Theophany

BOOM! Headshot. Chunks of nighty brain matter and blood splattered all over the place, mostly landing all over Rain. What was really strange was that look on her face just moments before. No fear, just disgust and acceptance. The woman wanted to die.

Swiping bits of blood and flesh off of her, Rain was marching quickly towards him, “Scope! What the hell are you still doing here?” she said, “You should've gone with Loon.”

He replied sarcastically, “Gee, you're welcome. I just saved your ungrateful ass,” which earned another scathing look from her.

“Either way, don't think I owe you anything, you little turd” she said, walking swiftly in the direction of the hidden motorcycles, one which Loon would've probably taken by now. The time for caution had passed, and they needed to get out of there before anyone or anything else discovered they existed. Sulking, he couldn't help but be disappointed at her reaction. He should've been with Loon and left her to die. But something about the whole situation just rubbed him wrong. He had this gut feeling that if he had left her, he would always regret it for the rest of his life. What did they call this? Ah, a conscience. He'd read that in the database back at the headquarters.

The ride back was mercifully uneventful. Arms around her waist, they rode. The wasteland stretched for miles in front of them. The sun was barely rising and you could see pockets of destroyed buildings and houses. The desolate plain wasn't completely devoid of life. Prickly cacti and other desert plants were found sporadically, and there were bugs and various slithery animals that made their habitats here. There were bigger creatures, like spitters and rogs, whose ancestors closely resembled the old world's domesticated animals. Except, it would be suicide to domesticate these.

At least there would be no fear of nighties here in the broad daylight. Nighties, or the proper term nocturnals, were all forms of creatures, including humans, that didn't die when massive amounts of radiation swept their cities. Instead, various mutations occurred. Among the grotesque physical deformities, they lost the ability to think and reason. It seemed like all they were known for is killing brutally. Thankfully, they hated the sun. Scope had found all this information and more in the underground base's computers. He had figured out how to bypass security codes and now had free reign. Which, as their boss said, 'ain't worth a damn thing out there'.

The sun was high when they got to base and both riders were roasting in their attire. Rain still smelled like crusted blood and Scope, who was so close, wanted to vomit. “Suck it up. I'm not stopping,” she said, simply, after he gagged several times.

Nestled inside an old military compound, the Blood Raiders base was safe from harm. The barricades weren't as impressive looking as their former selves, but it sufficed for a team of twelve misfits in the middle of nowhere. Besides, the wire fences weren't for people, but for anything else more common. In fact, they hadn't seen anyone else in five months.

“Home sweet home,” Scope muttered, as they parked the motorcycle and nodded a greeting to the guards and inhabitants.

“Well, well well,” a familiarly annoying voice from behind said, “You're as hard to kill as them roaches. But damn, you smell dead. Let's go shower together to get that ssstink off of you, just like when you were much younger.”

“Ah, Loon,” Rain, smiled curtly, “Just who I wanted to see. I remember instead of getting an erection, you just grow taller.” and passed by without so much as a second glance.

Scope was left there thinking it wasn't such a waste to save her. However, his position was dangerous right now. Loon was the kind of dick that wouldn't hesitate to try to pick a fight with a boy just to try to assert authority, being technically second in command. This authority though, Rain effectively always manages to break.

“What are you looking at, boy?” Loon had set his eyes on the unconsciously smiling boy, “You think that was funny?” The man was walking slowly towards him, effectively trapping the child. Now, there was no escape. Plenty of people were casually looking, either waiting for the show, or minding their own business altogether.

Scope was a trapped animal, it didn't really matter what he said now. He was so scared he couldn't talk and started shaking, involuntarily. He hated situations like this. The menacing figure picked up a bottle of old whiskey from a wooden table next to Scope and took a swig of it.

“I-I was... I didn't mean...” The boy stuttered, holding his attention on the ground, “I was just...”

“Wuh-wuh-what was that?” Loon mimicked, “Think you're better than me? Just cause you can pull a damn trigger!?”

“What?... no, I-uh...” Scope was panicking, now he could see, looking closer that Loon was a bit drunk.

Without a warning, the bottle came smashing across the boy's head and face. Stunned, he could feel the mixture of alcohol and blood before he felt it. But he had no time to ponder it as Loon's fist connected with his gut, making him taste stomach acid. Doubling over, a boot connected with his ribs and pain shot through him. It's probably broken. He lay on the ground, completely defenseless as Loon kicked him again and again. Head, back, ribs, stomach. Again and again. He couldn't even make out what he was saying anymore. Something about being better than him... And there were some bystanders now, whooping and laughing. Ecstatic at the entertainment.

He could feel himself losing consciousness. The mercy of it made him cry. Home, sweet home.