We all piled into the old rust-basket of a car, cramming as many people into a seat as possible. There were only seven of us, but the car was meant for four, so any space that should have been breathing room was taken up by someone. I got lucky, sitting in the front seat across from where a steering wheel should have been. Wallace, our own personal mechanic for this operation, sat next to me with his sister squishing in next to him. Based on the noise, it seemed like everyone else crammed into the back. I was honestly surprised that this contraption could hold our weight.
I was used to wreckage, after what had happened, but we were in a Mass Disposal Area; everything was worse here. I guess a couple of years ago, you could have considered it a dump, but that was almost a joke now. You could honestly consider everywhere a dump, even though we've been in cleanup for about a year. They put the worst of the wreckage, however, in places like these: large plots of open land scattered around the cities. Certain parts were completely barred off, due to the high levels of radiation some scraps contained. Despite that, most of the area was open to anyone who needed to drop off excess debris.
This jalopy was in pretty bad shape. The cloth seats were torn up, the ceiling had tiny holes all over it, and seemingly every inch of metal was either rusted or tarnished. The car doors could barely be considered doors in the first place, with the hinges just barely holding on to the base.
"Alright," Wallace breathed, "Let's see what we can do with this." He leaned forward, reaching under what looked like a radio, and started fiddling with some loose wires. For a while, everyone was silent in expectation, interrupted only by the sound of an electrical buzz or Wallace mumbling "Come on, come on..." to himself.
Then, suddenly, sounds started coming from the old contraption. I caught my breath, silently praying that whatever he was doing would work. And that's when the music started. I covered my mouth, attempting to keep the happy tears at bay. The car erupted into happy cheers. Granted, the sound quality was muffled, and no one could really tell what song was on, but nobody cared. When was the last time I had heard music? It was before The Attack, obviously, so definitely over a year. A few of us shed tears of joy, patting Wallace on the back while he smiled smugly. I also noticed a cracked light on the ceiling slowly illuminate itself. It was nothing short of glorious.
Just as everyone started to settle into the song, there was a loud zap, and the music died. The entirety of the car groaned in frustration and loss.
"What happened, Wallace?" I asked, my voice laced with disappointment.
To answer my question involuntarily, Wallace's sister kicked open the car door to stretch her legs. The sound of a downpour filled everyone's ears. "Of course, it's raining!" Wallace exclaimed, exasperated. I looked out of the doorway, and realized that not everyone was in fact in the car.
There, standing about fifty feet away from the car and everyone else, was Luken. With the black hood of his raincoat pulled over his curly red hair, he stood and let the rain roll off of him. As everyone filed out of the cheap automobile and into the shower, running home, I let curiosity get the best of me.
Pulling the hood of my raincoat over my head, I ran a bee-line over to him. "Luken!" I called out. He turned to me slightly, but he seemed preoccupied with something else. As I got closer, I noticed he has something in his ear: a headphone.
For a moment, I stopped, simply because my mind was partially blown. Every mp3 player or radio was either destroyed or incredibly damaged from The Attack. How did he have one in tact? Shaking my head, I ran the rest of the way up to him, coming up on his right side. "Hey, why didn't you come into the car with us?"
He turned to me full on, as if just realizing I was there. Reaching into his coat pocket, he fumbled with something before reaching up to take out his headphone. Looking over at the car, he said simply "I wouldn't have fit in that old thing. Besides," he turned back and brought his device out of his pocket. It was an mp3 player with a touch screen. The screen was incredibly cracked, but it was obviously in working order. "I like being by myself, anyway." I gaped at the piece of electronic advancement in his hand. How could he have something like that and I not know about it until now?
