Things are tuff but we have been pushing through. We gave those Herculeans a scare a few days back. I’ve even killed a few myself. They’re definitely ugly and scary. Thank god they have no idea of Earth yet. I am glad to hear you are becoming a sophomore. I am told all adults have to do basic military training now since these Herc’s invaded. Well that sucks, so don’t hurry and finish high school anytime soon. Miss you, and tell mom and dad I miss them too.
I select send and place the tablet back onto its table. I lay my head against the pillow, letting my body rest for a moment. I then run to the bathroom, and open my stash. Only enough for one visit from Cloud, and some Buzz—why do I even have these? I only take small doses, but I’ve had to take more recently, and shit, it’s almost all gone. The syringe is in my hand and scouting my vein… and I remember what I really am. I just said it! I need to stop. I need to. The vein has an ugly infectious bump. I need to stop. The needle tip cuts away at the scab. I need to stop. A trickle of blood runs down my forearm. I need to stop. The needle pokes inside the vein. I need to stop. With trembling hands I push down on the plunger. I need to stop. I need—I greet Cloud for what could be the last time.
There you go my little warrior. There you go.
Why do I even doubt you, Cloud? My body rests against a low bench in the bathroom. I am a cloud. My problems lie beneath me, on this destroyed earth, but I float on by above, free, alive. I’ll need more, won’t I? Clouds don’t last forever.
My hand glances a wad of paper inside my pocket as I squish away the stash. I take it out. It’s the paper with that poem game. It’s also my turn. I look at the last word, Sensibilities—damn, that’s a bitch. I lean against the sink bar. What should I write Cloud?
Senseless entrances, negate sincere intentions by instigating loathed indifference to idealistic endeavors, suddenly,
I have no idea what this means, but if you say so Cloud. I fold the paper and place it inside my pocket to give to Isaac latter. I meet the others in the lobby, and we leave on our tour of Nova Carthago.
Shit, I rub my hands across my forehead. I can feel Cloud leaving. I look at the clock on the bus. It’s already been two hours? The bus reaches downtown towards the last part of our tour. I’ll be alright, you’ll be alright Peter. I look back out the window at the beautiful unmolested architecture of the city streets. This city is famous for its whitewash stone design. Almost every building is constructed with huge stone blocks bleached to glisten in the sunlight: a Constantinople-esque city with modern amenities. It’s strange, how radically different Jericho, with its destroyed skyscrapers and streets littered with debris and shell holes, is compared to here. It’s like a whole other world this city, that I might as well have been back on Earth with the lack of war present.
Hanging banners and streetlamps decorate and light up the streets and buildings as civilians walk about, and traffic goes on as normal. Not a single scream or screeching shell exploding anywhere.
At Historic Square, the conductor educates us that this is the first developed area of the city’s humble beginnings. I look through the side window at a café terrace. The majority of the seats are occupied with women, most of them in a type of uniform too. One particular girl steals my attention. She has long brown hair tied into a bob, laughing as another lady talks intently to her while throwing her hands about in the air with gestures.
“I always liked a woman in uniform,” says Alex next to me, chewing on a stick of jerky.
“They sure are some hot babes,” says Isaac.
I continue to stare at that one woman. Isaac nudges me, “I see you already found yourself a girl?”
I break away from my spell. “What? Oh no, yeah they really are hot, like you said.”
“You sure are a lady’s man with your elegant talk.” Isaac stares at the girl I was eyeing one more time. “She is a dime, get out and talk to her.”
A rush of anxiety breaks through my calm mind. I really need another—fuck I’m all out. “Hell no, I’d, I would miss the tour.”
The others continued to pester me. Isaac goes to the conductor and convinces him to stop. He comes back to me, “Get out heartbreaker!”
I lean in close to confront him, whispering, “What the fuck are you doing?”
“C’mon, you only have one more day before you probably get killed in a trench and forgotten. Carpe diem!”
The unit continues to urge me on. Other passengers begin looking back at me to see what the hold up with the bus is about. “Shit, okay,” I get up and move down the aisle to the door. “Are you guys coming? There’s more girls for all of you.” I remember the paper and hand it towards Isaac for him to grab.
Isaac steps out onto the street with me while grabbing the paper, and then hops back on quickly as the bus pulls away. “No way, I would miss the tour!”
“Asshole.” I look over at the café. It’s across the intersection. The women are still there, and that one lady who captivated me still talking and laughing, oblivious that I even exist. I go through every known exercise to calm my mind and heart rate. Worry about Cloud latter, this could be my only chance. I start walking, weakly repeating the line. “Carpe diem, I guess.”
I reach the intersection, the outdoor seating of the café only meters away on the other side. The light turns signaling that the crosswalk can be used. But as if there is an invisible brick wall before me, I cannot take another step forward, and instead I stand where the sidewalk ends, gazing at the girl. The light turns red.
Next time I’ll cross.
Again the light signals to cross, and again I stay solidified where the sidewalk ends. Eventually I turn around, sitting at the steps to a building behind me, and stare at that beautiful girl with her amazing simile. I pull out an ancient that Isaac gave me and light it with some matches we found back at base, taking drags as my eyes remain locked onto her.
Maybe if Cloud was with me I could do it.
I follow every move of her at the table as she talks to her friends. Something infatuates me about her. It’s not instant love like in those cheesy romances. I know nothing of her after all. There’s just something about her that intrigues me. Beautiful—when was the last time I saw something beautiful? The photo unnerves me—it was beautiful.
Humans can make huge cities, then tear them down. But that one amazing ability we have is reproducing the human body. Her smooth pure flesh. Something that takes no planning from an architect or government official. And yet, we can pervert it still. My rifle can destroy it like the city. Turn the flesh into yellow lumps of gore. Why do we do this? But something about it all also fixates me. I too can become a yellow lump of gore. Any of us can. The beautiful and average, the ugly. We can all become the same thing. Reduced to the most common denominator: yellow rotting lumps. War is an equalizer. Whether the end sum is desirable is open to opinion.
It must have been over ten minutes till she finally rose and left the café. She moves to the cross section that would lead her towards me. Shit. She can’t see me. I put my head down, and twiddle with another ancient, while staring at the thousands of pairs of shoes and boots that pass me. I never saw what she was wearing. She could be any of them.
Numerous pairs of shoes go up and down the steps, each passing pair coming too close for comfort. “Why, I haven’t seen an old fashioned cigarette like that for ages,” says a lady’s voice above me. “Do you have an extra I could try? Or you busy rolling it around?”