Prequel to a Nightmare in Heaven...Private to Marauder13 and Alana_

[Alana_]

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It started out of nothing...Governments taking decisions, making plans, serving nothing only the hungry greed for more..More what? More arms? More control? More power?...They served no one after the first two years only themselves....People weren't listened too..Those that began to question the war, were listed as rebels, and constitutions were changed so ensure they were outlawed..
Innocent people that just didn't want to fight, or want the fighting to continue, were branded criminals...Neighbors turned against neighbors..Families against their own...And soon...there was so much fighting, that even Governments lost control, and anarchy thrived.
The hobbled glory of cities were now shredded to rubble....Homes looted long ago, are starved of occupancy, and the streets were zones of warfare, where everyone is a target...Who the law was, no one knew for sure..Only that if you choose badly, it would be your final choice......What semblance of order remained, was strived by cruel means to retain a grip ..a clawed cold grip for control..Control over fuel...food...even the boots off the feet of the dead...

Good people lived like animals...good people that were just trying to stay ahead of the marauders that called themselves a Government force. Bastardized soldiers, that had no choice but to perform their duties , under a battered brutalized flag that had once known honor...

Somewhere in the last week of winter, Fiona and her husband had been rounded up for questioning..It was regular....There was a time when being brought to the barracks was terrifying..But now, it was almost 'normal'...
The fear was constant, but then there little else felt these days only fear. Ben..Fiona's Ben, had helped her of the back of a battered, and very nonmilitary flat back truck, protective of his pregnant wife..
The questions began right in the yard...It had gone almost calmly...politely..Did they know there where abouts of the rebel camps...Ben told them no..An honest answer...Did they know the where abouts of a supply of fuel to feed the Government vehicles...And again, he had answered honestly No...
Fiona had stood with her hand in his, looking at him, looking at the Sergent questioning them.. The Sergent looked at her, and her swollen stomach, and frowned..She was to be brought a seat...Curious courtesy, to be seated in the middle of a yard where wheels were being changed, and cans siphoned from, for the last dregs of gasoline.

Ben watched her...his smile nervous, but never the less a smile just for her..Her made sure she was warm, and turned back to continue...Over and over again, the same questions...On and on, the Sergent calm, Ben remaining polite, his manner as relaxed as the questions would allow..
Fiona grew a little more anxious...It was going on too long...
Could we go now please.....'No...what was the rush'........
I'm hungry...I'm tired..We've done nothing wrong.....' Then you have nothing to worry about'..
And on and on again it started...Two hours later, she was cold..Ben was tense..Holding her hand, squatting by her side, his hand on her belly, as he tried to ignore the feeling that something dreadful was happening...
She was crying ..trying not to, but it wouldn't stop...And the questions continued..the same ones..Over and over....Across the yard, the work had stopped, and the mechanics were watching...Some showed signs of sympathy..Some knew better, and kept their eyes averted....

A huge truck arrived..battered..Its paint work long gone, its makers plates rusted with bullet holes across the front grill...The back flaps opened..and men jumped out..
Heavily armed, standing in worn combat gear, faces hidden beneat dirt, and the dark glasses of marines that were no longer the proud marines of long ago...
Orders were given quickly....Six stepped forward, their weapons drawn on those that stood watching...and one of the other two turned to Ben and aimed..

He was dead before Fiona could catch her breath...Her husband lay at her feet, with her sitting staring up to where he'd stood only seconds ago...She had to blink, and refocus, thinking he'd fallen..But the pool at the back of his head began to grow in the dirt, and she saw it was blood..
Ben..her sweet gentle Ben, that had never spoken a cross word to anyone in his life, was gone...And for no good reason...He answered their questions...Honestly....

They were just trying to live....They didn't join any of the newly forming 'clans' , that were developing ...
Groups that robbed from those that had nothing...Groups that called them selves 'New Liberators'..She and Ben had had nothing to do with them...They moved every couple of days, to somewhere else, so they wouldn't be bound to one group...
All they'd wanted to do was escaped the madness of the huge city, and the wars that were never going to end, and find a safe haven, to have their baby.

*************

It was the end of the summer, and golden sunlight almost allowed the charred remains of what had been a vast proud city, look good...It stood like a regal pathetic lord, only with no subjects....
The burned out cars, shattered windows, and broken, exploded pavements , smirked cruelly at the tall elegant skeletons of skyscrapers, that no longer reached the sky.

Ben, had been buried in a small patch untouched by the bombs...Friends....And friends of those friends, had come...They'd somehow, managed to barter for the return of his body, and he his tiny son were buried on a Friday morning three months ago....
The baby had come too soon..The fright, the grief, the pain, the blind broken hearted agony of losing him, had tore Fiona's body apart, until the pains started, and they wouldn't stop.....
Little lungs never grappled for air..Tiny fingers never clung to hers....Little eyes never opened...She didn't name him...Some how, giving him a name made him too real..made what happened far too ...real.
In her mind, she needed to at least shield herself that little bit, and protect what she'd thought she'd lost briefly..Sanity was not something she could fight for....Mad people don't know they were mad...And the sane don't care..Not in the wars.

Her patched back pack packed...a water canister hanging from her hip, and her firearm tucked close to her right hand beneath a flowing fabric that was both cloak and bed....
She was leaving this hell, if it took her the last breath of her body...The friends..and friends of those friends, tried to talk her out of it....But Fiona wanted out....It was too hard....She had lost everything...
No...............Everything had been taken from her.!

Traveling by night, wasn't safe ordinarily ...but then neither was traveling by day...She chose night, because at least on her own, she could make better ground, and remain more silent....Patrols ran every hour....Between them, the scavengers seemed to ooze from the shadows, to find anything..Anything that could be traded, eaten, sold, or stolen...

The streets dark, the shadows hungry , as hungry eyes watched her, and she watched them...
She wanted out!...She wanted out, and she wasn't above doing anything she had to, to escape a city..a world..and a people that had shred itself of hope, and dignity, ....
Where it, and they were now monsters..Hhungry beasts that knew no kindness...There had to be somewhere, where people remembered how to be people.....
Some spoke of a place to the north....A place that hadn't been touched....Maybe there...if she could find it..maybe there, she'd heal, and the pain of Ben, and their little one, would make sense, and they'd let her go.

 

[marauder13]

When he was a boy, Mark wanted to be a Marine. And a firefighter, astronaut, Superhero, King and Knight in shining armour. He never thought he would wind up being any.

But he was recruited. In the middle of the night. The lights blinded him through his eyelids as the loud gravel voice announced, "Congratulations on volunteering for the Marine Corps." He was thrown into the back of a deuce and a half along with the other recruits as three submachine gun toting soldiers lined the back.

"No funny business, or a fair few of you will die with the troublemaker." Mark looked behind him, and saw the large sheet of dented metal that separated the truck's cabin from the back. That fact alone kept him from doing anything fatally stupid. He sat with his knees up in front of his chest wondering how the hell he was going to get out of the mess he was in.

They were all bundled out of the truck in the predawn light, all lacking the proper clothing for the biting cold. Before them stood a large black skinned man wearing the cleanest uniform Mark had ever seen. He saw the sergeant stripes almost shining against the dark camouflage. He looked at them, shaking his head.

"Line up! Move it! Why is it that all we have left to work with are maggots, and useless ones at that." The 20 men staggered forward trying to form a line. One of the new recruits just looked around blankly, not moving. One of the soldiers pushed him forward, but he mere took a step or two to prevent himself falling. The sergeant tilted his head to one side, and the soldier behind the recruit drew his knife. He took the man by the chin, lifting his head up as he swiftly dragged the blade through the recruit's throat. Blood fountain onto the ground, sending up small pillars of steam as the recruit's life drained out of him. Soon, the dead man sagged to his knees, and the soldier pushed him forward so he fell forward, keeping the blood away from everyone else.

The recruits reacted in various degrees of fright, which resulted in the two trying to run being shot dead, and the rest standing in pools of vomit, piss, shit or combinations of the three.

"Line up, people. Do it NOW!" The remaining men formed a line quickly. "You are now in boot camp for the Marine Corps. As you can tell, we have had to change our discipline regime, as well as how we train you people. Those of you that survive will serve with honour and distinction. Not only that, we'll feed your sorry asses, clothe them and give you something to do to make this nation great again.

"Now, you will follow this Marine here who will take you to get your clothes, then get you fed and then start your training. Move!"

So started a 12 week nightmare that claimed the lives of another 11 of the recruits. Three died as a result of long distance runs. If they fell, they died. Lifted head, knife across the throat. They wouldn't bother wasting a bullet. Two died because they had been too severely injured during training for the Corps to "waste valuable supplies to keep them alive". The other six were due to discipline. Attempts to leave the service, assaulting a superior officer and one crazed mass murder attempt saw five of them bound ankle and wrist in the middle of the camp on their knees with the standard blade across the throat.

By the end, the remaining six were Marines, and in the field fighting for their country against the numerous rebel factions. They knew where their loyalties lay, anywhere else would have their corpses lying beside them.

*******

Another week, another execution of rebel. Mark's squad had been called out to help execute some rebel sympathizer that had continued to withhold information. The squad decided that it was easiest to rotate the killings through each member. Mark knew a couple of the squad would happily have his turn, but if he dipped out, that would look suspect. Looking suspect was fatal in the Corps.

The truck rolled to a stop, and they deployed as per orders, Mark taking aim on the rebel that was being distracted by the sergeant. Within moments he knew who the criminal was. Ben! There was no way that Ben could have been guilty of what he had been 'charged' with. Ben wouldn't have changed. He was married and his wife... The woman sitting beside him had to have been Fiona. He had his orders. Ben was going to die, no matter what. All he could do was make it quick and clean.

He lined up the man's head, and squeezed the trigger. Ben went down, no problems, no fuss no mess. The woman was sitting down next to the where Ben had been standing. When she moved, he saw that she was pregnant. Mark looked at the sergeant, who signaled all clear. Mark put his weapon up, and rejoined the squad. Their work done, it was off to the mess tent for food.

*******

Mark had executed Ben, his buddy from high school. The two had kept touch until just after the Wars started. Ben and his wife moved around once the chaos started. Mark stayed put until he 'volunteered'. Then he went where he was told. After that day, he wanted out. He looked for any opportunity that presented itself for him to leave. Three months after the execution, Mark got his chance.

A routine night patrol on the outskirts of the city. His squad encountered a clan scavenger/raider party and all hell broke loose. He got himself onto position to better support the squad with cover fire when the rest of the squad pulled back, leaving him stranded. He laid low while the enemy moved past him. Rather than attack them from behind, he 'resigned' from the Corps.

He only had one other problem... He had to get out of the city before the Corps found him. He had no desire to be trussed up naked in the middle of the base awaiting the knife.

 

[Alana_]

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She'd slept most of the day before in the remnants of a burnt out van..Charred enough to look entirely useless, but on Fiona's closer inspection, it offered enough shelter for her to feel she could sleep..And sleep she did.....
Thankfully, a dreamless sleep..There were no faces of soldiers..no gun shot..no Ben..no grief...And no baby. Waking at sundown, she ate a can of peaches, and sat curled up waiting..Waiting for the world to quieten, and night to bring with it its silent battles.

The streets cleared of the marauding soldiers, leaving open the entry for the scavengers..Quietly, she again hugged shadows that could be dangerous, but no more so than walking at night time in the open...
The city's streets had gotten lost in the bombings, so finding a path that was safe and clear was laborious and time consuming....She was hungry again...But rationing her food supply was necessary...Fiona almost smiled as she looked across at the huge rubbled structure of a shopping mall, with its shattered signs of well known shops gleaming in a gorgeous angelic moonlight....

There were no trips to the shops anymore..Not if you valued your life...You bartered...You bartered with those that had... She'd 'sold' Bens only coats for what was in the pack on her back...The brown cloak she wore was his, but would remain with her always...She felt he was still close when wrapped in it, and sometimes, Fiona forgot ...Forgot that horrific last look at her husband before his body had been dragged away from her, as she screamed and clung to him begging...Begging that in death they'd leave him alone...

A dog howled... It was a feral animal, and almost as dangerous as the people were slowly losing all sense of their humanity....
Looking up, she watched a free starlet sky, and envied the twinkles that no one down here could touch...Quietly..she went back to clamoring as quietly as she could over the mounds, sitting for breaks, afraid to move on, but more afraid of staying.

What would Ben do?...Right now, he'd have been sleeping with her, in what ever place they called home at that time...Sleeping with her and their new.............

Was that a shadow?...A shadow on a shadow?...Swallowing, Fiona slipped her hand to her gun, and slipped it from the leather holster on her side, and quietly, and for someone so afraid, she unclipped the safety, and moved forward in such a stealth like fashion, one would never know, she'd never held a firearm until after Bens death..They had been peaceable..
But the friends...and the friends of friends had taken her aside after a couple of weeks , watching her grieve herself sick, letting her know she had to simply learn how to protect herself now...there was no Ben to do it for her.

Yes her hand shook...And her eyes watered because she was too afraid to blink...Was it a shadow , or was it her own blind fear playing tricks on her?....Where was the end of the city?...How much further until she could feel dirt under her feet, and not the limy white exploded dust and rubble from murdered buildings..

He..he...Hello?..........dont move...I'll shoot..

I will......Just let me pass....Dont move..

It was a man...Hidden in the layers of his own fabrics..his own movable home..just like hers..like Bens cloak..Walking sideways, stepping slowly, Fiona never let him out of her sight...
Two hands , with fingers interlinked held the gun..One hand shaking more than the other....Her finger on the trigger, she had to keep reminding herself not to actually have it too close..but close enough...Just in case....
It was hard to tell if he was military, mercenary or just like her..Lost, and trying to find her way..

Don't move....We'll be fine...I'll be gone in a minute.

 

[marauder13]

He was a deserter. If he was caught, he would be executed. It had taken too long for him to report back, and unless he was found wounded, he would be considered a deserter. But he wasn't going back, so it didn't really matter about the technicalities. And since they would kill him anyway, he decided that he would add a few more capital crimes to the list.

The first would be to visit the cache his squad set up for the company they were a part of. Scattered around the city were little well prepared and hidden supply dumps. Essential supplies were stored there. Spare weapons, ammunition and other novelties used in warfare. Those novelties were what he was after. If nothing, there would be some good bartering material in there.

Even with the advent of Wars, the military had not changed much. Even given the nature of his recruitment, he was still outfitted to a degree that was mildly scary. He had fatigues, socks, boots, poncho, a kevlar helmet and kevlar vest. Weapon wise he had the standard issue bayonet, M16A2 with 6 loaded spare magazines plus an extra 180 rounds of ammunition for the M16.

He also had basic webbing and a backpack to carry his spoils on or in. But he had a shelter half and a sleeping bag, some of his prized possessions. But what really gave him real barter power were his six standard fragmentation grenades, personal medkit and of all things, his manual powered flashlight. It had a fold out crank that charged up the internal power supply, and it worked like a standard flashlight after that. No need to worry about batteries.

Given his current location, it would take him a day of careful travel. But he knew how the enemies thought, particularly the Army and Marines. Through a series of dashes between buildings, hiding behind piles of rubble, or the remains of wrecked and stripped vehicles, Mark slowly made his way closer to his destination. He avoided contact where he could, and was lucky on a couple of occasions to out maneuver those few he managed to disturb.

It got to mid afternoon and he was tired. He was in the ground floor of an office block which was reasonably intact. He stood slowly, walking until he found a stair well. Moving very slowly, he moved up the stairs to the next landing. It was dark, and his heart was racing.. again. Combat induced caution was one of the most draining circumstances to be in. But it was better than being dead. He managed to work his way up four floors before he moved out into the building proper. Drawing on all the experience in house clearing, he made sure that the area he was in was clear.

He found an office that was relatively intact, and set himself up to sleep there. He found some debris that he set up as an alarm on the two approaches to where he slept. He set the shelter half up as a cover, and his rolled up sleeping bag was a pillow. He ensured that his rifle was safe, and rolled up and fell asleep.

==============

It was dark, he was a few blocks short of his destination, and he encountered someone else in the dark. The softest of sounds alerted him, and he froze. He waited for the hammering of his heart to slow enough to allow him to hear again. He slowly turned his head, scanning for the source of the sound. The light tinkle of rubble being dislodged helped him pin down the direction. He started to slowly move closer to a pile of rubble that would shield him from the other person while he brought his rifle up closer to his shoulder.

There! The distinct outline of a top of a head coming over the top of a pile of rubble. They raised them self enough to look over the top. He froze again.

"He..he...Hello?..........dont move...I'll shoot..

I will......Just let me pass....Dont move.."

The voice was hauntingly familiar. He had heard her talking to him before. But where? What was it that made her voice so familiar. He watched the outline as he started to move again. With agonizing slowness, hoping that whoever it was had not pinpointed him. If they had, then it would be a race to see how got the more accurate shot off first.

"Don't move....We'll be fine...I'll be gone in a minute."

Was this woman a fool? What idiot would believe that?!? She was asking to be shot, or raped... or both. But that voice... he heard it before it was someone important to him.

But whoever it was was moving again, their outline had shifted slightly, widening a little. Mark dropped onto one knee, and took aim. The other figure was rising enough to bring their own firearm to bear. Mark took aim, and squeezed the trigger. One single discharge. It sounded like an explosion in the silence of the night. The muzzle flash lit up the surrounds enough for him to witness the face breaking up under the impact of the round destroying their nose. The head snapped back, giving the body enough momentum to fall backward.

He was on his feet as soon as the flash blindness passed. Not caring about more noise, he scrambled up the rubble, sliding down the other side until he was next to the still twitching body. The man was dead, his heart hadn't been told yet.

Then Mark made the connection.

"Fiona? Fiona! Where are you?!?" He whispered hoarsely. "Christ, Fiona, Ben will be turning in his grave if he knew you were out here alone. Come here, quick, Fiona. Hurry, before the vultures turn up."

 

[Alana_]

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Everything stank of dust...and the limey musty stench of dampness in the broken concrete of the battered buildings. Tilting her head to the side, Fiona watched carefully as the shadow appeared to move very slowly..Or did it?..Was the breeze shifting a piece of useless cladding, ..was it her eyes playing tricks because of her nerves...Was that a hand beginning to raise...She paused..Took aim, and squinted into the darkness, and opened her mouth to call out......

The bang was not a bang...Nor was it a snap, nor pop..It was a roar of such proportions that Fiona almost fell to her knees in pure fright..The grip on her gun tightened, and she swung her hands downwards, having the sense to drop her aim, in case she lost control and shot wildly..But the one single shot from the shadow put and end to her fear of it, and spurred it on to new levels of terror..Something hit the ground behind her on the rubble, and Fiona swung around quickly, but saw nothing in the uneven ground....It did however become apparent, that what ever the shadowed character was firing at, it wasn't her at least.

And only then did the fact that the powerful noise was a powerful weapon dawn on Fiona. He'd killed someone...something...Behind her...Why??...She had drawn her firearm on him, but he'd protected her....Her hands started shaking again, her feet fumbled to retain her balance, as she tried to move...She stumbled, landed on her ass, and tried to back kick further away..Someone else had been there behind her...and the one in the shadows had.........................

She'd no idea why she'd been the recipient of such violent help, ...Yes she knew why..But not why her! And she'd no idea too of how many others were in the shadows...What would Ben do? ....He'd never have gotten them in to this danger, she realized now.

"Fiona? Fiona! Where are you?!?....

Christ, Fiona, Ben will be turning in his grave if he knew you were out here alone. Come here, quick, Fiona. Hurry, before the vultures turn up."

What scared her more she wasn't sure...Knowing another had died, stalking her, ..or hearing her name whispered in the darkness by the very one she'd been aiming at..and hearing Bens name too....Ben..Ben!.....The gun was in her right hand...her left was pressed in to rubble behind her, chaffing as Fiona continued to try to back away...Behind her, she heard the scurrying of feet, the pausing..the shuffling of feet again, and the deathly silence..They were coming already..Those things that were human, but had lost their humanity ..People that would literally sell their souls to survive another minute in this hell.

She had no choice but to crawl.. Her back pack heavy on her back, her knees catching in Bens cloak, as she clambered awkwardly, managing some how, with pure luck not to make any more noise than could be swallowed up in the dunes created by the fallen buildings..

Pulling herself upright, using her left hand to help her, the gun still firm in her right hand..She looked into the shadows, trying to focus on the even darker blackness that swallowed up the whisperer, until she could define his outline..

Ben?...How did you know Ben?

Her whisper was broken, but full of hope , and dust drying her throat, as Fiona checked back behind her seeing so far that no one had appeared over the ridge of rubble..Looking back, she moved a little forward, and came to a chilling stop..
He was military..The shock brought a hopeless sob from her throat..All she could see was the sunglasses and Ben's blood, and the retreat of the Marines back into the truck the day Ben died..He was military...that made him one of them to her...She was alone, and armed , in a war where a bullet could buy you a meal...He was partially covered, but she saw enough that Fiona backed away, whispering, her grief raw, raising her hand, the gun leveled unshaking in his direction..Pure hatred directed to all of the kind that had robbed her of her husband and their little................

You fucking come near me, and I swear, I'll blow your head off..........Or I'll die happy trying.

And before she could debate the wisdom of her action, she ran ...Turned and ran like she was being chased by the very terror that was filling every fiber of her body..Ran in the direction she first had wanted to go, before she'd seen him skulking.....North..Always north...He knew Ben..Her Ben....What would Ben do?? A shot rang out behind her, whipping past her ear..She heard the shouting, the horrible hideous yelps that had somehow been adopted as a cry to inspire fear..It worked..It terrified Fiona...What would Ben do??..What would Ben do?? What would Ben do??





He wouldn't leave him behind...Fiona knew that. She paused, skidding in the dirt, her breathing harsh, dragged from the dust filling her lungs...Turning, she dropped to her right knee, and aimed as the shadows began to fall over the mound like slow creeping infestations....and she screamed with all her might..

Ruuuun!!!!!

...then opened fire on them...She was no great shot, but there was enough of them for her not to have to pick one particular target..She just laced the mound with bullets, the shadows scattering , some falling dead, some diving to return fire if armed...She had never in her life before aimed and fired at another human being..Driven by adrenaline, she didn't look to see if he'd moved...she could only assume he had given the explosion of activity hauling themselves over the mounds..Hearing the gunfire, smelling death, and the spoils earned in the aftermath..They came like giant spiders, scuttling over those Fiona had shot, heading for the shadows to avoid her shots, but right in the direction of the one that had known her Ben.

 

[marauder13]

Mark slid to a halt beside the dying man. He slung his rifle, and took out his bayonet. He rolled the man over so he was head down the slope on his front. Mark finished his off by cutting his throat, making him bleed out quicker.

Mark overrode the natural revulsion he had when it came to rummaging through a body for anything useful. With his free hand, he began checking the body for useful gear. He found the pistol, and quickly checked it. Safety was thumbed on, the magazine and the chambered round were ejected, and the action was slide forward. He put the round into the magazine, and slapped it back into the pistol.

"Damn it," he whispered softly. "Why a fucking 1911?" He found three more magazines, all loaded. He stuffed the spare magazines into spare pockets. He paused when he thought he heard movement close to him. He chambered a round in the 1911 he picked up, and thumbed the safety off. All thoughts of looting the body was forgotten. Once again, adrenaline started flooding his system. For the next 15 seconds his body was on high alert. Everything running at peak performance. His eyesight was sharper, his hearing better, his ability to process information and react to it was improved.

"Ben?...How did you know Ben?"

"Fiona? I went to high school with him. Hell I was at the wedding. It's Mark."

His rapidly beating heart wrenched at the sound in her voice. She was scared, and surprised at his words. His eyesight blurred suddenly, requiring two blinks to clear the excess fluid from his vision. He turned his head slightly, making out what could have been a human head peering over the top of the rubble pile.

"You fucking come near me, and I swear, I'll blow your head off..........Or I'll die happy trying."

It was Fiona looking down at him! He slowly spread his hands, palms down, the pistol pointing away from her and the bayonet clearly in view for her.

"What the fuck? Fiona! I..." He stopped talking realizing how dangerous it was to do that. Talking would alert the vultures, bringing them down on where they were, or Clan raiders. But some thing worse happened. Fiona ran. At least he hoped it was Fiona.

Then all hell broke loose.

A gunshot rang out. Mark flattened himself against the side of the rubble pile. Scrambling sounds escalated nearby. Confederate style 'rebel' yells echoed around him. His eyes flashed around, searching for movement. He strained to hear noises over his heart beat ringing in his ears.

A loud scramble. Rush of air. Movement to his right. Mark threw himself to the ground. The club whistled before thudding into the rubble. Mark rolled, kicking at the darkened mass. Foot met something soft. Whoosh of breath. His arm slashed out with the bayonet. Cloth and flesh cut. Gutteral scream. Club barely missed his head. Rubble fragments did hit. Mark rolled again, over his stomach. Darkened mass lunged for him. Pistol rammed into somewhere, trigger squeezed. Body slumped, blood over his hand and the gun.

He jumped to his feet. Looking around for the best escape route.

"Ruuuun!!!!!" Fiona's voice rang out like the voice of God. Then came a hail of fire. Bullets whistling overhead. Vultures dived for cover with him. First died on the end of the bayonet. Second was shot twice. Yelling. Screaming. Blood splashed his body. Mark was slammed to the sharp rough ground by a snarling person. His head bent sharply by the attempt to rip the helmet off. More screams, Mark's included. Body dragged off him. Fighting. He scrambled up the pile. A face in front of him. He punched it, crawling over the body. Sliding down the pile, he shot at other bodies he could vaguely make out. Most fell, others ran on. Some one in front of him. He shot them, seeing them drop without a sound. He heard bones break and he stepped on the body running past.

Mark paused. Straining to hear. Straining for breath. Someone coming up behind him. He crouched. Follower paused. Moved quietly, slowly. Mark waited. Heart hammering his chest. Pants wet with piss. Deep breath, held, quickly released through the mouth. Head rounds the corner. Handle of the bayonet slammed into the enemy's chin, before the blade digs into the gut. Pistol dropped, top of the shirt grabbed and enemy pulled forward. Bayonet handle turned to the ground, ripping flesh. Rammed up under ribs. Man stiffens, pain and fright clear on face before falling dead.

Pistol and bayonet retrieved. Direction chosen. Mark ran.

"Fiona! For fuck sake don't shoot me. Fiona! Fiona!"

 

[Alana_]

http://i13.photobucket.com/albums/a284/mothermagic/thumb_1868961.jpg

The following minutes were so fast, so riddled with toxic intent, that Fiona's awareness of being petrified was thankfully lost. Around her, all hell seemed to break lose...She was down on one knee in the open, and only the hand of God kept her from being splattered ten different ways with bullets that whipped around her , and the fury of hungry scavengers aimed at her and Mark ..They had so little fear. Blinded by nothing only the warped need to grab anything that was of any value, the shadows screamed, fired, flung anything that they could get their hands at her, and at Mark...

She never saw him...Working all the time on the presumption he was moving, the dust from bullets exploding in dirt rising to the point she was firing blind into it...Jesus Christ, dont let me shoot him.....Somehow, with almost slow motioned ease, she released spent magazines, and reloaded with a fluidity she could at another time be proud of...But she knew....Fiona was fully aware that she was running on nothing only pure terror...Nothing got close enough to make her lose a calm that left her cold...Shock..Thank God for shock!..

"Fiona! For fuck sake don't shoot me. Fiona! Fiona!"

And there he was..Tearing up dirt, racing towards her out of the dust, armed and filthy, fear and fury etched on his face..Ben's friend...She kept firing past him...pausing only briefly to listen ...
They were quiet too..wondering what she and Mark were doing she supposed.......She and Mark had done well enough to make the shadows think a little about following.....That of course, and they had enough of their own now to ravage first as they robbed them of what ever was the currency for today.

Looking at Ben's friend, seeing him clearly , and what she could of his uniform...Why shouldn't she shoot him?...Rising slowly, her nerves bound so tight, she wanted to vomit...It was a feeling she'd grown familiar with in the last couple of years.....But Ben had been with her..There to calm her down, give her his strength, and never ever to have gotten her to this point anyway...She was lost with out him...Lost, still going somewhere, but not with a clue how.

Stepping back from him, the gun still raised....Ben's friend....His face was strained...Like the faces of many now..She remembered him, in the contortions of happier times, and days where friends were friends....Long long ago days...But he wore that uniform...She could see clearly the men folding out of the back of the army vehicle, and the one stepping forward....It had happened with such grace, she'd not thought to really look at the executioners face...The face of that one that ended a beautiful life, and left hers laboring and struggling until she herself had lost a life created and wanted so much, and left her ..behind....She'd been left behind.

His face..she remembered his face..but didn't remember ...Faces now no longer meant much to Fiona....She remembered only those that she had to...Everyone else she was either afraid of, or afraid of her..Her mind didn't allow her to hold memories like before, now...Memories brought pain..Pain brought seeing Ben dead...and feeling their baby go quiet inside her....Keeping her head down, had kept her alive over the last three months, ..not thinking and remembering had kept her sane.
Her gun squarely on him, she continued backing away from Mark...He was after all one of them.! He had to be suspected, feared, hated, tolerated, sympathized with and ........
But he was Ben's friend.

Take that helmet off.......Don't talk about Ben wearing that thing.

She hissed quietly over the thundering of her heart, and the racing surge of blood in her veins...She didn't care if it protected him or not....Didn't care that one of those scavengers could still launch on him....It was going to be left behind , or he would..Friend or not of Bens.....Her mind couldn't process betraying Ben by even breathing the same air as one of the kind that had murdered him, even wearing the uniform insulted his memory...And she would start with the helmet first..Right now!....The rest once they were safe, or until they parted ways. Fiona's eyes brimmed over...Dirty cheeks were streaked, and her throat felt the strangled grip of pain, as she croaked, but swore she'd shoot him dead if he didn't do what she said.

Take.....it....off..........now.!

 

[marauder13]

Mark ran. Focused on the ground ahead. Placing his feet where it would not twist or break ankles. Not lacerate legs. Not impale body parts on twisted metal.

But he also ran towards gunfire. A single shooter. If it wasn't Fiona, he'd kill them. His pistol readied he approached the shooter at a flat run. They were not aiming at him, or they were the worst shot on Earth. He got close enough to make out a vaguely female form, and made the guess that it was Fiona.

It went quiet. Fiona had stopped shooting, and he couldn't hear much over his rapidly beating heart. It meant that they either lost them, or were too busy fighting over their own dead. Either way, they were out of trouble for a little while.

He was bent over partially, trying to control his breathing, and in turn his heart rate. Both of them were making it hard to concentrate and to listen. As it was, he was lucky to hear Fiona move. He turned his head to face her, and he saw the pistol pointed at him. His already empty bladder tried to empty itself again. He watched her stepping back, the pistol pointed at him. She wouldn't miss at that range. The vest's ability to protect him was questionable too.

'Shit! She knows it was me. Oh fuck.'

"Take that helmet off.......Don't talk about Ben wearing that thing."

"Are you fucking crazy? No way on this fucked up Earth am I taking it off while in this place. Between the vultures, clansmen and the decaying buildings, my head's in a lot of danger as it is, and this is keeping it in one piece."

"Take.....it....off..........now.!"

"Or what?" he hissed in a low whisper. "You'll fucking shoot me? Go ahead! Because I'm not shedding a single fucking thing I have. I'm a dead man anyway, once they find out I've deserted." Again, his system was running at top speed. The threat of this woman shooting him for wearing a helmet was too much.

"What the hell is wrong with you? You put your fucking life on the line to save me, so you can do what? Waste a bullet on me? Because if you're wanting to kill me, you're better off -"

He saw the movement behind her. Human. Their arm rising. Pistol in their hand. Mark moved on instinct. Ran to Fiona. Pushed her aside. His own pistol coming to bear. Flash of light. Boom of thunder. Pain in chest. Falling to ground. Nothing but pain before darkness....

 

[Alana_]

http://i13.photobucket.com/albums/a284/mothermagic/thumb_1868961.jpg

The hissed argument that followed over the helmet became a ridiculous requiem in the middle of chaos......Ben's friend's spit fury was sharp, as he refused Fiona's instruction....
No way was he moving one step closer to her, or past her wearing a helmet, in the same moments he'd spoken of Ben...There was no way around the maddening slur for Fiona..Whether the man knew, or cared, he was no friend of her husbands wearing that uniform.

He had deserted...She didn't care at that point....It was a favorable point to him, but she was blinded by the pool of blood where Ben's head lay, and Marines standing preventing help, and protecting that one cold bastard that had executed her best friend.
It ran over and over in Fiona's head like a poison...Over and over she could smell the stench of death and almost tangible sensation of being hit with her own shock.

She was lost...She heard, and didn't hear Mark...The logic in helping him wasn't understood by him, and she was captured by her own flashing confusion between the present and the past...
His voice was quiet in his anger, but it clung to her like a harsh glimpse of reality...Why the fuck had she turned and helped?...

His body hurtling towards her stunned her..She didn't see or hear anything...It was a graphic caption of lazy renderings in slow motion of Mark moving closer, flinging himself at her, his face expressive, his eyes wild, one hand reaching for her to shove, the other clinging to his weapon..

The wind knocked out of her..Fiona lay with her mouth open, gasping, grunting loudly for that pinch of air to reenact her lungs......
All hell had broken lose, as she'd struggled with reasons that shouldn't have to be explained, and grief that shouldn't be felt...
The pain of breathing suddenly pushed her into reality, as one figure loomed over her, looking down, and suddenly aimed right at her face....
Without even being aware of who it was, she whipped her right hand upright, and pulled her trigger, her bullet catching the shadow beneath his chin, exploding into his throat and jaw...Fiona was covered in the sudden warmth of fresh blood and tissue, as she started screaming, and bolted upright her finger seemingly trapped on the same trigger, the bullets firing, her hand raised , metal little death pellets whipping into dirt and anything that happened to get in the way...
Firing until finally the gun clicked empty, and Fiona sat on her knees leaning over, vomiting as pieces of the shadows face seemed to drip from her brown rug like shards of glass....

Mark!!..Where was he?...Looking around, she saw him almost beside her, laying still...Crawling, grabbing his gun, she quickly looked around, before pulling him over...He wore a bullet proof vest beneath the military jacket, and she silently cursed it's logo on his chest...Military spelled ' Ben's killers' no matter who was wearing it, and Fiona got her way..hauling his helmet off and flinging it as far as she could away from her.

Mark!!Mark!!....come on...I can't move you on my own.....Wake up!

It was too dark to see if the vest had failed him..Laying her hand over it and pressing carefully, she could find no wet staining from blood, but that would make sense given the nature of the vest, he'd be bleeding beneath the heavy protection if a bullet had broken past.....No way in hell did she have the time to take the garment off him to check here, not without running the risk of more scavengers arriving , given the gun fire...
Again she looked around..Rising slowly, scanning around her with as much care as she could, Fiona dropped back to her knees..

Listen to me.....Fuck you wake up!!!...We're safe if we can make it out of here..out of the rubble...They won't follow us into the open.....Come on Mark....Please..wake up!!

Only feet away was safety....A wide stretch of road, cracked and broken, but with no shelter...She and Mark would be out in the open, sure..but...so would the scavengers if they followed, and they never did..They were masters in the shadows, but in the open they were just like everyone else..Prey, and easy pickings...If she could get across without some dick with a gun and a lucky shot pinpointing her and Mark, they were safe..

Wrestling him to sit upright, Fiona quickly reloaded, tucked Marks gun into the side of his vest for quick grabbing if needed, and wound his arm around her shoulder...Again rubble started falling in the distance, and she could feel the surge of panic beginning to rise in the sickening pits of her stomach....She pulled him, and braced her feet , her thighs straining...trying to straighten her legs beneath her to stand, but he was too heavy along with her back pack.....Kicking his ankle, wanting Mark to drag his feet beneath him, Fiona sobbed suddenly, whispering pleadingly..

Come on!!.....Move Mark......I need you to move!

 

[marauder13]

The Kevlar vest was made up of layered sheets of Kevlar, a bullet resistant material that worked by transferring energy from the incoming round to a wider surface area, slowing it down, and lessening the direct damage done by the round. So, instead of a lethal penetration, it would result in a much more painful blunt force trauma to a wider area. Of course, the further the round traveled before impact, the less blunt force trauma that is suffered.

Mark was lucky that the last layer of kevlar between the bullet and him was enough for it to stop. Mark's body went into shock at the force of the impact. All non essential systems were shut down while the body dealt with the trauma. Soon, it as determined that the injuries weren't bad enough to warrant long 'down time' and started getting him back and active.

He started to become more aware. He still felt like someone had stomped his chest. Breathing was an exercise in pain management and survival balancing. He was dimly aware that things were different about him, but he could figure them out at that stage. He was trying to figure out what happened. HE saw someone rising behind Fiona, taking aim. He ran forward pushing her aside. The shooter changed his aim before Mark could bring his pistol to bear. Fiona must have killed him.

From a thousand miles away, a voice was heard. It sounded female. It sounded angry, scared.

".....Come on Mark....Please..wake up!!"

His world changed, sudden movement bring pain to his tortured chest, making his lungs feel like they were on fire. He moaned and tried to vomit, but there was nothing there to heave up. His head swam in the ocean of pain, threatening to drag him into the deathly darkness.

"Come on!!.....Move Mark......I need you to move!"

There was the voice again. Fiona. Ben's wife. She was there.

"Fiona," he croaked, "Fiona... I'm sorry... I failed... Ben and... you." It took several failed attempts, but he finally figured out how to control his legs through the pain overload. He managed to take up his own weight, but he still needed support to stop from falling over.

They slowly moved through the rubble. The few yards that they traveled felt like miles. As they reached the edges of rubble, the breeze started to ruffle his damp hair. With that, he snapped himself back to full awareness.

"My helmet? Where's my helmet?" He looked around, grimacing in pain as he turned himself around. "Did you take it off me? Did you? What the fuck were you thinking you stupid bitch?!?" He grabbed the wrist the held the gun and her other arm, dragging her forward, until their noses almost touched. "You listen to me, and you fucking well listen carefully," he hissed at her softly, "you remove and throw away one more thing of mine, and I'll tie you up and leave you for the vultures. You understand that? Nothing! And if I get killed because of your stupidity, I'll fucking haunt you for the rest of your pitiful life." He let go of her and pushed her backward.

Wincing, he knelt down, and quickly peered around the corner of the building. The street was mostly clear of debris, and had the occasional damaged car or truck body lying around. When he brought his head back, he unslung his rifle, and took the safety off.

"Come here, Fiona," he spoke through pain gritted teeth. "Over there, where the main doors would be for the building across the road. You'll run for there while I cover you. Don't run straight. Keep yourself low. And for fuck's sake, focus on where you're going. If someone starts shooting, let me take care of them."

He brought up his rifle, and partially turned the corner of the building. "Go."

 

[Alana_]

http://i13.photobucket.com/albums/a284/mothermagic/thumb_1868961.jpg

Shock and anger combined rendered Ben's friend furious ...His grip was vice like on her wrist, Fiona stunned by the act towards her and the venomous hiss of his warning at her....Ben had never raised his voice nor hand to her from the day they met...nor her father. She had never known being on the end of any mans anger, and Fiona didn't know how to react..

................."you remove and throw away one more thing of mine, and I'll tie you up and leave you for the vultures. You understand that? Nothing!.......................

While not outwardly wide eyed with fear, she was transfixed...It frightened her more than this man, this man that called himself Ben's friend, could be so rough towards her...She didn't move..
She didn't know if she was supposed to, and as Fiona's face paled, and her stomach lurched, the decision was taken from her as fast as the incident arrived...
Mark moved, ...haltingly, and she was glad he hurt..She was glad he felt pain in shifting his position...He wanted to leave her to die..to die with those creatures........Didn't he know that living amongst them was harder than being afraid of them...That dieing was an escape?...That she wouldn't be any longer left behind?...
Her mind contorted, and the logic in Fiona's thoughts snapped and snarled at her in trying to restore common sense....Of course she didn't want to die..Why the hell was she heading north if she wanted to die?.....
Closing her eyes briefly, lowering her head, she inhaled deeply, and slipped her left hand beneath the brown rug to her throat , and found 'it'...Clutching it in her hand, Ben's voice warmed her memory...It's ok Fi...That's my girl. And Fiona's breathing quickened for a moment as raw hurt clutched at her lungs, and then it was gone..

"Come here, Fiona...Over there, where the main doors would be for the building across the road. You'll run for there while I cover you. Don't run straight. Keep yourself low. And for fuck's sake, focus on where you're going. If someone starts shooting, let me take care of them."

Her attention swung back to Ben's friend, and she looked in the direction he indicated..Again , he was...bitingly abrupt with her, with no thought to the fact she'd come this far alone, unhurt...In fact , all the shit only happened after she found him!.
Biting her tongue, keeping her retort to herself, she checked the straps on her waist and across her chest, making sure her vital back pack was secure, and felt her gun nestled into the palm of her hand comfortingly...Bracing to run, one foot slightly ahead of the other, she kept her eyes ahead, not wanting think or see of anything either side or behind her.

Go.

She looked at Mark then.....His profile was strikingly surreal in the carnage around them... ''I'll fucking haunt you for the rest of your pitiful life........'' Her jaw twitched as her sense of unease festered into anger towards him, and Fiona whispered, rocking on the balls of her feet getting ready to sprint..

I'm no ''stupid bitch '' Mark...Don't ever speak to me that way again....

And think about it....if you have deserted, you're only going to attract attention...to both of us....So you will get rid of that uniform...if not out of respect for Ben, then to save your own thick neck.

Bolting from where she stood, the back pack pulling on the skin of her shoulders, Fiona bobbed left and right, staggering her pace between sprinting and shuffling, her back bowed, head kept down as she wove her way across to the remains of a fine building, and the two gaping pillars that used to hold two great doors...No shots, no sound, nothing.

She'd actually expected Ben's friend to take a shot at her, and it would have given her nothing only pleasure to either fire back, or let the fucking bullet eat into her...She was tired..lonely, ..missing Ben and 'baby', and she was just done in doing both..When was it going to get easier?..
Panting...her back pack pressed against the shattered marble tiling of what was the entrance wall, Fiona unclicked her safety, and aimed in the direction of Mark, and anything that would come after him..Squinting, to watch the shadows, she could see no movement from the dunes, and wondered if Mark could see she'd safely made it and was waiting for him.
Then she saw the burst of movement from where he'd been, and could only assume it was him, and Fiona redirected her aim away from the movement, to scan behind from where she'd run, and either side ready to fire if anything so much as budged in the breeze to follow.

 

[marauder13]

He had given her the go signal, but she stalled for a moment.

"I'm no 'stupid bitch' Mark...Don't ever speak to me that way again....

And think about it....if you have deserted, you're only going to attract attention...to both of us....So you will get rid of that uniform...if not out of respect for Ben, then to save your own thick neck."

It took all his training, and a healthy dose of fear to not turn and tell her off before she took off across the road. He watched her out of the corner of his eye. She crossed the road very effectively. He took as much note of her movements as he could without loosing his ability to keep an eye out for enemies. But she made it across the road without a single shot being fired, or anything else happening.

'Great, the she's got an axe to grind over Ben's death. Can't blame her really. But there's a few things she's going to have to learn...'

He rolled back behind 'cover', and got himself more or less upright. His teeth squealed from gritting them so hard against the pain in his chest. He wondered if he should have saved her life or not. He took a long, deep breath, calming himself down. The second man was always the one in greatest danger. The first normally caught the attention, but before they could react, the first man would be safe. He took another deep breath, and started his dash.

His concentration was spread between tracking his target site, looking out for obstacles and tracking cover. All the while ignoring the feeling between the shoulder blades that was anticipating the shot that never came. He had a small fearful moment when he thought Fiona had her pistol pointed at him. But he arrived beside Fiona without getting shot by anyone.

He let out his breath, grimacing at the pain yet again. He looked behind him at the foyer letting his eyes adjust to the greater darkness within.

"Well, that's the easy part done. Now we really get to do the tough stuff. Fiona, hold on to my backpack, but hold it lightly. We're going to find somewhere to hole up for a while. It's a little too busy around here right now to keep moving." Mark started moving into the foyer, taking one step, pausing for a second before taking the next step. His eyes could make out the vague shapes ahead of him, straining to hear sounds over the creaking of the various bits of gear the two of them were carrying. As he suspected, he found the stairwell, and it was intact. He moved past the remains of the door and started to labourious climb up the stairs in pitch black. If his walking was slow in the foyer, it looked like a sprint compared to what he was doing on the stairs.

What felt like hours and definitely three floors later, he moved out into the floor. "Wait here," he whispered to Fiona. Moonlight streaming through the opened side of the building gave Mark enough light to work with, and he spent another 10 minutes sweeping the area before he felt it was clear.

"OK, Fiona, we're alone here. Come over here, I found a good place for us to rest."

He found a sheltered spot and managed to set up some noise making booby traps before he worked on their 'camp site'. He took off his backpack and then unstrapped his vest and investigated where the bullet was lodged. One quick slice and the bullet was liberated. He handed the mushroom shaped lump of metal to Fiona. "You can thank me later."

He sat down gingerly, and took a drink from his canteen. He looked over at Fiona while he fished out his shelter half and sleeping bag. He was trying to think how she would feel if she knew he pulled the trigger that ended her husband's life.

"Fiona... I'm sorry for talking to you the way I did. But I am serious about my possessions. You will not get rid of anything of mine. How would you feel if I started tossing your stuff away? Your cloak, your canteen, your hat...? I know you hate the fucking military. Here's a little heads up for you. I hate them too. And I think I might hate them more than you do. But, I'm not getting rid of a damned thing just yet, Fiona. This gear that you hate so much has saved your life once already. By morning, my entire chest will be black and blue as well."

He rolled out the shelter half, and rigged it as a roof over their hiding hole. He moved back to his gear, flopping down and swearing. The pain brought tears, which brought memories and more tears.

"Do you think I wanted to be wearing this? You have no fucking idea what I went through before they gave this stuff to me. Do you even know what I have been forced to witness and do since then? These fuckers took me in the middle of the night. Recruited me along with nineteen other poor bastards. Three of them were dead within minutes of getting off the truck at the base camp. Dead at the hands of their recruiters. Only six of us made it through basic training. They scared me more than anything else I have faced since. But when I found out about Ben... that was it. They couldn't do anything worse to me. So I left.

"And you want to know another little interesting tidbit of news? The local clans have enough surplus military gear that a Marine or Army patrol can encounter them and think they are military! So, since I'm not with a formal military unit, I am a clansman in the eyes of the Military. Either way, they'll try and kill me. Just how they'll do it will differ.

"Enough of my rambling," he said looking over at Fiona again. "I'd wouldn't mind finding out what's going on with you, but I doubt that you'd want to tell me. Not like you need to talk to me, or anything like that. Not like I was Ben's friend..."

 

[Alana_]

http://i13.photobucket.com/albums/a284/mothermagic/thumb_1868961.jpg

She didn't want to touch him...Holding the strap of his pack was.............betraying what she felt. Fiona knew she was being petty..It wasn't a matter of blaming him for losing Ben..It was all of them...Anyone that was in the military.

Fiona hated them all.

The following minutes passed slowly...Minutes that felt like hours, trailing carefully behind him..stepping Mark's steps, making as little noise as possible...She was hungry..tired..irritable.....and the ache was never far away. That ache that punished her daily, nightly, ..with its raw implication..Never ever to see Ben again. Never. It was a short word, with a long, endless meaning. A nothingness that had no end.

Up the flight of steps she followed..retracing in her mind why Mark bothered her so much...How could she treat him so badly when he was Ben's friend.? The uniform was a huge problem...she knew that...It was a barrier in itself to seeing 'Mark'..
Mark the friend..Ben's friend..

"OK, Fiona, we're alone here. Come over here, I found a good place for us to rest."

What was a beautiful wide hall to stately offices only a few short years ago, was now a dirty collection of broken plaster, marble tiles, and the remnants of paintings and statues..She stepped carefully after him, and went along to where Mark led....As she unstrapped her own pack, he too unstrapped his...She didn't go closer to Mark..Fiona didn't offer to help undo his vest..The logo on his chest was a sneering offense, and as he worked the bullet from its woven protection, she watched the crease on his well worn tshirt, where the bullet had probably bruised his flesh.....Satisfaction shamed her. She didn't like appreciating that he was hurt...she didn't like finding his grimace worthy of her cool gaze, before slowly turning away after he handed her the misshapen bullet..

"You can thank me later."

Fuck you... Later...Later after some rest, she was getting away from him..Getting away from the feeling she'd worked hard to control..Being with Mark reminded her of everything ..Every second..Every blink, breath, hair raising millisecond reminded her of her lost little family.. It was hard..Unreasonably so..

He worked at securing the confines of what was now theirs...She unpacked powered soup, and a small pan for later, when the sun began to rise....Smoke from a fire would attract attention at night..as too would the glow, no matter how careful she was...
What Mark went on to say behind her made sense...He was upset..Saddened in his own grief over his loses, his own pain..his own turmoil..The world seemed to spin on an axis of distress now-a-days..The Fiona of months ago would have been by his side, arguing his corner for him..She'd have , with Ben, insisted that he was listened to..Understood..She'd have looked at his uniform as a cross to bare on his part, and admired him for turning his back on those that had robbed him of his liberty...

But that Fiona was.......lost somewhere in the recesses of her mind. She whispered brokenly, where the Fiona of now roared....There was an inner struggle to find the will to want to survive..not to want to give up..not to be angry with Ben..Ben that had done nothing wrong....only die...and leave her. Ben that knew how to laugh with her..smile when they whispered late at night...
But there wasn't anything to laugh about now..nor smile. Wallowing in grief ate a persons soul...Trying to fight back exhausted a body, and wore down her common sense....

She'd heard of the 'recruitments.' Heard how trained soldiers had become the worst form of mercenary bastardized militia . How men and women died 'training'...Vanishing mysteriously , never to be seen again if they didn't 'graduate'. She felt sorry for Mark....but still despised what he represented , when she remembered those same Marines surrounding her and Ben, and that one..one...one...That one evil bastard that she swore one day she'd come back; when she was stronger..when her heart accepted what her head told her she must..;..to find .

"I'd wouldn't mind finding out what's going on with you, but I doubt that you'd want to tell me. Not like you need to talk to me, or anything like that. Not like I was Ben's friend..."

Her pack sitting on a broken pillar, Fiona slowly unwound her rug, and slipped the folded hood from her head...Her braid was lose, and she unwound the little leather thong, and ran her fingers through the plat, loosening it to fall lose over one shoulder..Resting her hip against the pillar, she reached for her bed roll, and tossed it down at her feet, and pulled a packed of dried jerky from the side of her pack. Looking at Mark, Fiona wanted to spit at him venomously..He wanted to catch up on what was happening with her?...Isn't burying a murdered husband and premature baby enough?

Eat some of this...When it's brighter, I'll light a fire, and warm some soup.

Taking a piece of jerky to chew, she tossed Mark the packet, and sat down with her back against the pillar...Chewing a piece of the dried meat, thinking..trying to find a way around wanting to hate him because of what he wore, and the rational irrationality Fiona was struggling with..She wasn't a bad person...not by nature...She wasn't this solemn bitter young woman, who seemed lost in a grief that was still new...Lost in being afraid all the time...She didn't like pity...or self pity..Fiona was tired of it..She just wanted some peace and quiet..silence..no guns, no bombs, no listening for sounds that one shouldn't have to listen out for..Of ordinary people killing ordinary people for boots..for food....Just to cross a street.
She looked a Mark, and rested her head back against the pillar.. He was as fucked up because of circumstance as much as everyone else....

I lost Ben, and our baby 3 months ago...A day apart..

I'm not..dealing with it very well frankly, so I'm getting out of here.

Anywhere's got to be better than this place...So Im heading north....Supposed to be safe..decent...Sane....
I think it's worth a try , and I've nothing else to lose..

 

[marauder13]

Fiona started to get herself settled. Watching her let her hair down, literally, made her look a lot different. A little nicer. She pulled some other stuff from back pack. But Mark was surprised at the look of pure hatred he got from her after he wanted to know about what was going on. A simple question like that and that's how she reacted.

"Eat some of this...When it's brighter, I'll light a fire, and warm some soup."

A packet of food landed in his lap. Jerky. Not like he had hundreds of those in his backpack already. But it was offered, he would be disrespectful to refuse. He took a piece and lobbed it back to her. She was sitting down, chewing on her food thoughtfully. He left her alone. He didn't care if she spoke or not. She was better off without him anyway. As soon as she found out...

"I lost Ben, and our baby 3 months ago...A day apart..

"I'm not..dealing with it very well frankly, so I'm getting out of here.

"Anywhere's got to be better than this place...So Im heading north.... Supposed to be safe..decent...Sane....
"I think it's worth a try , and I've nothing else to lose.."

The hand with the food in it dropped into his lap. His jaw hung loose and his eyes were wide. I lost Ben, and our baby 3 months ago...A day apart.. Tears filled his eyes, rolling down his cheeks.

"You... you lost... a baby?" His voice was breaking. The pain in his chest was deeper than the one from the bullet. He closed his eyes as the image of that day returned to him with a vengeance. He couldn't breath. He not only killed Ben but his baby as well. "I... I..." He pulled his knees up, putting his elbows on them and his head in his hands while he sobbed. A little boy or girl who never had a chance, all because...

"... those bastards... They just made up... their fucking minds... and Ben... and you... oh my..." Mark cried. Ben promised Mark would be an uncle to any of his kids. He knew that Ben's death cause the loss of the baby. That news tore his heart and soul worse than anything else. His body was wracked by great sobs and cries and he fell onto his side curled up into a ball.

All the pain, terror and self loathing all welled up within him, and overwhelmed him. His fellow recruits that died in the finally half of the training, ones that had bonded together to survive. The loathing he felt for himself over the other people he killed, and why. The various firefights that had him pissing himself or shaking for hours afterward. All of that was locked away. None of it was allowed to be free for fear of what they would do to him. Ben hurt deeply. But the baby... that broke him. He killed the baby. As if he shot it himself.

Nothing else existed for him. Only pain, hatred and self loathing. Nothing else, only him and the foul, cancerous darkness oozing out of his soul. He hated himself so hard, so much, so deeply. He sat himself up, his jaw twitching as he brought his emotions under control. He grabbed the pistol he found on the dead vulture, and thumbed off the safety. He chambered a live round, and inserted the pistol into his open mouth. His trembling hand started to slowly squeeze the trigger...

 

[Alana_]

http://i13.photobucket.com/albums/a284/mothermagic/thumb_1868961.jpg

Tragedy's, were such a normal part of peoples lives , that Mark's reaction wasn't exactly unusual...at first..
He was a friend of a husband that was popular, and loved by everyone that knew him...Ben had been a quiet man..One of those people you saw, but didn't see, but after you spoke with him, you remembered him always....He didn't make people sit up and look at him..he simply seemed to 'be there'...and he was....wonderful.

They'd had a three month courtship, and yes..he'd courted her..With flowers, and wooed her with moonlight picnics because his shift work didn't give him much day time off.. And on the anniversary of their third month, he proposed..Fiona hadn't expected it...but it happened over a pizza, sharing a strawberry milkshake in Luigi's on 54th and 3rd, and she said yes, watched her entire world light up and grow in guise of a truly lovely man... They got married as soon as their license was organized, with a small circle of friends witnessing their vows, and a huge party afterwards where everyone and the world had been welcome.

The gun in Marks mouth drew Fiona back....There was an almost justified pause for thought as she watched him parting his lips, and the muzzle glinting for second before Mark closed his mouth around it.

Let him do it.....He was one of them..''Don't be cruel.....He's Ben's friend......Why's he so sad?''Fuck him......He's ONE OF THEM!..''He's Ben's friend......What would Ben do?''

It didn't feel like she rushed at him...It didn't feel as if she'd taken time to move.....With a bullet ready to shatter the back of Marks skull, she didn't have the time to waste, so in retrospect, as she raised her hand and pushed Mark's forehead roughly, Fiona surmised she must have moved startlingly fast.

Hitting Mark with the heal of her hand square in the forehead, snapping his head back away from the muzzle, not touching his hand or fingers, she pushed his armed hand out of the way...Landing half kneeling on his thighs, trying to balance herself, Fiona gently then wrapped her hand around Mark's wrist, to firmly attempt to move the gun to one side , to safety..Her voice was kind...soft, despite the turmoil of the moment, and Marks obvious destitute distress..

I remember.........You wore a pale blue shirt, and a tie with little navy doves....Tiny things...but they were doves.

Moving carefully, she shifted to sit on her knees facing him, and quietly continued speaking...Her hand over Mark's wrist, the gun resting on her lap..She didn't try to take it from him..she didn't want to emphasize the need for her own caution by removing his weapon...Letting him retain it..for now ensured Mark's ...pride and her figurative trust in him.

You were with a red haired girl.....I dont know if she was a date, or a girlfriend, but I know Ben teased you about being next up the aisle..

She drifted a little bit then....Back to the parish hall at the back of St. Michaels Church, where everyone had come for a celebration ...before an unknown hell on earth broke out only a year later.
Chinese lanterns hung outside, and inside the ceiling of the vaulted hall was dressed in muslin and fair lights...Summer flowers were in vases on each window sill, and garlands were curled around the front of all the tables..

A band had played until 11, and a dj from a local club had set up, and had began playing love songs, and all the couples were huddled together slow dancing...Ben never left her side, his arm around Fiona's waist, and seemingly constant flow of loving whispers and kisses shared between them..They'd danced for hours, sharing happiness other with friends, and swapping 'remember whens'.....It had been a simple, but splendid wedding , with the entire focus on friends and family getting together......
Fiona had come from the east coast, so her guests consisted mostly of friends...Good friends..Friends that had been delighted for her.......Mark had danced with one of them...Claire......Until the redhead had made a move on him, and claimed her date back..That was the last time Fiona had seen him...............Waiting on the world to change was, in a cruel irony, playing when she and Ben said their goodbyes, and drove way from waving friends, in his classic red Lancia..A brute of a car, but Ben had loved it.....They didn't drive off in to the sunset to a happy ever after....They drove around the block, back to his place...and for their own little honeymoon in bed that creaked and groaned into the small hours...They then spent two days moving Fiona in, making his place 'ours' , ...and...........

Put it down Mark........I don't think I'll walk out of here if you do that....I can't take much more.....Please don't.....We're all we've left of good memories. Lets not let a bad one our last.

 

[marauder13]

Mark felt the pain of the blow to his forehead as well as the scraping of his teeth on metal as the gun came out of his mouth. He was aware of his hand moving away, and something in his lap. There was nothing else. No thoughts. No emotions. Just a deep, black emptiness that sucked everything out of him.

Words. A voice. Pressure on his legs. His eyes were focused on what was in front of him, but the brain did nothing with the information.

He jumped out of the back of the truck, taking up his assigned position. He looked at the rebel sympathizer, squatted down next to a seated woman. Odd, but not his concern. He was to execute the sympathizer. But this time, they both looked straight at him. His face full of sadness and pity. Hers with loathing and disgust. His recruiting Sergeant yelling in his ear to just gently squeeze the trigger. Mark closing his eyes and squeezing the trigger. Opening them, he looked on the small bloodstained mess that was their child...

He closed his eyes, trying to erase the image from his mind. Purge the horrible thoughts and images from his mind. He opened them to see where he and Fiona had made camp. He felt her hand on his arm, pistol clenched tightly in his hand, resting in her lap. The echoes of her voice playing in his head, too soft and garbled to remember or hear. The memory of his overwhelming desire to end it all, to pay for what he did.

"Put it down Mark........I don't think I'll walk out of here if you do that....I can't take much more.....Please don't.....We're all we've left of good memories. Lets not let a bad one our last."

He turned his head slowly, as if he had trouble remembering how to do it. He was going to leave her too. Abandon her after all he did that ruined her life. He looked at her pain etched face. He looked for the light that should have shone in her eyes. A light he knew was gone.

His hand let go of the pistol, letting it slide to the floor. The warmth of her hand on his wrist reminded him of the simplest thing in the world he needed. He pulled his wrist from her grip slowly, afraid she break. He kept his eyes on hers, looking at them, looking through them, looking into nothingness all at once.

He leaned forward, wrapping his arms around Fiona, softly crying, letting the tears wash away the accumulated pain since he was recruited.

"Fiona... please forgive me for not being able to do anything. If you can find it in your heart..." He held onto her, drawing strength, comfort and healing from the simple contact with another human being.

 

[Alana_]

http://i13.photobucket.com/albums/a284/mothermagic/thumb_1868961.jpg

There seemed to have been a mutual need shared, and experienced between them then. Mark was gentle...Gentler than Fiona would have expected..He held her, and she could feel the thud of his heart against her chest, the warmth of his body filtering through their light tshirts.....and his tears dampening the side of her neck, as he appeared to find some form of succor in being held.
And it was then, that Fiona realized his embrace was returned...She'd needed to hold on..and be held too. She'd needed closeness..the companionship of arms, and the breathing life of someone holding her tightly...There was a barrenness in her arms the last months , and briefly it felt good to know the sensation of a warm body close ..

There were no tears on her part...She was cried out long ago...Quiet..She wanted quiet...and she found it for a little while as he cried , and filled the sounds around them with muffled sobs..
Fiona just held on, listening to a sound that wasn't violent, wasn't horrid, wasn't harmful....it was quiet, in a grief that he'd experienced himself..She didn't question the reason why Mark's pain ran so deep..
She didn't feel it at all strange that a friend of Ben's might bare such hurt because of his loss...Ben was that kind of person that when made a friend of, he was...a true friend.

"Fiona... please forgive me for not being able to do anything. If you can find it in your heart..."

Forgive him?...He was one of them.....But ...but.....but.......He was Ben's friend......What would Ben do?.....Fiona knew...Ben would open his heart to his friend, and grieve with him for losses shared, experienced, and the fears that robbed the world of just being....normal..
Could she do that?..Could she look at Mark, and look past the uniform; ...the memories;...that one shot that ravaged her life of its joy?.....Could she forgive the grief, that had had to be forgotten in the early hours the morning after Ben died when her pains began.......and everyone fought....tried their best...prayed..hoped...that Ben's baby would be ok. Could she forgive that loss?.....She didn't know...In all honesty she just didn't know.....
But because he was her husbands friend....she was going to try.

Sssssh.....It wasn't your fault...You weren't there........You did nothing wrong....You weren't there....You weren't there.

And she didn't let go.

It felt ...normal to be held again....Even if it wasn't Ben...It still felt calming..soothing....good....warm....soul refreshing , to be....just held. And it felt wonderful to have that vacancy in her arms filled, and to feel breath against the soft skin of her cheek, and to hear Mark breathing close to her ear..
Breath that wasn't a terrified panted gasp, ..or for her to react in fear because someone was too close to her....
No, this was......This was......This was....And her heart itself sighed then at the wistful warmth of a little closeness being shared...no matter what the reason..
This was...good.

Don't cry sweetie..Please don't cry anymore.

Come on...Lets get a little fire going, and have that soup, hum?....Please don't cry Mark..Please don't.

 

[marauder13]

She held him. No screaming, yelling, irrational demands. She just held him. Mark never felt so safe as he did right then. He distanced himself from who it was, and why they were. He focused on the being held.

Being safe, he could finally open up and release the emotions he had locked down. Quietly, he allowed himself to mourn the loss of his friend and the child that Ben never got to see. There was no further crying, no more tears. All of that was done. The huge knot in his stomach unwound, making him feel better immediately.

"Don't cry sweetie..Please don't cry anymore.

"Come on...Lets get a little fire going, and have that soup, hum?....Please don't cry Mark..Please don't."

Mark held her while he took a few deep breaths. He let go of her slowly, pausing to give her a quick peck on the cheek. He rested against the wall, his body's pain now coming to the fore again.

"Thank you, Fiona. Ben was a lucky man... Sorry. I didn't mean... I just wanted... wanted to let you know... how special you are. You... helped me a lot just then."

Mark shed the jacket, then carefully opened up his shirt. The right side of his chest was already starting to darken from the impact. He probed the area, gritting his teeth with each push. By the time he was finished, he was sure that he had not suffered any broken, or fractured, ribs. He did up his shirt, letting the pain ease.

He reached over to his backpack, and pulled out a small metallic box. "If you're going to cook, use this." He grabbed each end of the box, and opened it up into a rough "H" shape. Inside the box was a block of waxy material.

"A minature, portable stove. Smokeless flammable material, like a fire starter. Light it up, put the pan over the flame, and away you go. Perfect for times like these. Plus, you can cut up the block so you don't waste any of it. So something like soup, you'll need between a quarter to a third of the block." He held the box out for Fiona.

"I'm happy to stay around with you as long as you want. I'll help out as best as I can while I'm here."

 

[Alana_]

http://i13.photobucket.com/albums/a284/mothermagic/thumb_1868961.jpg

"Thank you, Fiona. Ben was a lucky man... Sorry. I didn't mean... I just wanted... wanted to let you know... how special you are. You... helped me a lot just then."

The kiss to her cheek was friendly...a platonic gesture Fiona oddly enough appreciated..Somewhere in the last minutes, a barrier had dropped...Mark was Mark..Not just the wearer of a uniform...A uniform forced upon him..He was Mark..Ben's friend. Fiona smiled, and felt a little ashamed at how her hate had confuse her....Maybe shame was a good sign..If she wasn't hating him, being irrational, then maybe shame at least was an emotion that signaled a little turning in point for her in the sadness of her mind. A sadness that had almost drove her mad, and left her ....beyond lonely.

His chest..Marks chest bore the impact from the bullet to his vest..For the next day or two, it was going to be sore...maybe even sorer. She felt compelled to help, but ....she held back....and just watched.
He was managing on his own, despite the blackening bruise forming..What had happened in the previous minutes had forged a little union between them, but Mark was still Ben's friend....not really yet Fiona's...She did however see;...how ever disinterested she was; ..that Mark was, a particularly striking specimen of a man..Looking down, reaching for the pan and dried soup, Fiona chided herself for even noticing him. But she still , smiled. It was nice to notice...and not feel uncomfortable. It was nice to feel almost...normal.

The gift of using Mark's portable stove was a huge advantage...almost a treat. They were a rarity on the black market..One item that no one was prepared to trade.

"I'm happy to stay around with you as long as you want. I'll help out as best as I can while I'm here."

Following Marks instructions, Fiona didn't reply to Mark straight away....The pot was soon sitting on the low flame, and Fiona sat watching it for a while thinking..remembering. Such a small little item reminded her of cooking properly at home..Home had been after the first year of their marriage a lovely little three bedroom house, in a working class neighborhood. They'd had less than one year there before all hell broke loose. The war didnt happen in degrees..It just .....exploded across the entire world, with out boundaries, with out respite given for civilians...They'd moved to evacuate as ordered, and in the coming days were forbidden to leave the city, the military deeming it safer in the shelter of buildings that soon after were flattened, trapping the very people that had tried to leave..Their car was commandeered, and bank accounts frozen, and bit by bit their possession were sold or swapped, ...and on occasion , stolen.....Not just for Ben and Fiona...It had happened to everyone...Markets crashed, money meant nothing..You had a bigger chance of buying food if you had an item to barter..boots..a coat..Or God forbid, medicine.

Mark ....I'll be moving on in the morning...We're close to the city limits, and...and....I really have to go. ..

She bit her bottom lip, and stirred the thick vegetable soup, the aroma beginning to warm the air around them, and looked over to Mark as she sat back on her heals...

They're going to kill you if they find you........

It was said flat...matter of factly...He'd more than likely, if captured alive, be executed publicly as an example, and Fiona know that..She'd seen enough men and women dragged out, and shot like animals in areas that the military knew was full of hiding civilians..

Why don't you come too?.........You've no ties here have you?.......And we can always go our separate ways if ..we...we..Well...you know.......If I drive you nuts.

 

[marauder13]

Mark watched as Fiona started cooking the soup. Because of the shelter half, the aroma was locked into their little sleep spot. The aroma of the soup propelled him back to when he was a teenager, still living at home. His mother would make her own vegetable soup from scratch. Nothing ever tasted like it since. He missed her. She had the good grace to fall asleep one night seven years ago, and never woke up. She just passed away quietly, no one the wiser until the morning. It was a shock, but she missed out of seeing all this shit happen.

Now the widow of the man he executed... no, Ben was murdered. Ben's widow was now making him soup, soup that smelled more heavenly than his mother's. He sat in the carcass of one of the nation's metropolis, while the previous occupants resembled parasites on its remains. He wondered how it all came to pass in such a small time. How people, like him, could descend so far.

"Mark.... I'll be moving on in the morning...We're close to the city limits, and... and.... I really have to go. .."

He looked back over at her, seeing her looking back at him.

"They're going to kill you if they find you........"

"Yes," he replied with a flat, matter of fact tone. He took his bayonet out, and mimicked it being dragged across his throat. "I'll be tied up wrist and ankle, completely naked and kneeling in front of the entire camp. They wont even waste a bullet on me, nor let any of my gear get messed up. Then they'll take my corpse and dump it in 'the hole' until such time as it's full enough to bury them."

He had seen it often enough. He'd even dragged off the bodies on occasions. Watching the dogs, wolves and one one occasion a bear, dodging the new corpse as it landed there.

"Why don't you come too?.........You've no ties here have you?.......And we can always go our separate ways if ..we...we..Well...you know.......If I drive you nuts."

"Well, I was on my way out of here too. But I was going somewhere else first. I need to do a little shopping, as it were. Who am I kidding? I was going to raid a cache that I helped set up. Steal some ammo, spare boots and clothing and anything else useful in there. As you said, they'll kill me anyway, so what's another capital crime?

"I'll be back in a few minutes." Mark stood up slowly, taking the pistol with him as he headed out of their little campsite. He avoided the warning devices he set up and he made his way over to the other side of the building. He found a spot that served his purposes well, and defecated. While his bowels emptied, he thought about Fiona's offer. To have companionship again... human contact. Fellow marines didn't count as human from that point of view. That would be good to just be with someone. Hopefully she'd get past her hating him for being Military, and trying to have him get rid of his stuff.

He took of the small bit of rag he had for this kind of activity, and cleaned himself before covering up his waste. He wandered back, carefully avoiding making any of the wrong type of noise as he got closer.

"Humpty Dumpty sat on the wall,
"Humpty Dumpty had a great fall,
"All the King's horses and all the King's men,
"Had scrambled egg for breakfast again."

He wandered back to where he was had been sitting. "Thank you for not shooting me."

 

[Alana_]

http://i13.photobucket.com/albums/a284/mothermagic/thumb_1868961.jpg

With Mark gone, Fiona continued stirring, staring into the pot..An early breeze shifted the over head covering slightly, and reminded her of happier times with her parents..Thank God they'd long passed away, and had never known the horror of the war..

In particular Fiona thought of her Mother Helen..She'd been from a well to do family, and her marriage to Fiona's Dad Danial, had surprised many..He was a mechanic, and Helen was used to living in a house that had housekeepers and gardeners, and all that changed because she married a man who didn't have a bank account to meet such a lifestyle...
Fiona smiled as she remembered her mother sharing stories with her about when she and Dan had first got married, and she'd was trying to learn the basics in cooking....
After weeks of burning pots, and Dan lovingly eating the charred remnants of his dinner, Helen, finally mastered cooking stews..And for the next three months, Dan had been presented every evening, with everything and anything she could stew, until he pleaded with his young wife to expand her skills just a little bit further..

Her father would have survived the broken landscape that was now the remains of the city....but not Helen..She who kept her small , but lovely home perfectly..
She who loved her trips to the salon and polishing her nails..Her mother would have simply disappeared , into her own inner fear never to be seen as Helen again..
She was...a beautiful elegant feminine woman, with limited strengths of character....and the pain and suffering, with the fears and sorrows of all around the, would have killed her.

.............................."Had scrambled egg for breakfast again."

"Thank you for not shooting me."

Fiona swung around on one heal, and looked up from her squatting position startled..Her mind had drifted again, and she'd not heard Mark coming back. She was going to have to ......be far more careful!...
Nodding, hating the feeling of being.....inadequate, or...careless, she reached for the two small tin dishes that doubled as plate and bowl, and served the soup into each..They'd both had two small portions, and carefully handed Mark over his with his spoon, and smiled almost apologetically..

We used to get crusty french bread rolls from Framini's....I wouldn't even know when I've seen clean usable flour last.

I miss bread.......And the smell of clean sheets...I'd not even want the bed, just the clean sheets..

Her smile lingered a little longer, as she allowed the little flame to flutter and die, before she sat back against the cool wall, enjoying the warmth of the soup...Mark was watched..but not....not ...in a bad way...Fiona was at ease with him ...more accepting...and she could see her husbands friend more clearly.

Did you ever see her again?......The red head from our wedding?..........The one with the grip of death on your arm when another woman was around?

 

[marauder13]

Mark watched Fiona check their soup, and served it up. He found his mouth watering in anticipation of the food. What made it better was the smile he got from Fiona. It made her look pretty.

"Thank you, Fiona." He took a small taste, enjoying it more than he thought he would. It was soup, from a packet. Nothing special. But the taste...

"We used to get crusty french bread rolls from Framini's....I wouldn't even know when I've seen clean usable flour last.

"I miss bread.......And the smell of clean sheets...I'd not even want the bed, just the clean sheets.."

Mark ate his soup. He could have commented about getting fresh bread when at camp, and other staples that Fiona probably hadn't had in ages. But he thought better than mentioning the 'benefits' of a military lifestyle.

"Did you ever see her again?......The red head from our wedding?..........The one with the grip of death on your arm when another woman was around?"

"Hmmm? Oh, Lara? Yes. We dated for a few months. She was very hooked on me and I will admit I was growing to like her a lot too. She managed to land a job up north that was perfect for her. She wanted me to come too. So, I looked around to see if there were any teaching jobs there. But there weren't any. We promised to keep in touch, which we did for a month or two, but the tyranny of distance killed things for us. So, we both decided it was a good thing to let go. We traded the occasional email, just to let the other know that they were alive and doing well, and you know..."

Mark ate more of his soup, thinking back to the reception. Lara had been in one relationship before hand, and almost committed herself to him, but she found out that he was sleeping with another woman. It scarred her deeply. It also made her a little possessive at first. Mark had won her over, showing that he was reliable, and trustworthy. She was the most tender of lovers, as well as a wildcat when the mood struck. In some ways, he hoped she was dead, and not living in the same type of hell hole he was.

He finished the soup, managing to get just about every last morsel out of the tin bowl. He washed it down with a mouthful of water from his canteen. He took a deep breath while he looked over at Fiona.

"It must be a function of the company, but I haven't had something that nice in ages." He paused for a while, thinking about nothing in particular. "I'll come along with you as far as you'd like. But before we leave here, I need to raid that cache. There'll be lots of useful gear in there that can be used for trade, if not for actual use. Some extra guns, ammo, that kind of thing. They're not usually guarded, because that's a tip off to everyone that something important is there. The cache is normally accessed during a sweep of the area, so the vultures and others aren't around to see what's going on.

"The good news is it's a few blocks away from here. There will be a little backtracking done, but nothing major. After that, we can head out of here. How does that sound?"

 

[Alana_]

http://i13.photobucket.com/albums/a284/mothermagic/thumb_1868961.jpg

It was a simple meal, and conversation was easy, with Mark filling her in on Lara 'the redhead'. Fiona ate quietly, listening, and found the fact that he'd been in a good relationship somewhat strange..
It didn't fit with the image she had of him..Of a Marine in world left with little affection for anyone...Thinking back to 'before' was hard. It was almost like her life with Ben didn't exist , that their life, their happiness, their home hadn't ever been. And it applied to Mark..She knew she'd met him before at her wedding, but........that was before and the 'now' was crueler, colder, scary...with no normality left for couples, or people hoping to find a future with someone. That kind of thing happened only to the lucky...or the forced. And being forced into a traded relationship out of a need to survive made her feel ill.

"I'll come along with you as far as you'd like. But before we leave here, I need to raid that cache. There'll be lots of useful gear in there that can be used for trade, if not for actual use. Some extra guns, ammo, that kind of thing. They're not usually guarded, because that's a tip off to everyone that something important is there. The cache is normally accessed during a sweep of the area, so the vultures and others aren't around to see what's going on.

"The good news is it's a few blocks away from here. There will be a little backtracking done, but nothing major. After that, we can head out of here. How does that sound?"

The word backtracking chilled her briefly...Anything that meant going back, was upsetting, frightening, and cheated her of the tentative distance she'd covered.
But.........having things to barter, to trade, was important..Simply important....Her supplies were fine for her alone food wise when she'd prepared her pack originally, and she had a decent supply of ammunition, but having Mark with her meant company..
It meant sleeping and feeling a little safer. And..he was Ben's friend... A welcome link . And there was the psychological boost about having something worth trading..It took the desperation out of the pit of a body's stomach.

It sounds fine........I'll be glad of the company......No..I'll be glad of your company Mark.............

She rinsed the pan and two bowls with bottled water, and left them to air dry. Taking off her boots, she wiggled her toes and sighed as one toe poked out through a pair of socks that had seen better days.

Ok...I'll trade my left foot to anyone for a never before worn sock for my right foot. Just once it would be nice to be able to hook up with a market and not have to settle for taking what I need instead of what I want.

Fiona looked at Mark then, and lay back with her head against her pack, her hands crossed on her tummy..
She smiled, shrugged a little and relaxed..The feeling wasn't one she was familiar with recently..Smiling wasn't something that she'd done a lot of, even before Ben died..Fear killed smiles, and daft chats..She missed the dumb conversations about nothing, instead of letting the serious talking about keeping safe exhaust her night after night..

What completely frivolous thing do you miss most..? Seriously..I mean a little 'luxury moment' useless something..Nothing that you'd need, but you'd still want if you could get it?...For me, it's hand cream..coco butter hand cream ..Any brand, I'd not care, but gosh I'd love a little pot, and to smell nicer than 'fucked city'.

 

[marauder13]

Something about what he said made Fiona flinch. He hadn't been paying enough attention to know what it might have been that set her off. He ran his words through his head again, the only thing that could have made her react like that was 'backtracking'. Even then, he could not be sure. But then, she started to calm down again, so he thought he might have been mistaken.

"It sounds fine........I'll be glad of the company......No..I'll be glad of your company Mark............."

That made him smile a little. He would really like her company too. A nice link to better times. He remember fondly when Ben spoke of the fantastic woman he had met. 'The one' he had said. Mark laughed at the tales of what he did to win her heart, how he couldn't stop thinking of her, how he wanted to marry her.

"You want to what?" Mark's eyes widened as he leant forward over the table.

"Marry her. I'm going to ask her tomorrow night. It'll be three months exactly."

"You remember that little agreement we made at the end of High School, don't you?"

"Oh, shit... Mark! No! Don't even think of it."

"Sorry, Ben, I made a solemn vow, as did you. I will not dishonour that by backing out."

Ben and Mark scrambled out of their chairs, Mark dashing around the kitchen table, dragging Ben down in the middle of the living room. After a brief struggle, Mark was straddled across Ben's chest and arms.

"Are you sure you want to marry this woman, Ben?" When Ben nodded, he kept his eyes closed as Mark started to slap him across the face. "Ben, is this woman really worth it?" More affirmation followed by more slapping. More questions, followed by even more affirmations followed by even more slapping. "Ben, your hurting my hands here. Damn it, she must be worth it then. All right. I have fulfilled my vow to the best of my ability, having not factored in how hard headed your are, literally and figuratively."

Mark helped his red faced friend off the floor with a stupid smile on his face matched by Ben's. The pair walked back into the kitchen to finish their beers.

When Mark returned form his trip down memory lane, he saw Fiona take her boots off, and the toe poking through the sock, he grinned.

"Hand it over, Fiona. I'll patch it for you. If you keep wearing it like that, soon all five of your toes will be poking through."

"Ok...I'll trade my left foot to anyone for a never before worn sock for my right foot. Just once it would be nice to be able to hook up with a market and not have to settle for taking what I need instead of what I want."

"Careful what you wish for, Fiona. You just might get it."

"What completely frivolous thing do you miss most..? Seriously..I mean a little 'luxury moment' useless something..Nothing that you'd need, but you'd still want if you could get it?...For me, it's hand cream..coco butter hand cream ..Any brand, I'd not care, but gosh I'd love a little pot, and to smell nicer than 'fucked city'."

"Oh, that's easy. Ice cream. Just plain, ordinary ice cream. Mmmmmmm.... The last time I had any was when I took my class to the Zoo. Nothing worse than a coach full of sugar high eight year olds after a long day staring at animals. Damn I miss those kids.

"Pass me that sock, and I'll mend it while you get some sleep."

 

[Alana_]

http://i13.photobucket.com/albums/a284/mothermagic/thumb_1868961.jpg

"Oh, that's easy. Ice cream. Just plain, ordinary ice cream. Mmmmmmm.... The last time I had any was when I took my class to the Zoo. Nothing worse than a coach full of sugar high 8 year olds after a long day staring at animals. Damn I miss those kids.

"Pass me that sock, and I'll mend it while you get some sleep."

Fiona sat back up, taking her sock off, and tossed it in Mark's direction...Dragging her well worn wax jacket from behind her, she covered both feet with it, and lay back again. Arms crossed across her chest, it was an almost strangely normal feeling to be chatting....and having her sock stitched.

He was a teacher....It surprised Fiona,.. and yet didn't. He was a man that was caught in a horrible contradiction..Now a military man, in a military that was now more murderous than protective, it some how emphasized how cruel the world had become..That a teacher of young children, was now one of 'them'.

Yeah...I miss ice cream too.....Ben and Jerry's plain vanilla.

Every second Saturday night, when Ben wasn't on call at the fire house, they'd hire out a couple of their favorite movies, get a bottle of wine, a chinese, and Ben and Jerry's to share . He'd tease her for making him eat junk food, and Fiona would offer him an apple, offering to 'dispose' of the junk all on her own. To which, he'd insist on doing the gentlemanly thing, and help her.
Every time it was the same..She got the blame for their little pig out, and he'd be the one trying to convince her she was full, so he could have more for himself..

Hot apple pie...With ice cream.

She sat up again, watching Mark with her sock, and nodded to it, resting her elbow on her knee, and her chin in her hand..

Thank you for doing that. One thing I could never do was sew.....
I'll tell you what...If we find some flour before we leave the city perimeters, the first time we find an orchard out the country, I'll bake you an apple pie for doing that.

Mark was....a handsome man. There was no way around it. She guessed, if he was Ben's friend, he was maybe 31 or 32...or there abouts. Loving a husband , grieving for him, missing him and their child, didn't leave her blind. It didn't mean Mark was a man that might have ever interested her, but.......she wasn't blind to the fact he was a very good looking man......even dressed as one of 'them'.

Thank you.

For being Ben's friend.. For being company to me....For my sock.... She felt a little melancholy then. Not quite sad....More guilty,.. almost apologetic for feeling a little break in the dismal misery of being widowed of an adored husband and never knowing their little boy. Would she ever know what it was like to be happy again? No..not like before. Never like before..........But..you DO have the right to find a new happiness and make that yours.

Don't stay awake too long... Won't feel until it's night fall again, and we can move.

Fiona lay back, and turned on her side..Her jacket keeping her legs and bare foot warm, and she listened to him, and the sound of the canvas sheet flapping gentle over head...
This was different..She wasn't going to sleep afraid and alone. It was the first time since the last night she'd spent with her husband. He'd just heard of the hope in the 'North', and wanted them to head that way, soon as the baby was born....To start over new, and safe...Where would they be now?...On the way?.She, Ben and ...................
Her eyes glistened, and Fiona stared into nothing, allowing herself one sweet memory of Ben before she blinked slowly and drifted towards sleep whispering..

I miss him Mark. Dreadfully....
Should...never...have....happened. Never.