Night Walker

Chapter 2

Running.

That's all I'm doing.

I feel desperation sink into my bones and flesh, trying to burst out and trip me up. I look behind and see nothing but whiteness- horrible, blinding white; if I was thinking straight I would stop and calm down but I can't, I just cant.

Nothing's chasing me so why do I feel like every time I slow down something's going to rear up behind me and catch me?

Suddenly I feel myself falling, my hands snap out in front of me and I go sliding across the white shiny floor. My eyes lift upwards and I see a boy around my age in front of me, he looks desperate.

"Quick, now is your chance- you need to run!"

My eyes start to fill up with hot tears but I angrily swipe them away,

"There is nothing to run from you idiot!

Hurt comes over his eyes and he shakes his head,

"Please Raven..."

"How do you know my name?!" I say with venom dripping from my voice.

"You need to..."

He starts to fade, I can feel him slipping away from my grip; his eyes sad and regretful, I start shouting for some reason.

"NO PLEASE DONT GO- WHO ARE YOU?!"

And just like that, the mystery from my past was gone.

* * *

I wake up with a shout and nearly fall out of my hammock.

And here I was, thinking that that stupid dream had gone away. I huff and climb out of my suspended bed and onto one of the metal beams beneath me. I then hop from beam to beam to were I keep my toothbrush, it was quite a ridiculous sight- a girl suspended 7 stories up in the air brushing her teeth, but what can I do? My teeth would rot like nearly everyone else who survived the world wide nuclear bombings.

I know that people call me crazy for living up so high in a hammock suspended over nothing but rusted and decaying beams; but hey, they're always making comments about how amazing it is that I haven't been robbed, conned, raped or murdered- it's probably got something to do with being smart on my part AND being situated in a spot that would make doing anything to me very.... awkward.

As I make my way to work (aka my pick pocketing runs) I start to think about my continuous dreams. I was brought up believing in God, or at least I think I was; it's hard because when I escaped the cinema that became my friends and family's grave, a football sized rock crashed down onto my head, knocking me out. When I woke up everything before the past few months was a total blur; I could only remember obvious details.

It has been three years now and I've become quite accustomed to the post-apocalyptic life style. Yeah sure you still find the odd rotting body or get caught up in the odd argument-turned-shooting-match, but it's ok... Sort of.

I remember when I was first thrown into this world, literally. I was 13 and was outside my apartment block, about to go for a run. My skin felt funny- like tiny little ants where crawling everywhere under my skin.

Then I heard the screams.

They weren't just any type of screams however- they weren't the adrenaline pumped fun loving screams, nor were they the laughing, light hearted screams of children in the street, they weren't even the shocked screams let out but surprised people.

These screams where the blood curdling, glass shattering screams that where strictly let out only at times of pure terror.

I remember sprinting up the stairs to my family's apartment, crashing through the door and everyone turning around, stunned.

"Quick, we need to go to the basement, something's happened outside!" I breathlessly blurted.

I can see the memory so clearly like there's a picture glued to the inside of my brain- mum was standing in the kitchen washing up after lunch, dad was sitting on the lounge playing chess with himself and.... My brother.

A mixture of white hot rage and raw betrayal stabs my chest.

How did he do it? Sure I'll admit that I'm not exactly the most emotional or compassionate person around, but seriously, how does a human do that to another human, let alone his family?!

My eyes snap open and I realise that I'm standing in front of a collapsed building that once was a cinema, not my pick pocket runs. I do this a lot nowadays- start thinking about something so deeply, so absorbing that I subconsciously walk to a destination that has to do with my thoughts. A sigh escapes my lips and I turn around and start slowly towards my original destination, my mind blank- if I let one single thought into my over thinking head I know a wave of unwelcome emotion will wash over me.

I may be a desensitised, unsmiling pessimist but I know where my breaking point is.

That point is my brother.