Lollipop

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Emory
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Emory Morris.

She had been sitting on her couch, reading one of the books her boyfriend had and suggested to her when the bombs dropped. Her regulars were romance but since her lover was currently away on a new job and she had nothing to read, she was becoming more open to other genres. She herself has read a couple of books that interest her lover. For example, war, hunting, sometimes survivalist fantasy. Which is what she was reading now.

Her radio muffled on the other side of the living room, scratching a bit before it cut off. She only had assumed that it was nothing but news, conflict from the middle east and raging politics, which she had no care for.

She wasn't sure how she even survived the blast, maybe it was just adrenaline. But recently, almost 10 years later, just after she had started to get herself back onto her feet with scraps and resources, she was forced onto her knees in front of armored men and women. Bike helmets, guns, and power. She should have left already; the house was barely able to stand anymore. Now all her supplies that kept her alive were being taken and she thought she was going to die there.

Until they asked her if she was a problem solver, which gave her an opportunity.

So, she joined them.

Preparing to look for her lover will have to be put on hold.





"Have you gotten anything yet?"

"Nah, a lot of them won't even talk."

The armored male kicked the scavenger on the ground, the pink lit room reflecting off the blood pooled on the ground.

"We need info, now get it." She says, stepping out of the room and pulling down her red face cover. Dark circles hung from her eyes as she heard the door close behind her, the sound of loud blaring music filled her ears. Yelling from across the buildings were muffled, as she unstrapped her gloves, walking through the large storage containers of a hallway, turning a corner to see more highwaymen turning over the place for supplies.

"Rum, you and your group stay here." She says, pulling off her gloves and letting out a sigh. "I'm gonna take a drive."

She hears them laughing, the sound of bottles being thrown as she walks farther away from the outpost. Shoving her gloves in her back pocket, she pulls out her radio to inform Mickey of how much they scavenged. But there was always more, especially in this Valley. Her eyes glance over the hot pink flowers that covered the flat land in the night, her head throbbing a bit. She leans against a car that was halfway dug into the ground, its headlights pointed at the stars, annoyed. They have been in this Valley for a week, and none of the survivors here knew anything about what happened. None that they have come across anyway.

Emory walks over to her truck, covered with pink and blue paint, yellow cages welded to the outside. She starts it up and begins driving, sand blowing from under the tires as she drives along the overgrown road. Eventually she spots what she was looking for.

She pulls over and observes the limp cold body on the side of the road. She lets out a sigh as she drags it through the trees away from the road, stealing their clothing and tossing her colored armor in her truck. Whoever killed the poor soul at least could make headshots, so she wouldn't look any different with blood on her.

She hears her radio crackle, and she fixes the hat on her head.

"Hey little fucker." She says into the device, tying her shoes.

Lost in TimeOnde histórias criam vida. Descubra agora