Cyanide Laced Soda

Abandoned Parking Lots

The desert is vast. It's infinite for all they know. And in the middle there's a city, hell on earth. They don't live in the city, no. They'd rather die than set a foot in the whiteout streets again. The air there smells of trauma and unfulfillment and your headphones choose what you hear. Battery City, hell on earth.

"Man I can't believe we escaped that place, just to come back after five years like: revolution bitch, you haven't had enough ouf those." Bloom Corpse laughed, her feet dangling over the edge.

"I know right?" Friendly Void agreed.

Their eyes were glued to the horizon where the sun was setting. Setting to blood, so vibrant. The concrete still radiated heat, the sand would've too. The sand three stories below them. Abandoned parking lots were perfect to spend the night in.

"We should go, I think." Void said after some time, the wind was getting cold and the horizon dark.

"Yea you're right."

Corpse helped him get up and they walked one story down, where the rest of The Quartet were, sitting around a fire they've been keeping for some time now. Nights get cold in the desert.

The radio was on. Show and Crimson lying beside the fire on the dirty floor greeted them with a wave. They've been talking too. A faint light that lined the flat horizon wore off. A dark scene showed through the huge smashed windows and the wind blew mercilessly cold.

Corpse and Void sat down by the fire too, listened how the radio crackled from time to time, the host's voice shifting in volume, her words poetic, encouraging the new wave of rebellion. The one they are starting. At least the one they want to start.

"Did you two eat something?" Corpse asked.

"Nah, not yet. Been waiting for you, I guess." answered Show, sending a short glace to the bags by the wall.

Corpse just nodded. She looked into the fire. They were lucky enough to chop down some bushes, so they had something to burn. They wouldn't have to be this lucky in the future, hell, even tomorrow could be a bad day.

"Corpse, you should drink something, we ain't got carbons for Vicodin." Crimson muttered towards her.

"Vicodin? Have you ever, ever in your lifetime seen Vicodin in a gas station, Crimson? That's some fancy shit." she laughed.

"But yea, fair enough." she then agreed as she got up and walked to the bags for a water bottle.

They had six in total. That meant that they had enough for the rest of the week. This fact was really calming, because they had enough time to find either a vending machine or a gas station and get more water there.

She passed the bottle to the others too. Crimson said something about how he could get absolutely blue-lined on water and was immediately advised not to do it, because that's not really efficient in the desert.

"Also I'm pretty sure that's called drowning." Void added, laughing at his own joke right after.

The conversation didn't evolve any further after that. Mostly because they all agreed and there wasn't much to say about water anyway. There were things to say about graffitti though, so they spent the rest of their time before they went to sleep planning out their pieces for tomorrow. They've seen something while exploring the lower stories, so they agreed that it'd be nice to paint this one too. They're artists after all.

And artists need to sleep. Just like all the nights before they took out their blankets, put out the fire and curled up on the ground really close to each other, because they didn't want to get cold. After all this time in the zones, their views had changed. Some actions and words lose intimacy and significance over time, other gain them. Mindsets change, become more essential. Dreams, nonsensical and pure in nature, fill the mind instead of nightmares.

And then the morning comes.

They woke up early. Their internal clock was set this way. Mainly because Draculoids get up early too  and you never know when the radio announces that mum and dad are coming home. Naturally, turning on the radio was the first thing they did. They tuned it to catch a signal from the closest nest, which turned out to be the Fuck You House in Zone 6. They still haven't left Zone 6, but the good news were, that they are pretty close to a nest, where they can buy some food or water. Fortunately, there were no reports on Draculoids. They didn't have to worry for now, which meant, that they can pack their stuff in peace and then have breakfast. And maybe when they're lucky, they'll have time to paint this story, before they have to get back on the run.

Packing was done in about ten minutes and then they ate their breakfast, one protein bar per person. They knew, that this was absolute luxury, things were going to get worse. Hopefully not too soon, but who knew what could happen.

As they sat on the floor, eating, Void took out the map of the Zones. He looked at it for some time, he was thinking.

"If we get this done quickly, we might get to the nest today, we'll maybe have to walk at night too tho." he then announced and looked at his friends.

"Okay, are we gonna try?" Crimson asked immediately.

Void shrugged, surprised by such eager reaction, and looked at Corpse and Show.

"Are we?" he asked

"I mean, we can." Show said and hesitated for a moment before saying: "we should, shouldn't we?"

Crimson nodded. They should. The less time they spend out in the desert the better. Maybe they could find someone with a car in the nest, that would be nice. Moving faster means less time in which they can get into a fight, less needed supplies and therefore more chance of actually eating and drinking decently.

They all eventually agreed, that they were going to try to arrive to the nest that day. Then they got up from the ground and prepared their cans, this place was going to get revived. Baptized into the cult of self-expression and freedom. Made into a love letter from anarchy. Party Poison would be proud.