Coming Undone

Chapter 15: Never Looking Back

Dust suspended in the still air glittered like stars as evening light poured into the debris-laced compound through a sand-caked window. The muffled sound of wind and traffic invaded Quixxa's quiet place as she sat on a creaky, lone folding chair next to her backpack, staring ahead and thinking back. The bare concrete of the abandoned recycling center forced every sound to echo, yet it had been quiet for nearly half an hour.

It was just her, and her thoughts.

The shadows on the wall had crept from here to there. The time on her datapad had ticked by. Sever weather notices had shot echoing pings from her pad across the empty floor. And there she sat. Not responding. Not reacting.

Merely remembering.

The lies, the crimes. Long nights wet with blood and tears, short days filled with fire and retribution. Every spent ion casing pinging on the floor was a film she watched over and over, every delivery of something once sacred a painting she dared not see.

And yet, she didn't turn away, she didn't let her eyes fill with tears.

Quixxa was leaned forward, her elbows on her knees, her chin resting on her nested fists, her cold eyes locked ahead as she reviewed yet another memory. One of the last.

As the light of the past flickered like embers in her mind, Quixxa grit her teeth.

That's not me. She thought, her voice cutting. The old is gone. The new is coming. And I will not be the same.

The memory ended, and so did her locked gaze.

Quixxa blinked, and let out her breath.

The new is coming. She thought again. And finally, I can live up to something better than this.

She sat up, starting to stretch. She leaned back, yawning and stretching out her arms, taking in a new breath and rolling her shoulders. She was ready to make another grab at something more than crime. At something more than hiding from the light and scurrying away from a God she wished she could stand to face. She was ready to make Runt proud, not make him protect.

She was ready.

And nothing was going to stand in her way.

Quixxa heard the door of the compund creak open behind her, the sound of the sand storm and combat boots resounding in the compound. She turned around, her eyes landing on Jonah and his team as they hefted dufflebags off their shoulders and adjusted their heavy load of weapons. They were back.

She knew they were on time without checking her datapad.

Jonah approached, and Quixxa remained seated, returning her gaze to the front of the room, to the luminescent industrial window. She leaned against the back of her seat, crossing her arms and sliding her tail around her backpack as Jonah arrived at her side.

Jonah looked around.

"You been sitting here this whole time?" He asked.

"Yeah. It's quiet." Quixxa replied, still sitting.

In her heart, though, she knew that wasn't why she was there.

It wasn't the silence or the emptiness of the old compound that'd driven her there, it was the silence and emptiness in her own soul that had forced her to look inside.

Inside was an emptiness and silence that longed to be filled.

"Well, we've got everything ready Quix. All designated safe zones are clear, we have several viable modes of transport, and as a little bonus, it looks like that sandstorm is picking up speed. Anybody looking for us is gonna have a bad time."