Exclusion Zone 15

02.04.202X - BASTARDS Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.   Fuck the rain, fuck the asphalt, fuck running away. He wouldn't have believed it if he heard it yesterday, not with a hand on the bible, not under oath of perjury.   Why now? He'd just gotten two weeks of leave approved, he'd just gotten away from the giant pressure cookers at Blue Grass and the fucking poisons they were “neutralizing”, he'd promised the wife he'd finally prioritize being a good fucking father figure to Tina, but instead–   Him. A deserter. Leaving his post, leaving his comrades, leaving everything behind. Not in a million years. Never.   fuck the gravel and fuck the disease and fuck the rain and   Still, what choice was there? He let out a shaky, raw breath, copper in his mouth and lungs, raw, bloody copper ripping his throat open like a million hooks forcing their way out through his windpipe, and he kept going. A tired eye trained on the treeline, he cursed and swore and grit his...

 Her Revolution   The shovel split the sandy earth – quiet, metallic noises bouncing off birches and evergreens. Despite stripping out of her usual armor she could still feel sweat pouring down her back, gluing her shirt to her protesting muscles, stinging in her eyes, burning in her scars and scabs, the warmth of a Kentucky summer night suffusing her, like a blanket draped on top of the world. Her mouth felt like it was too dry to even spit with – courtesy of Rufus' old berry wine – and she silently cursed herself for not bringing a water bottle along. Could have been worse. Sahara, New Mexico, Gobi, Kalahari. Might as well be happy. It's the little things. Still... six feet? Two meters? The ground was sandy, far too sandy, there hadn't been much rain, every single shovelful of sand removed seemed instantly replaced, running in from the sides of the hole every time she as much as shifted position. She had to be making progress, right? It would have been easier with th...

  Come Lie Is this really okay?   The bedroom was as cozy as she remembered, and the bed hadn't lost any of it's softness during the day – beds weren't supposed to, so that much was in order. There was a bookcase there as well, a dark wooden one, and while it was sparsely populated it did contribute to the ambiance quite nicely. And, of course, there was Katie, cross-legged on the striped gray duvet. It made sense – it was her bedroom, after all. Actually, it felt like everything she could lay her eyes on belonged there, for want of a better word – whether a bookcase, a rug or a nightstand, all of it belonged here. She was the only outsider. The only misplaced item. She didn't belong here. The bookcase was Katie's bookcase, the bed was Katie's bed, but she wasn't Katie's Sayori. Or Katie's girl, for that matter. Was adoption even a possibility? Maybe not now. She had more important things to worry about. Like figuring out how she was supposed ...