Romac Ch. 9

Scribbles sat on the deteriorating couch with her arms crossed. Snippy was slouching next to her, clumsily cleaning his gun with one hand. Engie was sitting as far away from her as humanly possible: on the other side of the room, with the Captain and Pilot between them, who were playing a game of chess which involved the Captain’s mug being a queen.

“Checkmate!” called Captain, pushing his mug forward and knocking aside all other pieces regardless of their colour.

“You win again!” cried Pilot cheerily, not at all bothered by the thirty-two losses in a row. “Zee Captain is always the best!”

Snippy groaned quietly and continued wiping down his gun. He dropped his rag for the umpteenth time and groaned again, but louder.

“You want me to get that?” Scribbles asked.

Snippy sighed and leaned back into the couch. “Please,” he muttered.

Scribbles untangled her arms and reached down, grabbed the rag, and placed it in Snippy’s hand.

“Do you know where Swordsgirl is?” he asked with a nod of thanks.

Scribbles shook her head. “Last I saw, she was storming off into the snow. Why?”

Snippy tilted his head at her, giving the impression that one of his eyebrows was cocked. “You sound angry.”

“She was being a jerk,” she muttered, crossing her arms again and slumping back into the couch. A frown creased the skin between her eyebrows.

“How so?” he asked sympathetically—he could very well understand Aderyn being less than pleasant. He would have touched her shoulder had his arm not been wound up in a tight bandage.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” she said. “Don’t listen to me, I’m just ranting like a crazy girl here.” Then she smacked her forehead bitterly. “Oh wait. I am a crazy girl.”

He nudged her gently. “C’mon. You can tell me. I won’t bite.”

Scribbles chuckled slightly. “You make a persuasive argument, unlike most of the monsters out here.” She shot a look at Engie, who shrank away slightly. Then she sighed and rubbed her shoulders. “Well . . . she basically called me useless.”

“Mm,” said Snippy. “That’s a biter, especially in these times.”

“Yeah,” she agreed. “I know I read a lot and I’m not a good fighter, but that doesn’t make me useless. R-right?” For a moment, her voice wavered a bit, and Snippy nodded, as it seemed the best thing to do at the time.

Scribbles sighed again and stood, clapping her hand on Snippy’s shoulder. He bit back a cry of pain, managing to reduce it to a hiss.

“Sorry,” she said, quickly pulling her hand away. “I’ll just be outside. I’ll yell if . . . you know . . . I’m attacked by a mutant or something.”

“That's likelier than you might think.” Snippy laughed anyway. “Cheers. Don’t get frostbite.”

“No promises,” she said, smiling behind the mask which concealed it so well. She shouldered her backpack and tromped down the stairs. Dust fell a little from the ceiling as she stomped, not caring that she was making enough noise to wake a monster like Photoshop. She jumped down the last two steps with a sound that was loud enough to wake a small Arabian army, elephants and all. She walked out the door, plopping down into a nearby snow pile. The cold soaked through her pants quickly, but she had long ago come to grips with the fact that in post-apocalyptia, she was always in a state of being cold, wet, or some combination thereof.

She unzipped her backpack and pulled out Thing. She eyed it sadly, taking in its sorry shape. It had been burned, nibbled on by mice, crushed by half a car, thrown at a mutant on one occasion, and quite a few other misfortunes had befallen it besides those. It was a miracle that it was still intact.

With some distress, Scribbles noticed that one of the legs was falling off, and some stuffing was poking through the seams. She bit her lip, knowing that she wouldn’t have noticed this if she was crazy . . . at least not until the leg came off entirely. If she could scrounge up a needle and thread, she could patch it up.

She chose that moment to look up through the rapidly falling snow and sweep her gaze across the wasteland, noticing the now-familiar silhouette of Aderyn coming towards the base. She stuffed her cat in her bag with a huff, not wanting to attract more mockery than was necessary.

Standing, she brushed snow off her pants and crossed her arms with a glare. However, her irritation turned to concern when she noticed that instead of Aderyn’s normal easy, confident lope, she was limping slightly.

Dammit.

Scribbles shouldered her backpack and jogged over to her friend, skidding to a halt on the icy ground and biting her lip at the sight of the blood streaming down Aderyn's left leg and the obvious discomfort with which she held herself.

“What happened?” she asked, her voice not as powerful as she wanted it to be.

“Mutants,” Aderyn muttered thickly. “Same ones that helped Snipster bust his arm. Won't do any more busting from now on, though.”

“Cocky attitude even with a half-severed leg, Ad?” Scribbles asked.

“Oh yeah. You know me.” She grunted a little in pain as she stopped and tried to straighten. “I’ll be badmouthing people even as I die.”

Scribbles sighed. “Let me help.”

For once, Aderyn didn’t protest as Scribbles pulled her arm over her shoulders, taking the weight off her left side. She let out a breath of relief as the pain began to ebb slightly.

“How deep is it?” asked Scribbles, feeling a little sick to her stomach.

Aderyn craned her neck to look down at the injury, voice hoarse. “Not too bad. Half an inch at worst.”

Scribbles swallowed the bile that rose in her throat. “Gross.”

Aderyn glanced at her. “Please don’t tell me you feel faint at the sight of blood.”

“And I have a phobia of sharp things, yes.” She hung her head in shame. “God, I am useless.”

Aderyn sighed, but didn’t say anything. Instead she focused on not putting too much weight on Scribbles as they made their slow way back to the base.




“What the hell happened?” demanded Snippy, jumping to his feet as Aderyn limped into the room with Scribbles and plopped down onto the couch.

“Mutants,” she muttered, ire rising at the sight of the man.

Engie stood and wandered over, casting a wary glance at Scribbles, who wasn’t paying attention at all. She was staring off into space with her arms crossed, leaning against the arm of the sofa.

“Okay,” said the orange-clad man. “Aderyn. I need to take a look at your leg. Can you lie on your stomach?”

“I guess,” she muttered, stretching out on the couch. She flinched as Engie’s deft fingers rolled up her pant leg with a few efficient movements. He drew in a sharp breath, and Snippy peered over to look at the wound, his brow tilting in worry.

“It’s—it's not too bad,” said Engie tightly.

“What is zis?” came the loud voice of the Captain as he strode over with a flourish, black overcoat billowing around his ankles. “Ms. Epee, your leg! I need mein minions to be in tippy-top shape in order to perform my delicious duties!”

From partial embarrassment, partial frustration and partial pain, Aderyn groaned and hid her face in her hands as Engie started to clean the wound.

“Of course, Captain,” said Scribbles softly. Aderyn peered through her fingers to look up at the other girl. She bit her lip as she noticed that some of the clarity was vanishing from her eyes behind the aviator goggles. Her gaze was unfocussed, and she looked a little vague and helpless. Her arms were wrapped tightly around Thing, hugging it close to her.

Aderyn sighed and rested her chin on her hands as Engie bandaged up her leg.



Scribbles felt happy again. She was glad for that, because earlier she had felt angry and upset. She didn’t remember why, but she had a hazy idea that it was Aderyn’s fault. Why would she be mad at Aderyn? Aderyn was her best friend, next to Thing, of course.

She was building a tiny house for Thing out of little sticks and things that she could find. She knew that Thing wouldn’t like to live there, but it would be a nice little fort that they could play in. Or he could play in it. Scribbles was way too big.

She heard the crunching of snow behind her and she turned to see what it was. Her face split into a wide, cheery grin, and she waved. “Hi, Aderyn!”

“Hey,” the black-haired girl muttered as she took a seat on an overturned box. She held herself a little stiffly, but Scribbles continued to fiddle with her fort.

“How’re you doing?” she asked, restacking the twigs into a teepee shape.

Aderyn raised an eyebrow. “Um . . . I had my leg clawed by a mutant today . . .”

“So . . . not good?” she asked, pushing Thing inside the little house.

She exhaled. “No. Not good.”

“Too bad,” she said, sticking a tiny splinter on the top of the house as a little flag. “Yay! I built this house in the name of Captainia!”

Aderyn rolled her eyes. “Great.”

“I’d build a bigger one,” she said, flopping down onto her stomach and propping her chin up in her hands. “But, you know . . . I’m not strong enough. Plus it would have to be big to hold all seven of us.”

Aderyn tilted her head, black hair falling in front of her goggles. “Seven?”

“Me, you, Snippy, Pilot, Captain and that Engie guy. Right?” She looked at Thing. “No offense, Thing, but you don’t take up much room.”

“I think you mean six,” said Aderyn.

“Oh,” she said, confusion taking hold in her face. “You’re right. Six.”

Aderyn sighed and raked her fingers through her hair. “This has been the longest few days of my life.”

“How so?” asked Scribbles, the spark returning to her eyes. “They seem the same length as any other day. Hours don’t really vary except for when the northern hemisphere is titled away from the sun—or towards it, for that matter. Not that you can really see the sun anymore . . .”

Aderyn chuckled in spite of the exasperation that she seemed to be permanently wallowing in around this girl. “No, it’s a figure of speech. It just means that a lot of stuff has happened.”

“Oh. Like what?”

“Meeting you,” she said, taking out her sword to polish it.

“Yay!” Scribbles said, clapping her hands. “Sounds fun!”

“Also joining up with the rest of these nutjobs,” said Aderyn, realizing too late what she'd said. She froze and glanced at Scribbles, who had gone still.

“What do you mean “the rest of”?” she asked quietly. “Are you implying that I’m crazy?”

Aderyn stiffened.

“I’m not crazy!” Scribbles yelled, jumping up. “Why are you being so mean?”

Aderyn held her hands up. “Calm down. I wasn’t trying to insult.”

Scribbles visibly relaxed at that, sitting back down. “Okay. You’re forgiven.”

Aderyn breathed a silent sigh of relief. She knew that despite Scribbles’ generally harmless appearance, she could really pack a punch when it came down to it, and with her leg hurt, if things really came down to blows, she wouldn't have a chance.

Footsteps tapped behind her and she deliberately directed her gaze at the sky. She knew who this was.

“Swordsgirl. It’s time to eat.”

“Hm,” she grunted noncommittally, slipping her epee back into its sheath. Snippy brushed past her and said, “Hey, Scribbles, we’ve got some food.”

Her head snapped up. “Food? Awesome! I haven’t eaten since yesterday!” She paused. “Or was it the day before?”

Snippy smiled a little behind his mask. “Yeah. But we’re eating a little into our backup supply because we couldn’t find any food today.”

“Yeah,” said Aderyn. “That was your fault, Snipster.”

Snippy turned around and shot a glare at Aderyn. “First of all, my name is Snippy, and secondly, excuse me?” he said indignantly. “It’s my fault? How is this my fault?”

“You attracted them with your clanging and banging, Snipster,” she snapped. “Then you broke your damn arm and I had to help you back here. When I got mauled, at least I made it back by myself.”

“Oh, really?” he asked, his good hand on his hip. “What were you doing back at the dump, huh?”

“Supplies,” she said, touching her pocket subconsciously.

“Uh-huh . . .” he said slowly. “So tell me, did you actually manage to get anything on this wildly dangerous and stupid expedition?”

She didn’t answer. Aside from the faint howl of the wind, only the sound of her teeth grinding together filled the silence.

“Thought so,” said Snippy after a few moments. “That’s very careless of you.”

“Careless?” Aderyn spat, eyes flashing behind the ski goggles. “How was I being careless? My freaking leg almost got torn off!”

Now he was angry too. “That’s exactly my point!” he snapped, leaning down. She jerked as though she'd gotten an electric shock as his hand pressed down onto her thigh, then grabbed onto his sore arm as retaliation. He kept his expression impassive even as pain ripped up his arm and into his shoulder, shooting lances of it.

“You,” he breathed in a low tone, “were being careless and cocky.” Venom laced his every word. “Did you ever consider, for even a second, that you could have led them here?”

Scribbles whimpered a little and clung to Thing. Snippy was even scarier when he talked in that quiet voice. She almost preferred it when they yelled at each other. What was even more scary was what he was saying—that mutants might come here, to their one safe haven in the midst of all this destruction. She reassured herself that Captain would protect them with his awesomeness.

“I’m not so stupid as to lead them here, Snipster,” Aderyn growled in that same muted tone. “I killed it before it could follow. Stop being such a goddamn worrywart.”

“My name is not Snipster!” he snarled.

“Okay, 'not Snipster',” she said with a poisonous smirk.

Snippy gave her one last glare before relaxing his grip on her leg, yanking his arm out of Aderyn’s grasp with a quick jerk. “Okay. Fine. What’s that green stuff you have all over you?”

Aderyn looked down, realizing that she was still covered in mutant blood. She made a disgusted face. “Just a little proof of the fact that I did kill that mutant . . . Snipster.”

He groaned and rubbed his forehead. “Okay. Whatever. Fine. Just . . . you two should probably come in and eat, since we need our strength for tomorrow. Besides, it’s getting dark.”

Scribbles looked around and noticed for the first time that she could hardly see her hands. Her goggles were tinted orange—her favourite colour, since it was fun and cheery—so everything always looked bright. She liked it that way.

She jumped up and started to follow Snippy inside, Thing tucked snugly under her arm. She paused when Aderyn didn’t follow them, and stuck her head back outside to see her struggling to stand.

“Do you want some help?” she called.

“Shh,” hissed Aderyn, waving a hand at her. Off-balance, she stumbled a little and grabbed onto the wall of the base. “Are you trying to wake up all the mutants?”

“Sorry,” she said in an only slightly reduced voice. “But . . . do you want help?”

Aderyn shook her head. “I’m fine.”

Scribbles watched her limp inside and pause in front of the stairs. She gripped the railing, heaving herself up onto the first step with an effort, a muttered curse coming to Scribbles' ears.

“Are you sure?” she asked.

Aderyn frowned stubbornly. “Yes! Just leave me alone!”

Scribbles sighed and trotted up the stairs past her, stopping at the top and looking down at her one last time before heading into the room where the food was.



A fire had been started in a barrel that Pilot and Captain had rolled in (initially their plan had been to stuff Snippy inside, but Snippy had managed to change their minds with a quick smack to the cranium). Snippy was clumsily trying to open a can with one hand, and he eventually surrendered it to Gromov, who opened it for him. Pilot had his mask off, revealing him to be a young man with platinum blonde hair and childlike proportions, and was chewing with gusto. The Captain was standing in the corner, looking out the window with his back to the group—most likely contemplating thoughts so deep no other person could understand them. Well, Scribbles and Pilot had a pretty good shot.

Snippy pulled off his mask and goggles, setting them down on the table, then picked up his fork and began the arduous task of eating Spam luncheon meat with his non-dominant hand. His black hair peeked out from under his hood, and his cyan eyes were narrowed in concentration as he struggled not to drop the luncheon meat.

Engie shook his head, pulled back his hood, took off his mask and cracked open a can of beans for himself. His brown hair was parted in the middle, and his cheekbones were unusually pronounced, noticeable even with his goggles still on.

Pilot beamed when he saw Scribbles. “Want some?” he asked, holding up his canned food.

She grinned back. “Sure!” She hopped over, plopped down on a chair, pulled off her cap, pushed her goggles up onto her forehead, took off her mask and dropped it onto her backpack beside her, and held her hands out to Engie. “Food!”

He blinked and passed her an open can with a fork. “Here.”

“Thanks!” she said, stabbing her fork into the food and shovelling it into her mouth hungrily.

Pilot's smile grew as he mirrored her.

“Ugh . . .” Aderyn limped into the room and sighed, leaning against the damaged wall. “Made it,” she growled to no one in particular. “Lousy stupid goddamn stairs.”

Relenting, Snippy held out an open can with a spoon inside. “You want some grub?”

She walked over and grabbed it, giving him a single nod of appreciation. She sat down in a chair next to Scribbles, pulled off her mask and took a bite of mushroom stew.

Scribbles tilted the can up and swallowed the remainder of her food. She shoved the can at Engie. “All done! More please!”

Pilot pushed his can into Engie’s face. “Me too!”

Engie looked at her, eyes narrowed, as he took the can from her. “That’s all you can have.”

Their faces fell.

“Aww. Okay.” Scribbles crossed her legs on her chair, propped her chin up with her hands and stared into the fire, mesmerized, while Pilot pulled out a toy airplane and started making little sputtering noises, guiding the craft through the air.

Glancing towards Scribbles, Aderyn recognized that look. “Don’t touch it,” she snapped.

“Okay . . .” Scribbles said dreamily, obviously not paying attention in the slightest.

Aderyn sighed and shook her head, rummaging in the can with her spoon. “Fine. Whatever. Just don't stick your fingers in it. The last thing we need is for you to get injured, too.”

“Mm-hmm . . .”

Since she was famished, Aderyn quickly finished the slimy stew, dropping the can on the floor next to her with a hollow clatter.

“Ahem.”

She shot Snippy a look. “What?”

He coughed lightly. “Um, I was just thinking . . . well. . . you two are the first females we’ve seen since the fallout. So I was wondering if—”

Aderyn crossed her arms and leaned back, scooting her chair away from him. “Don’t even finish that statement.”

“But—”

“Listen to yourself,” she snapped. She pointed at Scribbles, who was reaching for the fire again. “Now look at her. Just take a minute and observe.”

Snippy looked at her, then back at Aderyn, whose fingers were creeping towards the grip of her sword.

“Point taken,” he mumbled, poking at his canned spaghetti. He raised his gaze slightly. “But . . .”

Aderyn stared him down, daring him to continue.

He coughed again, eyes sliding to the side. “It's just that . . . unless we come across some other females who are willing to—”

“Hell no.” She shook her head adamantly, jagged black bangs falling in front of her eyes. “No way. We are not having this conversation.”

“It might be essential to the survival of the human race!” He was getting annoyed again. “Why are you being so stubborn?”

“Screw this.” Aderyn stood up and grabbed her goggles and mask, chair scraping across the floor, and nearly fell over before she caught herself. “Screw this,” she repeated to cover up for her mistake.

“That's what we're discussing!” snapped Snippy before he could halt the words.

Her eyes widened, and for a moment he was sure she was going to stab him then and there, but after a moment, she whirled around and stormed out with a snarl—at least, tried to storm out. It wasn't as impressive as she would've liked, what with her limp. She still managed to look enraged, even from the back, but as she turned and began her descent down the stairs, Snippy spotted a flush creeping across her cheeks.

“Hmm?” Scribbles looked up. “What's going on?” She frowned, head cocking to the side. “Are you two fighting again?”

He exhaled heavily, his own face red. “No. Not exactly.”

“Good,” she said, stern, and turned her attention elsewhere. Snippy leaned back and stared at the ceiling, listening as Aderyn's uneven footsteps died out below them.

“Damn,” he murmured into the air. The girl, annoying and cynical as she could be, had a point. Those two were only teenagers—just kids. There was no way they could force something like that onto them. But in the end, if there really was no other choice—

He shook his head. No. They could put that off until much later if they needed to.

There was a crash from behind him and he heard a shriek, followed by maniacal laughter. “Stop! That's my mask, you shoe! Give it back!”

“No, you're a shoe!” yelled Pilot as he bounded away with Scribbles in pursuit. Snippy groaned and got to his feet. Jeez. No time for this now. He headed after the two, grumbling to himself and thinking: If we can even survive each other long enough, it'll be a goddamn miracle.