hers and two came to be at her flanks. She could see their guns were set to “ghost” as the rebels would call it “incapacitate” as those of Battery City would know it.

Pops wanted her back at home.

“I’m not going back!” She shouted as she popped her front tire off the ground putting herself at the perfect angle to kick the one to her right in the throat and off his bike. The one to her left she reached as the bike started to come down and grabbed the top of the mask and ripped it off as the front tire hit the dirt. She was shocked her father only sent two, did he come to doubt her skills now?

Then she looked at the person who was slumping and crashing on the bike whose mask was still clenched in Sands’ fist. Pain cascaded over her in waves, the woman who taught her all there was to the rebel life was falling the bike coming down on top of her.

Her father’s sadism struck her again. ‘How many times does he want you have to watch your friends die?’

This story she still wasn’t ready to share. She never wanted to care for any of the others as much as she had Crash. She didn’t want to feel herself wrecked like she did as she watched that bike come down. Too bad that she wasn’t on the drugs Korse made just for making people devoid of real feelings.