America in catastrophe

Chapter 20

Death scares me, although I'm not sure why; it's the sun in a room full of windows; the smell of fresh paints; the rumble of the open road; and the smell of leather and smoke. It's a dream, it is love.

The first breath to pass over my lips is life, hateful and ancient.

It crackles in my chest, draws out the suffering that ripples across my body.

Everything sighs, draws out one last blissful moment of death. And then violence rushes in.

A moan escapes me, pulling my bones tight.

"Wha- shade!" A hand on my forehead, the brush of fingertips across my throat.

My eyelids are stuck, sealed closed by god knows what.

I reach up to wipe it away.

"Easy, here." A cloth is pressed into my fingers.

The first pass scrapes, and pulls until finally I dare crack them open.

I blink up at the blurry wooden ceiling. Blink back tears as cold punches up my legs like electricity.

I press my head backwards into the ground a heavy groan, squirming under my skin. I clamp my eyes shut again.

"It's okay, deep breath." Maggie coo's beside me.

"W-wh..." a hiss of air. I pry my eyes open again.

Maggie leans over, taking a cup from Carl who leans over the bench beside me.

"Here, this will help." Maggie tips my head up.

I shake my head, pushing on her arm.

"Whe- where-"

Knives carve into my throat. Each rasp aches.

Maggie pushes the cup towards me again, "it's water. Come on,"

My spine pinches as I lean up enough to take a sip. Cold relief dribbles across my heavy tongue and settles in my stomach.

"Where is Daryl?"

I lay back against the floor. Carl is still leaning over the bench, arms braced against the dark wood. Magic beside me.

Somewhere past my feet I can hear coo's and soft laughter.

"Daryl?" I wheeze.

Maggie brushes my hair off my face. "He's with Rick. He's okay," she reassures bringing the cup close again.

I lean into her and take another sip.

Planting both hands on the ground I push myself up.

"No, no, no. You're staying right there." Maggie pushes me back down with little effort.

I shake my head pinching her wrist. "I need to-" I whisper. I don't know what I need, maybe a gun. Death hurt less. Maybe just to see Daryl. Rick is gone too. I need- I need...

Tears sting as they slide off my cheeks.

"It's okay. It's gonna me okay." Maggie wraps her arms around my head, pressing her nose into my hair.

"Can I sit up... please?" I beg grabbing her arms.

Maggie nods, wiping her glossy eyes. "Okay."

Carl comes around the beach and together they help me sit up, leaning me back against the bench.

It reminds me of a church pew...

I look around again, craning my neck to assess the dark room.

Boarded up windows, and the moldy carpet stretched over crooked stairs. It is a church.