After the Fall

Book II | Part 8: Sowing Sorrows

"The seeds we found? These?" I lifted the air-sealed baggie containing the five small seeds we'd collected and compared it to what was left of the nearly empty bag of birdseeds. "These seeds came from this bag, and they're probably more seeds scattered around this entire desert."

"Birdseeds, huh?" He shrugged. "Not worth anything anyway. It's not a live plant, after all." After clearing a large area of litter, he sat and pressed his back against the trench wall, and then stared out into the nothingness. "None of it matters."

"Some heroes we turned out to be." I dropped the bags and tossed my hands up. "This is it?"

He scoffed. "We're not heroes. We're not special. We're nothing."

I immediately realized my mistake. "We're probably not heroes in the traditional sense, but we're heroes in our own way." I took a seat beside him and our thighs touched. "You want to know what you did for me?"

I watched out of my periphery as he cocked his head, eying me suspiciously.

"You gave me hope, courage, lifted my spirits. You pushed me, encouraged me, made me smile." A grin curled my lips. "I wouldn't have known any of that if it weren't for you."

"Yeah, well ... for the record, I wouldn't be here if I knew I would end up like this. If anyone's a hero, it's you. You had the balls to willingly walk into this hellhole knowing you wouldn't return, all for the sake of the facility, the survivors, your son. That's a true hero, sacrificing your life for another."

"You knew the dangers of this mission, and you still chose to come out here, risking your life for the facility, the survivors, my son. Is that not the trait of a hero?"

"Okay, okay." He hung his head low. "I get it. Can we stop licking each other's asses now?"

I couldn't hold back my laughter and didn't attempt to. "See? This is what I mean. I salute you, Dr. O'Donnell."

He huffed. "Salute."

It was silent for a while, and during the silence, I imagined us using the time to remember what we were leaving behind, wondering what could have been different, and what we could have done or said in the past that might've changed our present.

I would've hugged Connor more, and told him all the details of Refuge Inc. Not just the stories about the most famous heroes, Adam, Elliot and their dog Titan, but all the things no one wanted to talk about, like the corruption, the deaths, the experiments. I would've told him everything about his mother. Not just how she strived to save hundreds of people within the facility, but why she was no longer around to love and care for him, and who was responsible for that.

With a finger, I tilled a miniature garden, envisioning my workstation and lab. I carved long lines into the sand and after retrieving and tearing into the vacuum-sealed bag, I plopped each of the five seeds into the rows. Patrick's eyes were glued to my garden as I sprinkled sand over top, pretending fresh water rained from my fingertips until I could no longer see the seeds.

"Bright green seedlings will grow, with several baby leaves sprouting from the tip of the strong and healthy stem. It'll bloom toward the sky, absorbing and cleansing all the toxins from the air. Everyone will resurface and live happily ever after."

"What a fantasy." He stared blankly.

I smacked my lips together, trying desperately to moisten them with my parched tongue. What I would give for a chilled pint of brew and a slice of pan pizza. "I need water," I managed.

"I know. Try to keep your mind off of it. The more you think about it, the more you'll want it."

It was too late. It was difficult to keep it off my mind, and even more difficult to ignore my thirst. He must've understood my anguish because he pulled my arm to his lap and laced his fingers through mine. He shot me a quick glance, deciding nothing in particular required his full eye contact.

"Just trying to keep your mind off of thirst."

"Well, you just ruined that attempt, didn't you?" My chuckle quickly turned into a series of coughs as phlegm built up in my airway.

He winced with each cough.

"Sorry." I cleared my throat. "Didn't mean to damage your hearing."

He didn't speak. He just squeezed my hand tighter.

"If the light goes out—"

"Let's not talk about that right now, okay?" His voice trailed off.

Was he trying to be calming and patient in his request? My gaze dropped to his hand entangled with mine. I loosened my grip and slid the pad of my thumb along the ragged scar running lengthwise on his wrist. Ever so gently, I caressed the spot, wanting desperately to take it away and dissolve the painful event that led to it.

The silkiness of the thick, raised scar couldn't distract me from thinking of my predicament had he been successful. I admit, there was no way I could have survived this long without him. How different would things had been if he were never around to be chosen?

I soaked in our desperate attempt at comfort, and trailed my fingertips between the minuscule rows of hair on his arm. His skin would be the last my hands touched, his voice the last I heard, his aching the last I felt. With this knowledge, I took it in, every ounce of emotion, sensation, and experience.

I imagined he gave off a pleasant but rustic scent of sandalwood, and that his perfectly symmetrical face, deep blue eyes, and full lips sent most admirers through a whirlwind of excitement. I bet we shared plenty of similarities too, like sticking to an exercise routine out of habit rather than the need to attract attention, volunteering to do the most disliked jobs to prevent disgruntled feelings among coworkers, or lugging around a heavy heart that easily absorbed the agony radiated from others.

Patrick peered at his wrists. "These scars are accidents. I didn't intend to do it. The problem is I didn't know that until long after I did it."

"Not every question needs an answer," I reminded him.

His fingers clenched mine, and when he looked at me, I sensed the fear in his eyes. Did he feel mine?

He bowed his head and a half-hearted chuckle escaped his lips. "We would've been great buddies back in the facility."

I mimicked his tired laugh. "No, we wouldn't have given each other the time of day."

"It's a shame. I needed a friendship like this years ago."

I nodded. I knew what he meant. We could've aided in each other's healing from the devastation that seemed to surround and follow us. No doubt we would've been great friends. "Now's as good a time as any."

His gaze locked onto mine. In the dim light, I caught a glimpse of the smile around his eyes. No other words were needed.

~~~

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