Romac Ch. 7

Snippy was, as they say, in a pickle.

The huge, salivating beast that stood in front of him was horrifying. Its teeth were the length of his arm, its scales the size of dinner plates, its pupils the size of his hand. Its nostrils flared and a low rumble shook the air.

“Shit . . .” he muttered, backing away slowly. Then he stepped on a plate, sending a clatter of tin cans and other bits of trash sailing towards the bottom. He lost his footing, and crashed down the tower of junk, tumbling down and landing in a pile at the bottom. Sharp pain shot through his arm and when he tried to move his fingers, he found it was impossible. Gathering himself, he stared up at the monster. It started heading down the pile towards him, and he fired a few shots up at it.

The silence was split, shattered, by the fierce roars of the mutant and by the gunfire. The bullets struck the creature in the chest and its forelegs crumpled, sending it plummeting down the pile towards Snippy.

Charles scrambled out of the way, his right arm dangling uselessly beside him, just before the creature dropped onto the pile of trash that he had previously occupied. To be safe, he fired a few bullets into the creature’s head, and its death throes ceased.

More snarls and howls came from the other side of the trash pile, and a few more monster heads peeked over the top, snarling viciously.

Snippy didn’t waste time in sticking around. He turned and bolted, stumbling over broken bicycles and microwaves, metal bits and pieces scrambling away from under his boots.

Aderyn’s head peered over a nearby pile. “Snipster, what—”

Her eyes grew wide at the sight of three giant creatures lumbering towards her, and she turned and ran with Snippy.

Down the rest of the trash pile and across the cement pad they sprinted, kicking cans and bags aside, trying not to trip over their own feet in their haste. Then they reached the fence and Snippy slammed it shut before turning and running after Aderyn.

Eventually, the two of them slowed to a jog, then finally to a walk. Snippy looked down at his arm, which was bent at an awkward angle.

“Damn it,” he muttered, dropping his gun on the ground and ripping off his jacket.

Aderyn stopped. “That doesn’t seem like such a bright idea, Snip—” She was cut off again when she caught sight of his broken arm. It was also badly scraped, and bleeding sluggishly. She let out a breath, with an expression of something that might’ve been admiration. “How’d you get your arm like that?”

“Monsters,” he muttered, pulling a bandage and a sling out of his pocket. “No thanks to you.”

“Hey!” she snapped, brandishing her sword. “I was coming to help!”

“But you didn’t, did you?” he snapped, applying pressure to the injury and wincing. “You talk big, but in an actual life-or-death situation, you bugger out.”

Aderyn watched as he wrapped his arm up, then tried to figure out how to get it into a sling. It was done rather clumsily, considering his right arm was broken and he was trying to repair with his non-dominant hand.

Aderyn sighed and grabbed Snippy’s coat, holding it out to him. “Put this on, then I can help you with your sling.”

His goggles moved, making him look sceptical. “What’s with your shift in attitude?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Take what you can get, Snipster.”

He sighed and pulled his coat on with difficulty, then sat down on the ground, handing Aderyn the sling.

Not sure of what she was doing, she lifted Snippy’s arm gently and he winced. She knew how much that had to hurt – she broke her arm when she was seven—but at least she'd had a cast.

She wrapped his arm up snugly, trying to keep it in place. “There. How’s that?”

“Fine for now,” he said. “It’ll be okay until we get back to the base.”

“Let’s head back.”



Scribbles was poking around the base, looking for something of use. She had enough clarity of mind at the moment to remember where she was and what she was doing. She was grateful for that. At that time, she was just trying to busy herself. Captain and Pilot had gone out doing whatever it is they do, Aderyn and Snippy had gone out in search of supplies, and Engie was “fixing” a radio. Really, that meant he was just poking at it listlessly and sighing.

Scribbles straightened. She had been bent over an old tub, sifting through the various little nuts and bolts with her gloved hands. So far, she had zilch. Nothing that could help her survive.

She sighed, walked over to the staircase and sat down. It groaned and creaked under her weight. She tapped the front of her mask, deep in thought.

Should I hang around, or should I take off? she wondered. I mean, these people could keep me safe. They have food. Besides, security in numbers. Also, Snippy has a gun, and Aderyn has her sword.

She tilted her head. On the other hand, they might decide that I’m far more trouble than I’m worth and might feed me to that thing they call “Photoshop”. That wouldn’t be good.

She sighed, resting her chin in her hands. “What to do, what to do?” she muttered aloud.

Scribbles turned her head at the sound of feet stomping down the stairs. Engie was walking towards her, looking mopey as always.

“Hi,” she said, shuffling out of the way as he dropped past her onto the floor below.

Engie looked at her suspiciously. “Hello.”

Scribbles raised a brow. “What?”

“Nothing.” Pause. “How are you?”

“. . . Fine. Thanks for asking. What about you?”

“I’m doing okay, considering the world has ended.”

She chuckled a little. “True, I suppose.”

Another long pause.

“How come you’re acting normal?” he asked.

She tensed, realizing the prior part of the conversation had been a test. How had she missed that?

She frowned. “None of your business.” Scribbles stood, pushing past him. She was a sturdy girl, and when her shoulder collided with his, Engie stumbled a little.

Engie pushed his hand against her shoulder, and she was forced against the wall. “I think it is my business,” he said. “Was yesterday an act to earn our sympathy? I’d like to add that it didn’t work, by the way. I have to put up with enough crazy people.”

“If I was trying to earn your sympathy,” she said calmly, “don’t you think that I would have come to you starving and hopeless? That makes more sense than acting crazy and annoying.”

“Point.” He scrutinized her through his amber goggles, eyes calculating, measuring her.

She didn't like it.

“Let go of me, freak.”

This looked like it stung. “Don’t call me that.”

“Why not, knob?”

His fingers tightened, gripped her jacket. “This isn’t middle school, kid.”

“I know.”

“So enough with the name calling,” he growled. “There is a time and a place for everything.”

“You’re pinning me against a wall, perv,” she replied in an equally angry tone. “Let me go, or I’ll make you.”

His grip increased and he brought his face closer. “Oh, yeah? How?”

WHAM!

Scribbles’ fist collided with Gromov’s mask, forcing it painfully against his nose. Blood began to flow; he stumbled back onto the floor and pulled his mas away from his face so he could breathe.

Just about to shout an insult at Scribbles, he pulled himself up, but she was long gone, having taken off.

“Stupid pervert,” she muttered. “I'm going outside to cool off.”

This wasn’t necessary, however, and she didn’t get far. Within a few steps, she saw Snippy and Aderyn coming up towards her. When she noticed them, she raised her arm to wave hello, but then she noticed that something was very wrong. Snippy was holding himself stiffly, and was leaning heavily against Aderyn.

If they’re not constantly bickering, that can’t be good, she thought. What’s even worse is that they’re standing so close together without one of them chewing the other’s head off.

She broke into a run, screeching to a halt before the two. “What happened?”

“Mutants,” muttered Snippy thickly. “Swordsgirl here bandaged up my arm. . . Kind of.”

“I could have killed you,” the girl pointed out, panting with exertion. “But I didn’t. You owe me your life.”

“I owe you nothing! If that's how you want to play, I could have shot you in your sleep, so you owe me your life.”

She grunted, breath white puffs in the chill air. “Oh, really, Snipster?”

“SHUT UP,” snapped Scribbles, startling them both into silence. “C’mon, Ad, let’s get Snippy inside. Engie’s in there, but he’s kind of patching up a bloody nose right now.”

“What happened?” Snippy asked as Scribbles moved around to support his non-injured side.

She didn’t say anything.

“Well?” he asked as they limped towards the base.

“. . . I kind of punched him in the nose.”

“For what?”

“Threatening me.”

Snippy laughed. “That’s hilarious.”

He limped towards the base, feeling in better spirits at the thought of Gromov getting shown up by a girl.

Then something occurred to him, just as he crossed the threshold.

He eyed Scribbles suspiciously. “What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing,” she said quickly.

“Your voice is different.”

“I know. I can’t help it.”

“You’re acting normal. That’s weird, for you.”

“Yesterday was kind of an off day for me,” she said curtly. “If you got the impression that I am not capable of malice or clear thinking, you would be very, very wrong.”

Snippy didn’t say anything more on the subject.

Aderyn stomped up the stairs, trying to find the engineer. “Hey! Engie!”

He stuck his head out of the upstairs room, looking irritable. “What?”

“Snippy’s busted his arm.”

“What?”

She made an exasperated noise. “You have ears, don't you? Get down here!”

Two pairs of feet thumped hurriedly down the stairs and onto the crowded landing where Snippy and Scribbles were.

Engie didn’t meet anyone’s gaze as he took the sniper by his good arm and pulled him up the stairs.