With each passing day, Hallie’s hostility lessened. We argued less and less, though as arguing was pretty much all we did, it also meant we were now barely talking at all now. If I tried to spark up any conversation, she shut it down instantly. We only spoke on her terms, the topic usually being my failures. Otherwise, we simply carried on with life solitarily, living alongside each other silently as though the other didn’t exist. And that was the way it continued as we travelled the long highways and moved from makeshift shelter to makeshift shelter. Sometimes we lived in luxury; a roof over our heads and plenty to eat and drink. Other times, we found ourselves fearfully cowering in alleyways, hungry and dehydrated. But always, always in strained silence.

It was in one of these alleyways that we met Felix. We were hunched over in the shadow of a dumpster, trying to rest our legs a little. It felt like days since we’d last slept properly, and the deprivation was starting to get to me. I was jumping at shadows that weren’t there, and was worried that in an actual encounter with one of them, I might not have the reaction time I needed to have. It was a painful realisation, as I was determined to keep Hallie safe now. She could hate me all she wanted, but I owed it to Viola to take care of her. I kept a lookout while Hallie began to doze, her head lolling and jerking her awake every time she dropped off. Eventually she leaned to the side, coming to rest on my shoulder. I didn’t dare wake her, partly because she’d be furious that she was physically touching me, and partly because I was enjoying the contact between us, even if it had come about through her unconsciousness. My exhausted mind drifted, despite my repeated attempts to keep myself alert, and a man was upon us, brandishing a cleaver, before I’d even realised he was anywhere near.

“Oi,” he whispered, sharply, grabbing my attention immediately. I instinctively put an arm across Hallie to shield her. “You got any bites? Any scratches?”
I shook my head in a mute answer, our vulnerable position sapping my confidence.
“You got food?” he asked, the cleaver jittering in his hand.
I shook my head again, looking up at him fearfully. He stared back for a few moments before hesitantly dropping the blade to his side. I chewed the inside of my cheek as I watched him nervously. Slowly, shakily, he extended his free hand towards me.
“Felix,” he announced, waiting for me to take his hand. I was completely paralysed still from his initial introduction and, sensing this, he withdrew his hand.
He stood awkwardly for a moment before trying again, “I’m sorry. I’m still trying to work out how to navigate this world.”
I shrugged and found my voice, “Us too.”
I eyed him suspiciously, but the more of his features I took in, the more I relaxed. It was like looking in the mirror. Well, apart from the fact he was a man. I recognised that look in his eye, the look that said ‘what the fuck am I doing?’
I recognised the shaky way he brandished the knife that he wasn’t comfortable with, in a threatening manner that he couldn’t follow through with. I saw fear, uncertainty and a longing for confidence that didn’t exist.

He sat with me for a while. I didn’t ask him for his backstory, but he gave it anyway. He used to be married, used to be a lawyer, used to play golf. Useless tidbits that I wasn’t particularly interested in. He did get my attention, though, when he began speaking about his plans.
“I’ve been on the road for a while now. Just hoping to get to Washington before I starve to death,” he half-laughed, but I knew as well as he did that it was a possibility. It was difficult to find food that didn’t require some form of effort to eat. Perishables were obviously off the menu, and if you lacked the apparatus or the ability, then it was pretty difficult to open and cook up even a tin of beans.
“What’s in Washington?” I asked, my curiosity piqued.
“You don’t know?” he quizzed, raising his eyebrows in shock. “There’s an army checkpoint. A safe haven.”
I narrowed my eyes in disbelief, “Where did you hear that?”
“Whispers on the street,” he replied, turning the cleaver over in his hands. I recognised that too; he was looking for a connection with the weapon in his hands, which was hard to find when you didn’t enjoy using it.
“And you believe it? Don’t you think there would have been some kind of sign of it?” I wondered aloud, toying with the possibility of its existence.
He nodded, “I believe it enough to be going there.”
I wasn’t convinced, but then I was leading us to California with absolutely no reasoning behind it other than my sister's want, so perhaps my direction was not much better.
“I’m sorry,” he blurted out, suddenly.
“Why?” I asked, puzzled by his sudden declaration.
He pursed his lips and lowered his voice, “For this.”
A searing pain cracked through my skull, my vision doubling as I tried to pick my head up. Felix’s hands shot out to my side and grabbed my pack from beside me, and I watched helplessly as he muttered another apology before sprinting away with half of our belongings.

“I hate these fucking things,” Jimmy complained as he pulled up to the gates, interrupting our poor rendition of Life On Mars. He swung the door open and hopped out with little worry for his safety. Waltzing up to the gates, he fiddled with the padlock until he’d cracked it open and then pulled the gates open.
“You’re closing them,” he grumbled, climbing back into the driver’s seat. I rolled my eyes, but obliged him anyway, exiting the van once we were through the gates. As I closed and chained them, clicking the padlock back into place, I pondered over how long it must have taken for them to secure this place. No wonder they were so attached to it. It was their retreat; they'd worked hard to make it safe and had even managed to secure themselves a power source – though it only seemed to be used for making beer cold and coffee hot from what I’d seen so far, I thought raising an eyebrow. Regardless, it was pretty impressive, I’d give them that much.
“Are you coming?” Jimmy called impatiently from the van window. He always had to be on the move.
“On my way,” I answered, jogging back to him.
I settled myself back into the van and turned to Jimmy as he accelerated up the driveway.
“So, for all the luxuries you have here,” I began, hopefully, “I don’t suppose you have hot water and shampoo?”
“Want to wash that gross hair, huh?” he snickered.
“Are you trying to give me a complex?” I asked, but giggled. It was true, after all.
“Marina, we have Brian. Of course we have hot water and shampoo,” he stated, like it was completely obvious. Though, now I thought about it, Brian’s hair did suggest that there was indeed no shortage of washing facilities available here. “I’ll sort you out when we get inside. I'm taking pity because you smell bad.”

True to his word, Jimmy darted back and forth as soon as we were inside. As he clattered about, I went to find Hallie. She was sat in the lounge with Brian, playing a video game. Again, this was what they deemed as an appropriate use for a generator in an apocalypse. It truly blew my mind.
“Oh my fucking god, it’s a dog round,” Brian complained, as Hallie threw her head back and groaned.
“These are the fucking worst,” she whined back at him.
“Hallie, really? We’re already using the ‘f’ word?” I laughed, rolling my eyes. She whipped around, wide-eyed, her motion mirrored by the foul mouthed Player 2. She was about to apologise, but I cut her off.
“You’re a bad influence,” I accused, playfully, wagging a finger at Brian. I ambled over to the fridge and grabbed a cider, seeing Hallie giving Brian a confused look in my peripherals. He returned it before shrugging, and they moved their attention back to the game. I flopped myself onto the couch and laid my head back, taking in their excited shouts and curses as they played. If I closed my eyes, I could almost pretend that I was sat on Viola’s couch, and it was really Brendan that Hallie was sat with as she shrieked and giggled. A bittersweet, fleeting vision.
“FUCKING EAT SHIT AND DIE!” Brian shouted triumphantly at the TV as he gave Hallie a high five.
I opened my eyes and picked my head up, “Really?”
“Sorry,” he mumbled, sheepishly, as Hallie snickered beside him, obviously finding my reprimand as funny as Brian’s forbidden colourful language.

Jimmy burst into the room at that moment, grinning widely. When was Jimmy ever not grinning? I thought.I made a note to attempt smiling more often.
“It’s ready,” he informed me proudly, gesturing for me to follow him. I slid my bottle onto the coffee table and trailed after him as he bounded up the stairs enthusiastically. I wasn’t sure I could bound - that seemed to be solely a Jimmy speciality - so I stuck with my stroll.
“Ta-da!” he exclaimed, throwing his arms open proudly as I reached him. “What do you think?”
I looked over his shoulder and inspected the room. He’d filled a large plastic box with hot water and set a jug, soap and shampoo beside it. A valiant effort in times such as these.
“It’s perfect, Jimmy, thank you,” I smiled, as his face lit up at my approval.
“I’ll let you get on with it,” he replied, bowing away as he quietly (but purposefully not quite out of earshot) muttered “stinker.”
I laughed at his cowardly retreat as he legged it away from the reach of my fist.

I washed my body first, letting the heat soften the stains left on my skin from days of tracking through dust and mud. I gently worked the soap over the skin on my thighs, looking at the delicate lace of scarring. It was so damn ugly, just like my soul… but then, Jimmy hadn’t recoiled from it, had he? I shook the thought away and then, leaning over the tub, I let the warm water wash over my hair for the first time in weeks. It was nothing short of heavenly. And not only that, but shampoo as well! The sweet scent of green apples filled the room as I lathered it into my blonde locks, making me sigh with happiness. Now this was luxurious. I didn’t care that the water was in a plastic box, or that I had no conditioner; the experience had left me in complete bliss. I felt clean. I wrung the water out of my hair and then reached over for the towel Jimmy had left me – of course they had towels here. I wrapped my hair up in it, balancing it carefully on top of my head, redressed and made my way to the bedroom I shared with Hallie. Throwing myself down onto the bed, I unwrapped the towel and smiled to myself. Clean hair, a comfy bed, and coffee in the morning; what more could a woman want nowadays?
“Auntie Maz?” came Hallie’s voice from the doorway.
I rolled over and sat up, “Yeah? Everything ok?”
“Jimmy wants us downstairs,” she replied, eyeing my damp, tousled hair.
“I’ll do yours in the morning,” I promised with a smile. “What does he want?”
“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “He kicked me and Brian out even though we were on a really high level with an amazing kill streak, and now he said to get you.”
I tilted my head, “Ok…”

We pattered down the steps together, the anticipation building with each step. By the time we’d reached the bottom, we were both suitably curious. As we approached the lounge door, I instinctively grabbed Hallie’s hand. I felt her stiffen for a moment, and then relax and squeeze back, sending a rush of relief through me. A buzz that emanated from the tips of her fingers. I knocked the door with my free hand and Jimmy pulled it open excitedly. Behind him, fairy lights adorned the room, twinkling away.
“You wanted to show us Christmas lights?” I asked, peering in and admiring the way he’d strung them up haphazardly in pure Jimmy style. He gestured for us to enter, before pulling something from behind his back and waving it at us. A Beach Boys CD…
“Picked it up at the plaza today,” he grinned slyly. “You’ve got thirty minutes, and only thirty. Mostly because Brian is neurotic about energy consumption, which you might find surprising given his love of gaming.”
“What are we supposed to do?” I asked, dumbly.
“Have fun,” he replied, exasperated at my (apparently ridiculous) question. I should have known that was coming. I was surprised I hadn’t committed his mantra to memory by now. He flicked a button on the CD player and quickly disappeared as it exploded into life.

Well East coast girls are hip
I really dig those styles they wear
And the Southern girls with the way they talk
They knock me out when I'm down there

I wish they all could be California girls

As the initial confusion wore off, I looked over at Hallie to find that she had a grin plastered over her face.
“I haven’t heard this in ages,” she shrieked, pulling me into the middle of the room where she began to dance wildly. I blinked at her, trying to process her apparent personality transplant.
“Auntie Maz, dance,” she insisted, tugging on my hand. I shook my confusion off, deciding to bask in her joy instead. My dancing was as bad as my singing, but it didn’t take much to coax either out of me, and soon I was jumping about with Hallie as we sang along to Viola’s favourite band.
As we twirled and wiggled and laughed together, I realised that Jimmy’s light had illuminated something in my pitch black world. It was only a shadow, but it was something I’d known before. It was happiness.

Notes

Aww, that was nice of him, huh? He could have gotten her a stapler or something, after all.