Gallows Humour | Watty's 2023

The Enemy's Plot

By mid-evening nine bodies in sheets were stacked neatly in the middle of the cul-de-sac and True's loot bag was weighted with a half-decent haul. They'd managed to clear out all the houses while Radio shuffled around in the background doing whatever Radio did. The decision to build a pyre instead of dig the graves meant they had the time to scavenge more and make up for yesterday's denture rip-off.

They finished opening the last of the death room tokens they had found and set it with the others on a square of tinfoil they had pinched into the shape of the plate. A death meal, a remnant of the culture they had been raised in. Laying the plate on the pyre, they plucked their trusty lighter from their right coat pocket. They'd traded a hefty amount for it, much to their chagrin at the time. It even lit when it was windy! Or so the hawker who had sold it to them had claimed, they never lit fires on windy days because they weren't a moron.

Sparking a mellow flame, they appreciated it for a moment before touching it to a corner of a bedsheet. It took slowly. They didn't have any fuel to encourage it, but it would burn fine once it caught. They stood while the flames stretched their tongues over the sheets, letting the heat drag its claws over their skin, letting the light pinch their pupils, letting gusts of heated wind whistle up their bandana and dry their tongue. Radio appeared to their left, silent as always, and just outside of shovel reach. The two of them watched the flames eat the corpses, burn and burn and burn.

The sky was turning dark by the time the fire died and left behind a pile of brittle ash. Chalky white bone dust glowed in places where the embers clung to life. True smoothed their bandana and turned away from the remains. Something—or rather, someone—snagged their sleeve. They jerked away.

"Hands off, ya little creep."

Radio snapped its fingers insistently. True shot it a shut-up glare. It took that as a sign of encouragement, seizing the moment to jab its finger at the shadows across the ash pile. Moving shadows, bobbing towards the cul-de-sac. True frowned, reaching for their shovel. It was early for shadow dwellers.

"Alright, come on," they whispered, reluctantly beckoning for Radio to follow them as they snuck to the nearest house. "Try to be quiet, if you can." Ha, such a funny joke.

At the sunken corner of a dilapidated porch they hunkered down, Radio shrinking in to the shadows behind them. Two silhouettes grew larger and clearer, approaching the cul-de-sac and then the ash pile. They looked vaguely familiar. True's lip curled watching one of the strangers kick the blackened clump of tinfoil, ash puffed into the air. Damn disrespectful assholes.

"Told you I saw fire," the smaller silhouette said, elbowing her partner. True squinted, trying to figure out where they recognized those bodies from.

"Scumbag scavengers," the taller one sneered. The shorter one scanned the cul-de-sac. Just for a second the dying sunlight hit her face and a twist of recognition hit True's stomach. The scavenger couple from the After Market. Except clearly they weren't scavengers. Revulsion twined around the pinch in True's stomach. Fucking Factioneers. They should have known those two were snakes. How had Factioneers slithered into the After Market unnoticed?

"Won't be a problem much longer," the pale one said, rubbing the smaller one's back. "Let's go, we're going to be late."

The pair skirted the ash pile, passing True too close for comfort. True held their breath, only their eyes moving. A faint rustle warned True of Radio slipping out of its hiding spot. It skirted around them and padded after the Factioneers on soft-soled shoes. It hesitated at the edge of the cul-de-sac for a moment, turning back and looking straight at True, as if inviting them to follow, too.

Yeah, right. True hoped it decided to stick with the Factioneers. They were tired of getting spooked by it.

The light had become a narrowing band around the horizon. They hadn't counted on loosing time to hiding from Factioneers and now they didn't have much time to get to a safe place for the night. They'd scouted a place with nice sturdy boards over its windows and heavy-looking doors on their way to the cul-de-sac. If they hurried they might make it before something decided to eat them.