JONATHAN
Jonathan exited the sewers near the rec center parking lot. The rain had flooded the tunnels badly, so he ended up doing more swimming than walking in the murky rainwater. That might have worked out in his favour considering no one would dare follow him out in this weather.
Jonathan, himself, had never really been bothered by the presence of rain. His mom used to ask him when he went out running on rainy days, how he could go on splashing through puddles without reacting to the wet or the cold like a normal human being. Of course, that had always seemed like another useless skill he possessed... who knew it would become the difference between life or death one day. Yet another hard lesson people had learned in the apocalypse: there is a definite connection between emotion and rain.
Jonathan ducked under the broken doorframe around the back of the rec center and passed through a few of the weight rooms and gym areas. He tried telling himself that he was only looking around for the sake of finding a spare towel to dry off but there was a small part of him that knew the real reason he was scanning every room.
It wasn't like he expected her to wait for him or anything, he had made it more than clear that he did not want to come with her but maybe he thought that she'd leave him a sign like one of those little lottery tickets she was always carrying around. He'd been counting on that misplaced optimism of hers. He anticipated that Evelyn would be long gone, after all, he'd sent her down the tunnel hours ago, it was early morning now. Not that one could really tell with the rain. Being as smart as she was, Evelyn would know not to stay in any one place for an extended period. Still, he pushed past the tattered police tape and continued to wander the empty rec center.
It was so quiet, he nearly jumped out of his skin when he caught sight of his own reflection in the massive glass windows that overlooked the pool area. His hair was damp and messy to a point of wrecking the clean cut, military look that others had tried so hard to instill in him. It was almost enough to make him feel better about the current state of things.
The long-abandoned facilities had never been drained and now resembled a swamp fit for an ogre. Fuzzy mold and algae clung to the walls like thick black eels and with the rain cascading against the glass windows, condensation filled the room with a hazy fog. The whole scene reminded Jonathan of Dagobah, the fetid wetland planet in Star Wars where crazy old Yoda went to hide out in exile. But here, in the apocalypse, instead of a little green alien hermit, there was a Soulless young man slamming into a vending machine in the back by the steam room. Much less whimsical. Much more depressing.
Curiously, Jonathan moved along the glass to take a closer look. The Shell was built like a tank, clad in a camouflage jacket and cargo shorts. Unlike most of the greying Shells he'd seen before, this one was covered in mousy hair that cascaded down it's shoulders and covered it's face in a beard Santa Clause would be jealous of. He wore a matching camo baseball cap and a pair of dark sunglasses.
Jonathan's heart skipped a beat as he realized that it wasn't just slamming into the vending machine, he was shaking it. This was not just another Soulless... this was another survivor. Jonathan drew a sharp, uneasy breath as the man slowly turned to make direct eye contact and worst of all, raised the shotgun that had been strapped to his side.
Jonathan's sneakers screeched against the linoleum as he turned to run, his hand already pulling his gun from its holster.
"HELP!" The muffled cry warbled through the glass.
For a moment, Jonathan froze, not wanting to risk turning around. He couldn't be sure of what he'd heard, especially through the glass and with his impaired hearing. There had been no gunfire. He would have heard that... wouldn't he?
"PLEASE!" The voice came again, unmistakably clear, "HELP!"
Against his better judgement, Jonathan turned and ventured a glance. The survivor had not moved any closer but appeared to be waving at him. The more Jonathan watched the survivor's arm flail, the more he realized the strange predicament he was witnessing.
It had to be one of the dumbest ways to die in the apocalypse he'd ever seen... The guy looked a bit like Forrest Gump, that is if Forrest decided to rob a vending machine instead of run across the country. Also, the firearm he was brandishing looked suspiciously like the neck of an electric guitar.
"Please don't tell me you're stuck," Jonathan whispered watching the survivor continue to wave frantically with his free arm while the other remained shoved up the business end of the vending machine.
He knew that he should run. He'd been taught about this kind of con. Fake a weakness, feign an injury, play helpless then when their guard is down, reveal that you had control over the situation the entire time.
He caught a glimpse of his reflection in the glass again. Staring back at him were cold, steel grey eyes; the ones he'd inherited from his father. The pistol was poised to shoot in his hand; he realized with a start, that his training had taken over and without thinking he'd already pulled the hammer back.
"You're telling me you're just a good Samaritan that heard some random stranger calling for help over a radio and came running?" He'd asked Evelyn and she'd looked at him with those big, melting brown eyes and said yes as if it was the most obvious answer in the world.
For the thousandth time that day, he wondered if being struck by lightning had actually knocked a few screws loose because he found himself moving towards the doors, towards the idiot with his arm trapped in the vending machine.
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"Drop the weapon." The survivor called out as Jonathan approached. His tone was gruff and sharp as if he was used to barking orders rather than speaking them.
"You're not in a position to be making demands," Jonathan informed him, "I mean, I'm no expert but I'd think the one asking for help should be the one throwing down his weapon first to show good will."
"What if I drop my weapon and you just go ahead pick it up and walk away, then what'll I do?" He asked, continuing to raise his guitar threateningly with his free hand, "doesn't seem smart."
"What doesn't seem smart is getting your hand stuck in there in the first place." Jonathan said using his pistol to gesture at the machine, which was completely empty apart from a single wrapped protein bar caught between the glass and the metal claw, "But then again you could just be playing me. I mean c'mon man, I can tell that's not a gun."
The survivor chuckled quietly to himself, lowering the neck of his guitar. "You don't trust anyone do you, kid? Good. Don't. That'll keep you alive."
"I could just leave, if you want," Jonathan offered.
The survivor considered that for a moment and then released his grip on the guitar letting it sag against his body.
Jonathan holstered his gun and held his hands up so the survivor could see.
"I'm going to come towards you now and I'm going to try to get you out of there. You make one move towards me, or look even a little sketchy and I'll turn around and leave, understand?"
The survivor let out a loud grunt, which Jonathan took to mean he understood the terms and conditions.
"And if we attract any soulless, any at all, I'm out." Jonathan added, for good measure.
"Quit preening about and get it over with. This is humiliating enough." The survivor murmured.
Cautiously Jonathan inched towards the man and then braced himself against the machine. Coaxing it forward, he leaned it against his body just enough so that the angle would allow the survivor to pull his arm out. At first the survivor eyed him curiously but then as the vending machine creaked and tipped forwards, he busied himself with the business of freeing his arm.
"So?" Jonathan grunted after a few moments, trying to hide the strain in his voice, "can you get free or what?"
"Oh yeah!" He said, his arm still firmly planted inside the vending machine, "actually can you shake it a little, maybe to the left, can't quite reach my cliff bar."
"What?" Jonathan snapped dropping the machine, causing the man to jump back in alarm as it slammed back into place, "You've got to be kidding me."
"Do you know how long I've been looking for one of these?" The survivor said rubbing his arm, "yeah that's going to bruise."
"Seriously? All this for a freaking cliff bar? You're like Woody Harrelson with the Twinkie."
"Woody Who?"
"Zombieland?" Jonathan swiped a hand through the air dismissing the comment and taking a deep breath to put a lid on his frustration, "forget it, it's a movie reference."
"Oh, I don't watch tv, kid. That's how the machines hypnotize you."
"Right," Jonathan said slowly backing away from the survivor. He'd met people like this guy before, the conspiracy theorists who blamed the whole downfall of humanity on technology. Of course, he hadn't met one who was as young as this guy appeared to be. The survivor didn't look too much older than Jonathan, maybe in his late-twenties to early thirties.
"What's your name kid?"
"Doesn't matter."
"Course it does. Stupid Gen-Zers and your drugs and your screens and making sure you're all too numb to actually make a connection with somebody."
Jonathan resisted the urge to roll his eyes, "Alright fine, it's Jon. What's your name?"
The survivor chuckled and stroked his beard thoughtfully, "Well Jonny boy that's mistake numero deux. You shouldn't tell no one your name. You can call me "Guy."
"Alright Guy, but how do you know it's not an alias? Jon is a pretty common—"
"Oh, I used to be a cop Jonny boy, I know when people are lying to me and I know when they're honest. It's a gift being able to sus out the truth, I'm like a blood hound."
"Oh, you know the truth?"
Like how the machines enslave us using sesame street? Like how social media turned us all into zombies? Jonathan thought.
"Oh yeah," the survivor said combing his fingers through his beard as if the mangled birds' nest on his face brought him some greater wisdom, "I know it all. I know you're from some military compound—you ain't actually got the guts to shoot me 'cause you're soft."
Jonathan tried to protest but Guy scoffed, "Didn't even take the safety off, my man. You've been through some kind of trauma 'cause of the way you ain't walking right and 'cause of whatever hard of hearing issue you got going on that makes you keep turning your head like that."
"That's uh, pretty insightful Guy."
"Kinda freaky how right I am, ain't it?"
Jonathan treated Guy to one of his famous blank, dumbfounded stares. Guy's tone was ominously serious. His features were buried in a sasquatch-level carpet of facial hair and his eyes were concealed behind that pair of dark sunglasses making it impossible to tell if he was joking.
"I just spend a lot of time watching is all. Want me to freak you out some more?" Guy asked, "You're looking for someone, probably someone who saved you from a tough spot on account of the fact that you're on some kind of pay it forward kick, coming to help me and all."
"Say I was looking for someone." Jonathan said slowly. He didn't intend on asking for Guy's advice, especially after listening to him talk but he seemed to have some kind of observational knowledge, and Jonathan realized he didn't have much to lose considering finding Evelyn in the city would be like searching for a needle in a haystack. "If a girl maybe passed through here, would you have maybe seen her?"
"This girl she like a little 5 foot something? Big backpack? Black hair? Dressed like a bank robber from the old west?"
Jonathan nodded, pushing down the part of him that was laughing at the thought that one of Evelyn's defining features was that massive bottomless backpack of hers.
"Nah, sorry Jonny boy, she didn't pass through here!"
Jonathan had to bite his tongue to keep his tone in check, "But you've seen her!"
"Yeah, but that was like a while back, wandered off into Serenity Society territory."
Jonathan cursed under his breath at his ex-companion's appalling lack of direction. Why didn't she just follow his map?
"She mean something to you?"
Jonathan shook his head, "Yes, I mean No... Look I just really need to find her. I've got to tell her something."
"Woah woah there Jonny boy, I'm not interested in hearing your rom-com, chick flick, sad-boy struggles."
"Would you stop calling me that?"
"Alright, but are you going to help me get this cliff bar, Skinny Arms, or what?"
Now Jonathan did roll his eyes, Guy had finally managed to pull the emotion out of him, "Are you going to tell me where she went?"
The fuzzy carpet of hair on Guy's face lifted, making Jonathan assume he was either smiling or baring his teeth, "Tell you what, Skinny Arms, you help me get the Cliff bar and I'll do more than tell you. I'll help you go get her."
"For the record, I like Jonny boy much more than I like Skinny Arms." He grumbled as he got to his knees and wedged himself elbow deep into the vending machine much to Guy's delight.