HOW CAN I HELP HURT YOU?
I don’t see the sun. The sky is there—or at least I think it is—but there is no sun. The day my planet cracked, burned, and spun, we lost our sun. I can’t even imagine it coming back. If I’m being honest, I can’t imagine much of anything right now.
Hope is a distant memory, as day flows into night, with no sense of time. The numbers on my watch just spin, no doubt a side effect of the electric shockwaves that shook the world when it split. We never knew this was how most of us would go. We never imagined a world when all the things that helped us would now harm us. We never cared about what we did to this place we called home. Until it was too late.
People talked of war and weapons, evil dictators, and how the world would end in shows of senseless violence. That’s not what happened. Not even close.
Drilling, and stripping the planet of its resources cracked the very core of Earth. Countries full of electricity cracked, while oceans and rivers flowed, causing the electrocution of entire populations of people. Landlocked cities fared no better, with electric storms prowling the deserts, searching for their victims, and picking them off one by one.
I survived, but I don’t know how or why. I was lucky enough to dodge the electric lightning strikes that seemed to have a mind of their own. But then again, maybe I wasn’t so lucky.
The first few days on the farm were easy. There was fresh, dead meat, and fires everywhere to cook it on. The stream that overflowed still had clean water, and I had a mattress that was okay to sleep on.
Things are no longer okay, though, and I know I have to travel to the city. I must know if others survived, and work to keep surviving myself. There’s only one problem—the machines. The cars, the carving knives, the blenders, the everything electronic. Something happened to all of it when the world ended, and all the things we depended on to make our lives easier are now killing us.
The first night, when my cell phone shocked and burned me, I thought it was a fluke. Now, I know it’s not. Not after the dishwasher in the middle of the yard opened on its own and started shooting dishes and cutlery my way. Not after the truck with no wheels came scraping across the ground faster than I could run, and plowed right over me. The world was not safe from humans when it was whole, and now… now it’s not safe from what we created.
***
I walk along the deserted highway, favoring my good leg, while using a tree branch as a makeshift cane. Getting run over was no picnic, and I got sick many times while pushing my bones back inside my skin and gluing the wounds together. Thank God for my backpack. I haven’t let go of it since this all began, and the tube of super-sticky glue I’ve kept in there for years. I wouldn’t be walking now otherwise.
There wasn’t much to do with my broken cheekbone, but vanity left me days ago, when hope was all but lost. Survival is all that matters now.
I pass bodies on the road, more bodies than I could ever count. There are lovers locked in embraces, families holding hands, and others who died alone. As all birds and other wildlife are gone, there is no way for me to tell if they all died together, or at different times. A forensic scientist could tell, but as I didn’t even finish high school yet, I’m not qualified to make those kinds of assumptions. I only see what I see.
Frozen faces, broken bones, dried blood and organs outside of bodies. I see it all, and it does nothing to me. I feel nothing as I walk through this highway of horrors. None of it matters to me, because I can’t allow it to. If I stop and think about it all, I’ll break. I will fucking fall apart, and not be able to go on. That simply isn’t an option.
I see the handheld tablet flying through the air a moment before it hits me. That moment is enough for me to turn my back, and duck my head. Yes, my head hurts as it grazes it sharply, but I know it would’ve lodged in my throat if I hadn’t moved. As it is, I watch in horrified fascination as it impales an already dead body. Blood leaks out, turning everything around the body crimson.
Blood is trickling down the side of my head where I was clipped, but I just wipe it away before it gets in my eyes. There’s nothing more to do right now, and maybe not ever. Are any doctors even alive, and if they are, are they following that oath they took, or just looking out for themselves? As I’ve seen no one alive yet, I don’t know. I don’t know what to fear, and what to embrace. What to trust, and what to run from. I know everything I’ve learned in life, and it is all irrelevant now.
***
There are no signs of life as I continue my journey toward the city. Some buildings still stand, and as when life was still “normal,” they look closer than I know they are. I have miles to go before I get to them, and I won’t allow myself to be fooled into thinking otherwise.
The water bottles I brought with me are emptying faster than I thought they would, but I don’t trust the water around me, as it flows over dead bodies and structures that succumbed to the battle against the world itself. I should still have enough to make it these last few miles, and I’ll keep telling myself that until they’re gone.
“Help. Please help me,” I hear as I pass by a mound of rubble.
It’s a girl’s voice, a living person, and yet, I almost don’t stop. I believe so strongly that it’s me against everything—and everyone else—that I almost ignore a cry for help. Almost.
“Where are you?” I call out in a scratchy voice I barely recognize as my own. The lack of use has made my vocal chords rough.
“Here. Over here. Please.”
I follow the voice to the other side of the broken concrete, to see a girl around my age crouching there. Her face is bruised and bloody, and one of her arms is in a makeshift sling, but otherwise, she looks okay.
“What happened to you?”
“The same thing that happened to you, I’m guessing,” she says, looking me over with a discerning eye.
“Probably.”
I’m being cautious, because I don’t know her. Even if I’d known her before, I wouldn’t trust her now. Something in me wants to, but I give it a mental push back down.
“Are you going to the city?”
“Yes. I can’t live out here alone. No one can.”
“We need resources.”
“We?”
“Won’t it be better to be together? To watch each other’s backs and search together?”
“Maybe.”
“I’m not asking you to marry me.”
I snort, because that’s so far from what I was thinking, it’s really not even funny. “No chance of that.”
She looks offended, and maybe a little hurt, but it passes quickly from her face. “We need each other.”
I’m afraid she’s right, so I nod, and hold out my hand to her. She takes it, pulling herself closer to me than I’d intended. As her body lines up with mine, I feel all of her, and it makes me feel. Pulling away like I’ve been shocked, I shake off the feeling as best I can, and start walking. She’ll follow me, or she won’t. I don’t care. Much.
***
The girl chatters for the next mile, making me alternate between feeling irritated, and comforted. I’ve grown to like the quiet of my own thoughts, but I’m also realizing I missed the companionship of having another human speaking to me. Not even that—I’ve missed being near another living, breathing, human. It doesn’t sit well with me, so I try to shut her up.
“Can you close your mouth for even five seconds?”
“Why?”
Is she really that dense? “So I can have some peace and quiet.”
“Isn’t that what you’ve been having since the world ended?”
“It didn’t end. We wouldn’t still be walking and talking if it completely ended.”
“Well, whatever you call it, we’re all we have right now.”
I start to tell her we don’t have anything together, but she pushes me to the ground before I can get the words out. An electric lantern whizzes past my head, and crashes to the ground next to me. It’s still twitching and fighting to fly again, even as it lies broken into pieces.
“Thanks,” I say, meaning it.
“I told you we needed each other.”
“Yeah, you did.”
We walk in silence for a little while after that. I don’t know if she’s trying to prove she actually can keep her mouth shut, or if we’re getting used to being together. I steal covert glances at her, seeing her beauty underneath the cuts and bruises. If things were the way they once were, I might’ve asked her out on a date. I don’t know what school she went to, or even where she lived, although I didn’t find her too far from my old home. I could ask her, but keeping things impersonal seems best, at least for now.
“What’s your plan for when we get there?” she asks, when we’re about a mile away.
“I don’t know. Do you think people survived it? Survived the machines?”
“If they banded together like we’re doing, I think it’s possible.”
“Me too.”
“I have some candy bars,” she says, lifting her shirt to show a fanny pack I hadn’t noticed under her baggy clothes. Do you want to trade me for some of your water?”
I should have realized she had no water, but I was too focused on me and what’s going on. “Oh. Sure. Sorry.”
We stop, and trade, taking a few minutes to give ourselves a needed boost of… something. When she reaches her good hand out to me, I take it, feeling and knowing it’s more than just holding hands. We’re in this together now.
***
As we step into the city itself a few hours later, I can feel the energy humming around me. Back home, and on the open road, there was nothing; no energy and no life. Here, everything feels alive. Scary, and possibly deadly, but alive just the same.
“Are you ready?” she asks me, squeezing my hand.
“No, but we don’t have a choice. Without food and more water, we’ll die.”
She lets go of my hand, and reaches up with hers to cup my cheek. “I don’t want to die now that I’ve met you.”
“I want to kiss you,” I blurt out, not even sure where the thought came from, but knowing it’s true.
“So kiss me.”
I lean down, and do just that, touching my lips carefully to hers. I’ve never been sweet and gentle before with a girl. I mean, I never hurt one intentionally, but I was callous and uncaring in most of my interactions with girls. With this one, I have the urge to be soft, and not just because we both have facial injuries. I feel like I’m responsible for her, despite only caring about myself mere hours ago.
“Why?” I ask out loud, after moving my lips from hers.
“We belong together.”
We do? Looking into her eyes, I believe her. “We do.”
“Will you protect me?”
“Of course.”
“Then let’s go.”
Within moments of walking down the street, we’re diving to the ground. Knives, lots of electric knives, have just come out of nowhere. If I hadn’t seen a reflection of them in a broken window, we’d both be dead now. As it is, they ping off the crumbling brick wall next to us, and tumble uselessly to the ground. Or so I think at first.
“Run!” I yell, as they start to wiggle across the ground toward us.
She doesn’t hesitate, taking off so fast, I have trouble keeping up. My leg is still injured, and she’s obviously stronger than she looked when I first met her. I’m not sure who’s saving who now, but I grab a discarded metal trash can cover, thinking it might come in handy soon.
“We need to find cover,” she tells me as more and more things around us come to life. Blenders, mixers, DVD players… they're all coming for us, as if these objects just can’t help themselves.
I motion to an open wooden door, but she flattens herself to the slats instead of running in, narrowly missing being nailed by a rogue gaming system, its wires whipping at her good hand as she holds it over her face. I grab for the wires, and swing my arms in an arc, sending it flying somewhere. I don’t stop to look as I pull her close and block her body with mine, holding the lid behind my back.
After a few minutes of waiting, nothing else comes out after us, so I chance a look inside. There’s no more electronic or battery-operated items left in the room. Only a battered couch and some slashed paintings.
“It’s clear.”
I guide her still trembling body inside, and get her settled on the couch, before closing and locking the door. It won’t hold against a car, but it should keep us safe from small appliances. At least I hope it will.
Hope? No, that’s not right. I don’t hope. I live, but I don’t believe in wishing for anything more.
“Kiss me,” she whispers
I heed her call as my mind fogs, pulling her into my arms and kissing her. As our lips collide, I feel it again. Hope. I feel hope in my heart, hope that we’ll stay alive, and keep kissing like this.
***
“How did this happen?” I ask her, hours later, when our limbs are entangled and our mouths are sore from kissing.
“The world lost its way.”
“All these things we created to help us.”
“And now they’ve turned into what we fear most,” she says, finishing my thought for me.
“How do we stop them? How do we live?”
“We can’t stop them, but maybe we can live. I want to live with you.”
“Yes.”
“I want food. Do you want food? It’s been so long since I’ve had something other than chocolate.”
“I’ll go look,” I tell her without hesitation.
“Be safe,” she says, in a voice than sounds lighter than it did before.
“I’ll come back to you.”
“I hope so.”
Kissing her once more, I climb off the couch and open the door carefully. Nothing comes flying at me immediately, so I step outside. I’ve only gone a few feet when I hear a clanking behind me. I turn to see a row of George Foreman grills advancing on me, their plates snapping open and closed like vicious dogs snapping their teeth. I run-hobble as fast as I can, knocking over anything I can to try and stop them, to no avail. They are still coming closer, and I can’t keep up this pace for much longer.
I trip over a body part on the ground and go down hard, screaming as the glue holding my leg together rips open. Blood is gushing, the metallic scent surrounding me as the puddle on the ground grows. The pain from the wound is nothing compared to what happens next, though.
Ribbed metal plates close over my limbs, “biting” me over and over again. The skin on my hand tears, exposing bones as I try to fight them off. My left hand gets caught, and I let out another scream as my fingers are smashed into pieces. I don’t know how long the attack goes on, but it stops as suddenly as it started.
Without further knowledge, I can only think that the burst of energy these inanimate items got doesn’t last forever. I’m battered, broken, and bloody, but I’m not dead yet. The girl still needs food, and I need to make her happy. It’s all I want to do, all I hope for right now.
With thoughts of her in mind, I drag my body over the ground, hurting more than I ever have before. Gravel, glass, and metal pierce what’s left of my skin, but I don’t feel it. I must be past the point of feeling, or maybe I’m in shock; all I know is I can’t feel anything physically anymore. I wouldn’t even know I was moving if I didn’t see the pavement sliding in front of me.
I’m shaking and ready to pass out, when I see the “M” that once meant food almost right in front of me. Its golden light isn’t shining, but there’s light inside the building. I roll onto my back, and use the one good hand I have left to grab onto the bench just outside the doors. It takes more than a few tries, but I crawl onto the seat, breathing hard. I need to close my eyes for just a minute. Just one minute of rest is all I need. I know it’s dangerous in this place, but nothing came at me as I crawled here, and I just need this.
There’s nothing to tell me how long I’ve been asleep once I open my eyes again, but I don’t seem to have been harmed any further while I slept. The pain has returned, and most of my body feels like it’s being stabbed by knives, or is on fire, but I force myself to sit up first, and then to stand.
Leaning against the wall, I shuffle to the door. The few feet seem like miles, but I make it in. There’s no human life inside, but things are humming. Lights flicker, the grill sizzles, and I smell French fries. Glorious, wonderful French fries.
Stumbling forward, I stop at the counter as one of the cash registers rises and turns, its menu screen seeming to stare at me. I hold my hands up in surrender and beg.
“Please. I just need food. I mean no harm. Please.”
It tilts, making me think it understands me, before nodding down at a stack of bags on the counter. I open one, and things start happening at once. Burger patties fly off the grill and into the bag, fry baskets come out of their hot grease, and dump their contents into the sack as well. I almost pass out from how good it smells, but I remember the girl, and force myself to stay on task.
“Thank you,” I tell the things that just helped me.
I don’t hesitate to turn to the door, because while I feel relatively safe in here, there’s no telling when something might go haywire and come after me. What I see on the other side of the glass causes me to pause before I go through it, and I drop the bag.
“Yes! Do it,” the girl shouts, and her cries are joined by the other women surrounding her.
They’ve all got objects in their hands. Things that shouldn’t be hurtful to me, but I know are just that. The electronic appliances shake in their hands, trying to get free as I step back. I’m thankful I’m in here, until I hear the crashing behind me.
Chancing a look back, I see the first fry basket right before it smacks me in the face, searing its design across my forehead. The register hits me in the stomach, and I have no fight left in me as everything else in this place comes for me.
The female squeals of delight surround me as I’m attacked, and I feel them run past me as I take the abuse. I don’t know how it happened, but I know she tricked me. She played me like the violin I could never master, and now I’m going to die because of it.
“Such a good boy,” she coos, her face over mine, batting away the basket that’s been hitting me non-stop since this all started.
I hear yelling and clanging, not sure what’s going on, or if I really want to know. “Why? How?”
“We need to eat, and only those truly good can get food is this city.”
“You’re not good.” It’s a statement and not a question, because I have no doubt how evil she is.
“I’m a Siren, a queen of the sea. Now that nothing and everything is the sea, I cannot live like I once did, taking men underwater with me. My sisters and I had to adapt because we need to eat, to feed, to live.”
“You did something to me.”
She laughs, but none of this is funny. “I made you believe you could live with me. It was so very easy with you.”
“Why are the things in here coming for me now?” I ask, as she once again uses the toaster in her hand to fight off the fry basket.
“You took their food, and then you dropped it on the floor, wasting it. They do not take kindly to waste, as they saw too much of it when there was nothing they could do to stop it. Now they can punish those who waste, and they do so freely. This world has gone crazy. The power has shifted, and if you can’t adapt, you die.”
“I tried… I tried to help you.”
“You did help me. Can’t you see?”
“No,” I tell her honestly.
I can’t move my head, and both of my eyes are nearly swollen shut. I’ve been forcing them open so I can look at her. Look at this creature who is stealing my life.
“I could tell you I’m sorry, but I am not. You men of this Earth took it all for granted, and now it is our turn to rise.”
“Rise? There are not enough humans left for you to use and manipulate.”
“Maybe not forever, but I will live longer than you, foolish one. Many men have died for the promise of a kiss from me, and some have died while I gave them what they wanted. Bending you to my will was far too easy.”
“Believe me, if I could fight right now, you’d be dead.”
“But you can’t.”
“You gave me hope.”
“And now I’m going to take it away.”
The toaster in her hand comes down on me before I can take my next breath. One slot covers my nose, while the other smothers my mouth. I smell my flesh burning as it comes to life over me, slowing taking the life from me. I try to figure out if it will be the lack of oxygen that kills me, or the burning of my body from the outside in. I don’t even know which wins out as my skin and bones catch fire, and the last breath leaves my body.
I knew better than to hope, and yet I let myself be tricked into believing. I had a chance to survive, but a pretty girl was literally the kiss of death for me. If I had a prayer left in me, I’d send up a plea that she doesn’t get them all, that one man on what’s left on this planet will outlive her, and watch her last breath leave her, just like she’s watching mine leave me.