Left for Dead

02

A few months passed, and she met a few rebels, and started to hear more and more about life among them. She heard about The Nest and spent a day or two there, watching rebels come and go. More stories were told about the Killjoys, who sounded more and more like they were just a new kind of Robin Hood to get everyone through the times.

From The Nest, she followed the rebel flow lines. Gas stations, old diners, even a run-down hotel had all become hot spots and hangouts. They formed a ring when charted on a map, and at the center of the ring was Dr. Death Defying's radio station.

It turned out there were a few other solitary rebels. Most of them were the volatile, don't-play-well-with-others type, but a few were neurodivergents who preferred the solitude – it was just easier; even the misfit rebels weren't always super accepting of what they felt was the wrong kind of different. Soldiers, all the same.

The lone rebels were called rangers, but they were really just cartographers. They radiated out from the rebel circle, filling in the blanks on the edges of the rebel maps on every return to The Nest, making life a little safer, the world a little wider, for everyone in the stations.

She chose southwest to map, hoping to find the ocean again. Even if it was all acid now, she still missed looking out to sea. She carefully chose her trajectory for the day, then hopped on the motorcycle she'd acquired in her exploring. In downtime at The Nest, she'd doused the whole thing in yellow paint, splattering it on her clothes as well. She'd swapped her green bandana for a yellow one, now that she could afford to care about matching colors, but she kept her yellow-spattered red jacket and tinted motorcycle goggles.

She'd never formally picked a rebel name like most of the others had, but she had nicknames ranging from "dumbass" to "canary" or "Tweety."

It was the third building she'd spotted that day, having found an old road mostly eaten by dust storms, so it didn't surprise her. Dr. Death Defying's voice on the radio was preaching something about nasty dust storms rolling in as she cut her bike's motor before she got close enough to be heard, and put on her roller skates for a quick, quiet in-and-out. She slid a brace onto her left forearm, the only thing she'd kept when she ran from the city.

The building was an old diner, with a couple letters kicked off so it just said "DIE." There had to be rebels living in there, no way had that had happened on its own. Checking that her gun was on her hip and her brace was on tight, she rolled easily up to the diner, knowing rebels weren't always happy to be found.

"Little hey, little ho," She called loudly, and heard crashing and cursing from within. About 15 seconds later, a short man in a crooked Frankenstein mask burst out the door, brandishing his gun.

"Do the Bats really shout for you like that?" She asked, cocking her head, though her hand stayed ready by her hip, left fist clenched and her arm held protectively along her side.

"Well, no." He answered, lowering his gun slightly with a hint of a grin, then raising it again. "But we're not friendly. We don't like anybody knowing where we are."

A man in what looked like a blue space helmet burst out of the door, gun in hand, to stand next to his friend.

"Waaaiiiit," she straightened up on her roller skates a bit. "You're those Fabulous Killjoys the kids keep talking about at The Nest." She stiffened. "There's more of you." Swiveling expertly on her skates, she put her back to the building, leveling her gun at Frankenstein and Space Man, extending her left arm as if it would protect her from the two sneaking up on her other side. It was a person in a ridiculous, ratty MouseKat head, and another guy in a bulky helmet that said "Good Luck."

"Yes, we are, and we don't really want our fan club finding out where we live." Frankenstein smiled, crooked as his mask.

"Well, this has been Avon calling, guess I'll just put you on the do not call list." She smiled coldly behind her bandana, knowing the sickly sweet gesture would carry on her voice.