Chapter 6

(Warning! From this point on chapters may include mature content including sex, nudity, and violence)

It's morning when I finally come to. My auburn hair is in my face, matted with tears, ash and blood. I brush it away from my eyes and peer at my surroundings. The sound of rushing water fills the clearing and I realize that I somehow ended up at the banks of the river. The sound makes my mouth feel dry and cracked. It's at this moment when reality takes hold of me and I am drowning once again. A bitter soundless sob tries to escape my throat but I can only wheeze, my body shaking as the loss of my whole world envelopes me. Arms, big and strong pull my body closer. I should stop and access the situation, see whether these strong arms want to hold me or hurt me, but in this moment on never ending despair I can't bring myself to care who the stranger besides me is. I curl into his chest like my life depends on his warmth. He stiffens for a moment, surprised by my touch, then curls himself around me. He needs my comfort almost as much as I need his. We lay there entangled with one another, anchoring each other to the earth, not making a sound. I hear his heart beat a low and steady beat beneath his dark blue hoodie. He smells like the forest, as if it were his home before the world had ended. The sun was high in the sky when he finally spoke. "Dahlia" he hummed and I choke. Last night I thought I'd never hear my name being called ever again. My name. The name my mother gave me the day I was born. Dahlias were her favorite flower. She loved their beautiful soft petals that billowed out, making the flowers look like little ball gowns small enough for fairies to wear. I used to picture the Dahlias in our garden bursting to life and dancing around our heads as the fairies celebrated in the warm summer air. Dahlia is the name she gave me to show how much she cherished me. But now all the Dahlias are dead and burned to ash. And so is she.

Despite the fact that I am more dehydrated than I have ever been in my life, my eyes still managed to water at the sound of my name being whispered. I tilt my head up at his face and am met with the iciest blue eyes I have ever seen. Jason? I asked, confused. I suddenly realized how close his angular face was to my own and jump back. I wince in pain from the movement, a harsh reminder that my ribs are still broken. The pain makes me wretched and I lean further away from him to empty the contents of my stomach. He rushes behind me trying to pull my hair out of my face but he's a second to late. The ends of my hair are now sticky with a fourth substance. "You are hurt" he states cooly. "I think my ribs are broken" I respond flatly wiping vomit from the corner of my mouth. He crouches over me and says "Let me look at your injuries". He moves to lift up my sweatshirt, but I pull away, crossing my arms protectively over my chest. "No" I barked in defiance. I have never been undressed in front of a man before and I had no intention to try it today. "Fine" he snapped "I will just wait until you pass out again from the pain and then I won't need to ask your permission. It's not like it is anything I have any desire to see. I just don't want you to fucking die. Sue me." I sigh in frustration. I hate that he's right. Worse, I hate that I need him to help me. Just my luck that the only other survivor of the apocalypse is my least favorite person in the entire town of Blue Rivers. I don't have to look up to know he's smirking in triumph as I hesitantly lift my sweatshirt, revealing my body for the world to see. It was nighttime when I left the house, so all I had on were my beat up old sweatshirt, my fleece pajama pants and my tennis shoes. I pull the sweatshirt up, trying to cover my bare breasts, and turn my head away, not wanting to meet his eyes as he comes closer to inspect my injury. Goosebumps cover my skin and I shiver, my body not used to this much exposure. His hands brush lightly against the dark purple skin on my right side. A monstrous bruise stretches from my armpit to my hip bone. In addition I have small cuts on my arms, legs and face from shards of glass and debris that the blasts sent flying at me. His finger lightly prodded each of the ribs on my right side. When he pressed over the two broken ribs I jumped, dropping the sweatshirt that was keeping me decent. For a moment my right breast was exposed right near his face and I squeaked in horror, scrambling to right myself. He scoffed but had the grace not to comment on my embarrassment. Though I didn't have a mirror, I was sure my face was scarlet. As though confirming something he said " Only two broken ribs and no internal bleeding. You are lucky to be alive." "How do you know that?" I responded, curious about where he learned how to diagnose such things. Bitterly he said "I've had my ribs broken enough times to know". Silence. It is obvious he doesn't want to talk about it or his past, but I make a note to ask him about it later. If we are still alive that is. "Come on. I know a place where we can rest for a while" he barked. I tried to stand up but I stumbled almost crumpling to the ground if Jason hadn't grab my left arm to hold me upright. "I guess I'll have to carry you again" he says as if I am another chore he has to complete. "Wait!" I shout "I'm not wearing my shirt and I don't even know where we are going!" "We are going to the caves in the side of the mountain. It will be safe from AI drones there as they are programmed not to attack natural formations." He replied curtly. "As for your sweatshirt, I don't care if it's on or off. Though I can imagine putting it back on by your self would be excruciating given the state of your ribs". I looked up at his face and his facial expressions remains stern and business like, though I can see the mischievous smile behind his eyes. I sigh in defeat, too tired and miserable to argue further. I wrap my sweatshirt around my chest like a strapless bra and tie the ends tight so it won't fall. The tops of my breast still peak out of the top of my make shift bra but it can't be helped. "Bring me over to the river so I can have a drink before we go". He rolled up his cargo pants to his knees and I do the same to my sweat pants. He lifts me in his arms like I weigh nothing and brings me to the water. I use my hands to cup gulp fills of cool water into my mouth. I know I should boil or filter the water from the river like my father taught me, but right now I'm desperate. The end of the world is draining, and I feel like I have had a sip of water in weeks. After I drink as much water as I think is safe I splash the cool water in my face and in my hair trying desperately trying to cleanse my body of the grime that marks the horrors of the last 48 hours. "Don't worry about washing yourself, we will figure that out once we get there." He scoffs impatient. I shudder when I think about how I will not be able to bath without his help. He lifts me once again in his arms, this time being careful not to press on my broken ribs. I look back at the river that has always been a marker of home in Blue Rivers, as he carries me away.