No One Wants to Die
Chapter two. Only a Matter of Time
Hypnagogia consumed her. She drifted in the outskirts of sleep. Her eyes shut tight as her mind dreamt of distant places. It wasn’t until Dr. Death Defying’s voice over the radio broke through the silence that she realized it was time to get up.
“Look alive, Sunshine.”
The noise tore her away from sleep as she jolted straight up in the air. The voice was foreign, one she did not recognize. It came from the small radio on the coffee table in front of her. Her heart raced, prompting her to push her body off the rigid couch. The events of the previous night flooded her consciousness. She ran all night long until she reached the twilight zone. That was when she stumbled upon the old farmhouse, abandoned for sometime.
She picked up the small radio as the DJ continued to give reports, but she didn’t pay any attention. Turning it off, she placed it back down on the table. Her eyes glanced around what appeared to be the living room. There wasn’t much left of it. She walked about the room, her eyes scanning for anything useful. A broken television slumped on its side with a hole cracked through the screen. The couch she slept on stood adjacent to the television. She glided into the kitchen; the archway connected the two rooms together.
The previous owners left close to nothing behind. Rotten food clung to dusty china. A few cans of food dated back years ago. Anything salvageable, she placed on the coffee table next to the radio. At one point, she found a granola bar. She ate it before moving upstairs and into the first bedroom.
The room belonged to a girl. A vanity table pushed against the wall. Drawers stuck out as if someone ransacked the place before her. The closet doors were made out of cracked mirrors. Through the jagged lines, she caught sight of her disheveled appearance since leaving Battery City. Dirt stained her black pencil dress; the hem tattered and torn. Her amber eyes traveled up to her dusty hair. One of her gauntly hand reached up and into her nest of curls, twirling them around. Her hair was everything when it came to her image at the club; Starlight Roxy, they called her.
She peeled her eyes away and opened the closet. In minutes, she threw together an outfit consisting of distressed overalls and a white shirt stained with grease. It was the best she saw, and perhaps the only pieces of clothing that fit her. She tied a light gray jacket around her waist. She would need it during the nights. Once her outfit came together, she poked her head in the window, and pulled back the white sheer curtain.
Nothing but desert wasteland past the horizon. She figured it would only be a matter of time before they too, discovered this farmhouse. With a new sense of urgency, she headed into the bathroom. She snatched everything in sight, rushing the items downstairs. On her second trip, she discovered a straight razor in the cabinet. Pulling it open, she held the blade to her hair. With each movement of the blade, her hair spiraled down until it fell to the floor. What remained was a choppy mess; her hair hugged the sides of her face. The sharp corners of her jaw visible. She hardly recognized herself.
A smile crept across her face for the first time since coming off the BL/ind pills. If she couldn’t recognize herself, there was no way they’d be able to. She had to get moving again if she wanted to stay out of their grasp. So far, she stood alive on borrowed time.
Swiftly, she pushed everything on the coffee table into a purple backpack, from the cans of food to the remains of a first aid kit. A car pulled up, the engine killed just as she placed the backpack over her shoulders. Her heart skipped a beat; weight lodged in her throat. She stopped breathing, waiting to hear their voices.
“I’m telling you, there won’t be any dracs hauled up in this dump,” spoke one of strange voices. She couldn’t place the voice, but she didn’t dismiss it either. She ducked behind the couch, her head directly under the window. She heard their feet shuffle in the dirt. There was more than one of them.
“Look alive, Sunshine.”
The noise tore her away from sleep as she jolted straight up in the air. The voice was foreign, one she did not recognize. It came from the small radio on the coffee table in front of her. Her heart raced, prompting her to push her body off the rigid couch. The events of the previous night flooded her consciousness. She ran all night long until she reached the twilight zone. That was when she stumbled upon the old farmhouse, abandoned for sometime.
She picked up the small radio as the DJ continued to give reports, but she didn’t pay any attention. Turning it off, she placed it back down on the table. Her eyes glanced around what appeared to be the living room. There wasn’t much left of it. She walked about the room, her eyes scanning for anything useful. A broken television slumped on its side with a hole cracked through the screen. The couch she slept on stood adjacent to the television. She glided into the kitchen; the archway connected the two rooms together.
The previous owners left close to nothing behind. Rotten food clung to dusty china. A few cans of food dated back years ago. Anything salvageable, she placed on the coffee table next to the radio. At one point, she found a granola bar. She ate it before moving upstairs and into the first bedroom.
The room belonged to a girl. A vanity table pushed against the wall. Drawers stuck out as if someone ransacked the place before her. The closet doors were made out of cracked mirrors. Through the jagged lines, she caught sight of her disheveled appearance since leaving Battery City. Dirt stained her black pencil dress; the hem tattered and torn. Her amber eyes traveled up to her dusty hair. One of her gauntly hand reached up and into her nest of curls, twirling them around. Her hair was everything when it came to her image at the club; Starlight Roxy, they called her.
She peeled her eyes away and opened the closet. In minutes, she threw together an outfit consisting of distressed overalls and a white shirt stained with grease. It was the best she saw, and perhaps the only pieces of clothing that fit her. She tied a light gray jacket around her waist. She would need it during the nights. Once her outfit came together, she poked her head in the window, and pulled back the white sheer curtain.
Nothing but desert wasteland past the horizon. She figured it would only be a matter of time before they too, discovered this farmhouse. With a new sense of urgency, she headed into the bathroom. She snatched everything in sight, rushing the items downstairs. On her second trip, she discovered a straight razor in the cabinet. Pulling it open, she held the blade to her hair. With each movement of the blade, her hair spiraled down until it fell to the floor. What remained was a choppy mess; her hair hugged the sides of her face. The sharp corners of her jaw visible. She hardly recognized herself.
A smile crept across her face for the first time since coming off the BL/ind pills. If she couldn’t recognize herself, there was no way they’d be able to. She had to get moving again if she wanted to stay out of their grasp. So far, she stood alive on borrowed time.
Swiftly, she pushed everything on the coffee table into a purple backpack, from the cans of food to the remains of a first aid kit. A car pulled up, the engine killed just as she placed the backpack over her shoulders. Her heart skipped a beat; weight lodged in her throat. She stopped breathing, waiting to hear their voices.
“I’m telling you, there won’t be any dracs hauled up in this dump,” spoke one of strange voices. She couldn’t place the voice, but she didn’t dismiss it either. She ducked behind the couch, her head directly under the window. She heard their feet shuffle in the dirt. There was more than one of them.
♠ ♠ ♠
I'm loving this story, not going to lie. I just love how it's coming together. It's slow, but it'll pick up soon. It's just difficult to write a chapter that deals with only one character and the character doesn't even have a name.Feedback is appreciated. As previously stated, this is my first action/adventure story. Trying really hard not to make it cross over into the land of cheesy or unrealistic.