T
Tegan
Guest
Mars had since fallen back from the growing crowd forming around the map. Now she stood alone between the group of teens and the adults, not quite interacting with either. She orbited them like a silent planet. She didn't know why Jason had let her join, or why the others were letting her stay, up to this point, she had been pretty useless. Throughout the trip she had kept to herself, rarely speaking to anyone, with her dull, glazed eyes always staring out past the trees and roads, to somewhere in the distance.
To them, she was probably just some dumb, knocked up tráfala from Pilsen who couldn't even read a map right. She wondered when the others would realize that she wasn't worth the effort, that she and the baby would probably just die during labour, anyway. Maybe they would leave her behind with one of the smaller cars that couldn't carry supplies. Not worth the fuel to run it. She hoped her coffin would at least be one of the sports cars--the '75 Firebird, if she could choose...
Something warm and soft had brushed past her legs, tail wagging, tongue lulling as it darted into the tall, dry grass. "Boon!" Mars hissed, following as quickly as her bulbous belly would allow. The others didn't seem to notice she had gone off after him, maybe she heard Jason calling after her, or the dog, she couldn't tell. Boon, a private name she had called him, since no one else had bothered with the task. Or perhaps they too had given the dog their own names, reflections of what the animal had meant to them. For her, it had been the quiet way the dog would regard her, without malice or expectation, the way he would place his furry head in her lap. He was the only member of the convoy who had seen her cry. She wasn't going to leave him here.
Mars could hear the small, frightened scurrying through the brush--field mice and hares fleeing from the disturbance she and Boon had caused. She was thankful they were scurrying away, it meant they weren't Switchers.
It wasn't long before the brambles and grasses parted to reveal the collapsed ruins of the burger stand. Whoever had run it before had not changed a thing about the building since the 50s, judging by the bright red paint that had faded to a dull orange. Mars glanced the still-standing sign, before calling to Boon again. Her only reply was the creak of metal hinges slowly coming loose as the sign swayed in the breeze.
Mars found Boon with his nose buried in a pile of rubble near the burger stand's front entrance. As she came closer, she could hear the wet lapping of his tongue. "Ugh! Boon, no! Stop eating-" Mars stopped dead in her tracks, her green eyes wide with terror, reflecting the feminine hand in their depths.
--she was huddled behind a row of musty coats, scarves, hats; one hand clamped over her mouth to choke down the scream that wanted to retch out of her stomach. A single sliver of light illuminated one terrified green eye as the scene unfolded before her.
The angel danced its wild dance just outside of the closet, coating the apartment in feathers and blood, its hundred tiny wings flexing, its agonized song sent an arching chill through her.
As one, the pigeons parted when the room was bathed in a lime green light, dissipating from the human shape they had taken. There were heavy footsteps coming up the stairs, Mars could hear them, closer and closer. There was only one part that the pigeons had not been able to devour: a right hand, the golden band around the finger glowed in the eery light.
This time, Mars couldn't stop herself from screaming.
To them, she was probably just some dumb, knocked up tráfala from Pilsen who couldn't even read a map right. She wondered when the others would realize that she wasn't worth the effort, that she and the baby would probably just die during labour, anyway. Maybe they would leave her behind with one of the smaller cars that couldn't carry supplies. Not worth the fuel to run it. She hoped her coffin would at least be one of the sports cars--the '75 Firebird, if she could choose...
Something warm and soft had brushed past her legs, tail wagging, tongue lulling as it darted into the tall, dry grass. "Boon!" Mars hissed, following as quickly as her bulbous belly would allow. The others didn't seem to notice she had gone off after him, maybe she heard Jason calling after her, or the dog, she couldn't tell. Boon, a private name she had called him, since no one else had bothered with the task. Or perhaps they too had given the dog their own names, reflections of what the animal had meant to them. For her, it had been the quiet way the dog would regard her, without malice or expectation, the way he would place his furry head in her lap. He was the only member of the convoy who had seen her cry. She wasn't going to leave him here.
Mars could hear the small, frightened scurrying through the brush--field mice and hares fleeing from the disturbance she and Boon had caused. She was thankful they were scurrying away, it meant they weren't Switchers.
It wasn't long before the brambles and grasses parted to reveal the collapsed ruins of the burger stand. Whoever had run it before had not changed a thing about the building since the 50s, judging by the bright red paint that had faded to a dull orange. Mars glanced the still-standing sign, before calling to Boon again. Her only reply was the creak of metal hinges slowly coming loose as the sign swayed in the breeze.
Mars found Boon with his nose buried in a pile of rubble near the burger stand's front entrance. As she came closer, she could hear the wet lapping of his tongue. "Ugh! Boon, no! Stop eating-" Mars stopped dead in her tracks, her green eyes wide with terror, reflecting the feminine hand in their depths.
--she was huddled behind a row of musty coats, scarves, hats; one hand clamped over her mouth to choke down the scream that wanted to retch out of her stomach. A single sliver of light illuminated one terrified green eye as the scene unfolded before her.
The angel danced its wild dance just outside of the closet, coating the apartment in feathers and blood, its hundred tiny wings flexing, its agonized song sent an arching chill through her.
As one, the pigeons parted when the room was bathed in a lime green light, dissipating from the human shape they had taken. There were heavy footsteps coming up the stairs, Mars could hear them, closer and closer. There was only one part that the pigeons had not been able to devour: a right hand, the golden band around the finger glowed in the eery light.
This time, Mars couldn't stop herself from screaming.