Snippet #2398062

The new order had come in. Glued to my worktop I started assembling it, modifying it, piece by piece. There was a strange satisfaction as the tools and components I required all found themselves to be within my reach, it’s like it was meant to be. My finished work lay under a tarp as celebrating suits entered, though it felt as if I’d only just started. “You’ve done it this time”, the finest dressed of them all announced “This model will render all others obsolete”. It’s unique.

We stepped through the workshop entrance where they had come from, still in high moods, directly into a restaurant. This was an extremely fancy place, tactful floating lights with spacious booths; we climbed onto our beds gingerly and the others seemed to dissolve away. My order arrived on an automated silver platter and I drew the seductive smell towards me, laying down I lifted the dish to reveal my own leg.

I snapped awake, my dreams fleeing from my head. For a moment I was lost, I didn’t remember how I got here. Boston, fire. I sat up and upon doing so realised the pain Ahhhhhhhhh. I was screaming in my head and I’m sure I was twitching to match. “Easy there easy bake”, a calm voice pandered “Who taught you how to play with fire anyway?”.

It took a few minutes for my breathing to slowly draw closer its regular rhythm, and Boston continued to use his words to no effect, the pain wasn’t lessening but I was getting used to it. I didn’t remember falling asleep, though I had similarly fallen asleep working on other projects before. I stared at my leg, it didn’t look like mine anymore I wonder what it tastes like. The clothing had been completely destroyed just past the knee and the revealed skin looked deep red and crispy, I wasn’t about to attempt getting up. My foot in comparison looked promising, the thick boots I was wearing seemed to have protected at least that much, though the area where it joined the clothing looked challenging.

Seeing as I was in no hurry to move I relaxed a bit, my eyes eventually reaching the mansion. Well I mean the rubble. What used to be an enormous and stately building was now left a piled of charred beams, ankle high brickwork and glowing embers; the warmth was actually quite cosy. I scanned around for my buggy, my mind already preparing for the worst, when I encountered the empty space. Well to say it was empty was a misdirection, it had plenty of burning ashes there, but nothing reminiscing the salvaged beauty.

“Did you move it”, I questioned Boston, still staring at the vacant space.

I felt his eyes on me, “Huh? You? Of course, your welcome”, he proclaimed boldly.

“My buggy”, I replied dryly, motioning towards where it used to be with an arm wincing at the stab of pain from both my leg and shoulder I’d forgotten about you too.

“No idea, nothing there when I carried you out”, I replied. He continued talking but I wasn’t listening again.

The absence of my ride gave me purpose and I lifted myself up, much to the protests of Boston... and to my own roaring regret, but I was standing. Bending my knee had delivered a new degree of pain and yet my resolve didn’t budge. I was a survivor, I needed supplies. I think Boston was helping me, I couldn’t really tell through the pain, but I hobbled towards the gate; away from the empty parking spaces.

It took a great deal of time, trying not to use my handicapped leg and keeping it straight. The pain wasn’t subsiding and I was beginning to struggle under the stress of moving. I’m sure Boston was still talking but I couldn’t hear him over my own thoughts, he probably wanted to give me a break but I couldn’t stop. We reached the overbearing gate and made our way out and to the nearest vehicle. Not the latest model but the Travillion Alpha X4 could move… I limped to the vehicle reaching for its front, the side glowed a slight blue and slid away leaving me to tinker shortly if its restrictor is removed; I tossed it on the ground .

The rear door dissolved away as I climbed in and I painfully manoeuvred in, resting on the seats as it folded back into a more mattress like shape. “Let’s get out of here”, I told Boston, though I wasn’t even looking in his direction.

“I think you won’t be going anywhere”, a tortured voice shrieked as I heard him cock his gun. I tilted my head back to see the crazy guy from that wonderfully hospitable home the other day. I kinda deserve this I grinned.