Emma Turner's Story

SNAP!!!!!!!!! A loud crack rang out over the sparse deserted courtyard. Soldiers in combat fatigues bearing Legion military emblems rushed in from all angles gathering around the a black smear in the dirt. One of the soldiers kicked around the debris for a moment before shouting, "A firecracker? Who the hell?"

Heads swiveled violently as the soldiers began to search for the culprit. Emma Turner shrunk back into her "secret fort", a small hollow area under a pile of rubble that she had spent the better part of last summer clearing out. As the soldiers walked past she held her breath, collapsing into a fit of giggles the second they were out of ear shot. "That was EPIC." she remarked to the dirt covered stick-figure of a boy next to her. "Worth every piece of candy." Emma had gone three weeks at half rations to save up enough food and candy to trade the boy for his most prized possession, a firecracker scavenged on the outside by his dad before they had made it to the legion compound. Emma looked over to the little boy and smiled, "Aren't you glad I convinced you to come?"

The boy grinned, a smile bigger than any she had seen on him since he arrived 3 months ago. The boy's name was Zachery Albrecht and he had been near death when he first arrived. His family was one of the few straggling families to make it to the safety of the compound in the recent years. When Emma had first arrived at the camp people used to come in groups weekly. Seeking shelter from the horrors that existed outside the walls. Though sometimes even Emma wondered if this place could really be called a shelter. She never hated her time here though she new many of the adults would whisper about horrors being committed here, when they thought she wasn't listening. Even if she hadn't heard those things it wasn't hard to notice the suffering all around her, but in spite of all that this place was the only home Emma could remember, and the people here even the guards, were the only family she had.

As the years past by Emma decided that she was going to make it better. Whatever it took, she would make people smile again. The job was getting harder each day, but today, today was a success.

Zachery crawled out through the spare tire that made the door to the hideaway and Emma followed after him. Emerging into the afternoon sun Emma bent down to be eye to eye with the boy. "Now you remember, this is our secret you can't tell anyone about this hideout or what we just did, Okay?" The boy nodded vigorously, "Now head home, I have to get to work." The little boy smiled again and sprang off towards the shack his family called home.

Making people smile was not Emma's only responsibility in the compound. Like every member of this new world, she had to do her part. Her official job in the compound was tending to the public garden. Strolling past the armed guards posted to ensure no food was stolen, she entered the only green place left in the compound. She pulled weeds and emptied the sewage systems to water and fertilize the crops. The work was hard and took several hours to complete, but she was committed to her work.

Looking up carefully to make sure the guards weren't watching she slipped a carrot into her pocket. As she neared the far side of the garden a familiar shape popped up from behind a tomato plant. The soft white rabbit was an old friend to her and the single joy that she kept to herself. "Well hi there Fuzzy." Emma whispered to the small creature. "I have a nice carrot for you today." gingerly she fed the bunny holding it in her arms and stroking it softly. "Today was a good day, with any luck tomorrow will be even better."

Twin turtles danced slowly across the sky, morphing and twisting with the unusually soft and pleasant breeze. Emma laid on her back, eyes lazily half open watching the clouds go by. People wouldn't be so miserable if she could only get them to see this sort beauty.

She rolled over to her belly, and flipped a page in the magazine that was next to her on the barren dirt mound that made her lounge. The pictures showed beautiful people driving sparkling cars down sunny streets lined on either side by wonderfully green grass, Huge trees with leaves that were bigger than she was, brilliant colored star-burst shaped plants that her teacher had told her were called "flowers". It was all so perfect. People must have always been happy back then, how could you not be in a world that looked like that!

She sighed, one day I am going to find some "flowers" and plant them all over the compound. Slowly she folded her magazine up, and stood. There wasn't any school today, but Emma felt curious. She wanted to know what the world was like before everything happened, and she knew just who to talk to. She took off in a sudden sprint, spreading her arms out to catch the full blast of the breeze as she sped down the hill closing her eyes and imagining she was up in the sky along with the flying turtles.

She wasn't really sure where to find Mr. Reiner today, but if she had to guess, it was near Nadia house. He seemed to do a lot trading on his off days. So with a a slight skip in her step she headed toward the center of the civilian residential district, making a special effort to say hi to everyone she met along the way.

His limbs protested with each step--the short journey to her apartment growing into a seemingly long trek-- he could practically feel his face going slack as the bags under his eyes began to feel like literal bags, sacks of sand pulling him closer to the ground. He shook his head every so often to rattle his brain back into focus; he had to stay sharp. As the hot sun rose from its lair to torture the land with its sweltering heat, the town appeared almost normal. Perhaps if it weren't blanketed in otherworldly silence, it would seem almost like a brief respite from the apocalypse, something some pastoral-dwelling scholar would have wrote municipal poetry about--the pleasures of city life. The metropolitan scene could have been something from a painting--well, if the painter chose to leave out the poverty, government soldiers, and hungry little children. Thinking of children, his bleary gaze fell on a little girl from his class, Emma. He threw her a crooked smile and a wave of his shaky hand, eyes squinting against the bright daylight. He made a mental note to stop and properly say hello to her after he handled business with Nadia. That child worried him sometimes, so headstrong, which was dangerous in a place like this...The thought almost made Wes scoff, as he rubbed his eyes and twisted to keep trailing after his trader.

Once they made it in doors, he sighed with relief, letting her gentle hand guide him to a hard backed chair. Though there was no air conditioning, no one had luxuries like that anymore, the shade of being in doors offered a small reprieve from the sun. Nadia left him to rummage through her stores to find what he needed and after a few minutes of fruitless searching, she found herself standing on her tip-toes, long delicate fingers that could have belonged to a pianist in another life, stretching to try and reach a box on a tall shelf. "So,why are you in this state again,Wes?" She asked, voice strained with her posture. He slowly rose to help her, stumbling just a little as he came up behind her, chest brushing against her back as he used his height to pull the container down, handing it to her as she whirled around to face him.

"You don't wanna know; bad dreams and memories that beg for oblivion." He gruffly replied, his voice rough as if he had spent the night before gargling nails; a ghost of a smile dancing on his lips, a cruel mockery of sincere happiness.

Realizing his breath probably rank of alcohol and he was standing too close to the woman, he turned away from her to plop down a bit too roughly in his former seat. He leaned forward and snaked his calloused hand to the left cuff of his jeans, pulling up the fabric to reveal three Ontario M-nine Bayonet's he had obviously detached to use as tough, durable field knifes. He had tied them to his ankle with a sock. "Four twenty modified Stainless Steel, fully compatible for mounting on M sixteen A one, M sixteen A two, and pre-ban AR fifteen rifles. Full tang construction and milled sawteeth." He explained, cutting straight to business. These were very good knives, and he hoped she had very good liquor to trade for them.

His racing thoughts were a constant hum at the back of his mind and one by one, Wesley had tried to severe his ties with conscious thought, dulling his intellect with alcohol consumption, numbing all that he could, but he could never totally loose himself like he thought he wanted to. His ability to rationalize was only a small, flickering flame at the stem of his brain now, but it was still fire from his pre-apocalyptic forge; reminding him he once wanted to help others, to teach all he knew to young absorbent minds. Wes sometimes missed that feeling. He missed the certainty and understanding he once had in his purpose. But while his intellect sputtered and struggled to live within a host that kept his true self pinned down with liquor, he was still a quicker wit than most.

A somber note of silence rang out through the crowded streets. People carried out their business quietly, going inside if conversation was needed, most would find this odd. The sheer number of people on the street should raise a cacophony, but instead it seemed like someone had hit a mute button on the world.

Emma however noticed none of this, why should she? This was all she had ever known. Strolling carefree down the street the girl exchanged words with some, laughs with a few, but at least a smile with everyone. Her light was infectious, a purity that seemed immune to this world.

Walking down the road she saw a group of people making their way through the crowd. Armed guards escorted President Hopkins down the road, and Emma was able to lock eyes with the man as he passed. Dark eyes cast a worn look that hurt Emma's soul. Now if ever someone needed to see some flowers, that man did. Emma offered up her best smile to the President, hoping for one in return. She was disappointed when he looked away, with the same worn expression, but Emma was nothing if not an optimist, she would find a way to make EVERYONE happy even him, someday.

Her search for Mr. Reiner finally led her down a winding road in the heart of the residential area, right to Nadia's home. Nadia was one of Emma's best adult friends. She had a kind heart and was always ready to help when Emma needed something. Most recently it had been Nadia that had provided her with the candy she needed to trade for the firecracker, and Emma suspected many of her trades were not worth the amount Nadia gave.

Suddenly her eyes caught Nadia and sure enough Mr. Reiner was there with her. Nadia was already ushering a disheveled Mr. Reiner into her house, but Emma managed to catch his eye. A slight wave was all she got as he disappeared, into the house. Emma sighed as she made it to the door. A part of her knew that following them up might be an invasion of privacy, but Emma had never been a patient child. Well Nadia always did say that her door was always open Pushing her way in the door, she made her way up the stairs. Calling up to announce herself in playfully singsong voice. "Hey Nadia, its Emma. Mr. Reiner is here right?"

Wes mentally groaned, quickly bringing a hand up to roughly rub his weary eyes and using the other to smooth out his unkempt hair. A passing wave on the street was one thing, but for one of his students to see him up close and personal looking this atrocious made him feel like an ass. He was supposed to be a leading example, and here he was hung over and reeking, the stench of his own body cloying in his nostrils, his pores literally sweating the alcohol. But what was a guy to do? He had to drink, it was a sort of armor against the shittiness of the post-apocalyptic world he now lived in, a world without his wife...
He swiftly pulled his pant leg back down to cover his contraband weaponry just before Emma meandered her way into the room, not wanting her privy to anything illegal.

"Hey Em, hunting for trouble today? You're obviously up to no good, darkening this poor woman's doorstep." He teased, nickname bestowed out of something like wry affection, his voice soft and scratchy, hoarse but warm. This little girl was like her very own sunbeam, darkness in the room burning away in the face of her brightness. He idly wondered where she found the pink for her hair, so contrasting with the washed out and faded colors that they had grown accustomed to.

"How about we make you some breakfast? I know it's probably a disgusting idea for you right now, but it'll make you feel better." Nadia offered. Wes ran his tongue over his lower lip that was chapped, torn and raw. The prospect of food made his stomach roll, an internal roller coaster twisting his gut so that he might heave up bile as his stomach was devoid of any contents. He shut his eyes against the steady throbbing in his head that had built up from last night, the little red rose of pain that bloomed at the back of his skull. "Only if I am not putting you out, I'd hate to take away a precious commodity like food." He knew it'd sober him up to have a bite, and he could hardly refuse her kindness, he only hoped he'd be able to keep it down. "I promise to feed you next time you are at my place."

He looked back over to Emma and made a vain attempt at smiling, his body unperceptively shivering. He was always cold, these days, without the fire in his blood. No matter how he sweated he could still imagine ice forming in the tunnel of his breath, riming the walls of his veins. It was especially bad after drinking. But not drinking always unfailingly produced dreams of a certain nature that dredged up all the soft half-formed memories, the smeared impressions that otherwise lied under the surface of awareness like river silt. He was damned glad to be utterly shit faced when he could afford it if that meant he didn't have to dream.

"Hey Em, hunting for trouble today? You're obviously up to no good, darkening this poor woman's doorstep."

Emma smiled at the quip, and put on her most exaggerated innocent face. "Who me?" She squealed in mock offence. " I'll have you know I have never been caught doing anything wrong." That got a laugh out of both Nadia and Wesley.

Nadia turned to Wesley and asked, "How about we make you some breakfast? I know it's probably a disgusting idea for you right now, but it'll make you feel better."

Emma perked at the mention of breakfast. Nadia's french toast was famous around the compound, "Ooooh, can you make some of your french toast! Please!!." Furrowing her brow, Emma began to dig through the satchel she carried with her. Fishing out her notebook she thumbed the pages till she found what she was looking for. Tearing out the paper she handed it to Nadia. "Here, I know its not much but would this be ok to trade for some breakfast, I don't want to take something for nothing."

On the paper was one of Emma's many sketches. The simple lines flowed through to give it an airy light appearance, but the likeness was spot on. In the picture Nadia was portrayed on one of the many city streets, crouching down and smiling at a small child while handing him a water bottle.

Nadia looked at the picture and smiled, before starting to gather the supplies she needed to prepare the meal.

As Nadia cooked, Emma picked the disheveled teachers brain. Her overabundant curiosity completely blinding her to his fatigued state. She wanted to know every detail about life before the infection. She was in awe of the stories she heard. It was like a fairy tale to Emma, the idea that everyday life used to contain such things. She laughed when he told her about swimming pools, imagine the absurdity wasting that much water!

Lost in their conversation Emma was surprised when Nadia placed the steaming plate of food in front of her. Dripping in butter and syrup, the sweet aroma of the dish scattered any further questions from her mind as she tore into the meal. Silent smiles spread over the trio as they enjoyed their food.

Emma stopped chewing as she heard the sound of footsteps coming down the hall. As a man entered the room Emma dropped her fork and jumped up from the table to give the man a hug. "Dr. Frasier, What are you doing on this side of compound?"

Daylight streamed in through the hole filled sheet that made up the blinds in the run down apartment bedroom. As the light struck the room, Kurt sneered in disgust at the hovel of a dwelling this woman lived in. Its almost not even worth the sex, Kurt thought to himself as he pulled on his tailor made dress slacks. He cast one more glance at the naked sleeping form of Teresa lying on the bed, and smiled to himself, well, almost.

He ran over his mental checklist for the day as he finished dressing. He had a dozen patients before lunch, and then he had to start testing the genetic profiles he had amassed on each of the legion residents, for promising candidates to be subject 43. Sighing to himself he ran an exasperated hand through his golden locks. It was going to be a long and tedious day, a sniff through the air however brightened his mood. Someone was making breakfast.

Strolling down the hall he came upon, three civilians eating french toast around a small table. One of them jumped up immediately as he entered the room.

"Dr. Frasier, What are you doing on this side of compound?" The exuberant little girl asked.

Filing through his memories he found the young girls name. "Ah, my little Emma! How have you been since your last check? Not eating to much candy I hope?" Kurt laughed with the practiced enthusiasm he prided himself of. The emotions of kindness and caring painted on his face with the skill of a trained actor. "I actually was just stopping by to do a check up on Ms. Rivers roomate Teresa. She has been requiring some ... special attention these past few days."

A cursory look at the trio of diners was all Kurt needed to determine that Wesley was probably plastered, at best he might be starting to sober, but the stench of alcohol reached him easily from across the room. A devilish smile crawled across Kurt's mind as he sat down with the group. Helping himself to some of the delicious looking food, Kurt placed a bottle of Ibuprofen on the table. "I think this should cover the cost of my meal, I do apologize Nadia but your french toast is just to much to pass up." Kurt remarked with a winning smile, before settling his attention onto Wesley.

"Mr. Riener! my you look like death. I do hope you haven't caught anything. I have my emergency bag with me, if you want me to take a look at you." Perfectly practiced mock seriousness held in his voice, but he knew the man was aware of his intentions. Alcohol was strictly banned among the civilian populace, and as a high ranking member of the Legion infrastructure, it would be perfectly within his rights for Frasier to report him, and action which would almost certainly result in severe ration penalties if not physical punishment.

Kurt however had no real interest in reporting Wesley. He did however love to see people squirm. Pressing the issue the doctor leaned forward. "What's the matter, Mr. Riener? You've got nothing to hide, right?"

Wesley smiled warmly at Emma's slip of paper that seemed as delicate as the rail thin minor herself, catching a glimpse of it as she passed it to Nadia. "That's really quite good Emmy." He affectionately praised. "I had no idea you were such an artist." They chatted for a bit while they waited on breakfast, discussing everything from football games to swimming pools. She was so eager to soak up any and all information, and his eyes were beginning to blur from fatigue, so he closed them to better focus on her words. He forgot how long it had been since he last slept through the night; if the sky was dark, there had been a bottle in his hand. Nadia soon joined them and they all grew quiet, too busy shoveling food down their gullets to worry themselves with polite conversation.

Dr. Frasier's voice was like the crack of a whip, and Wes sat bolt upright, taken aback by the sudden intrusion. He cringed when his eyes moved over to meet Kurt's. "Mr. Riener! my you look like death. I do hope you haven't caught anything. I have my emergency bag with me, if you want me to take a look at you." He asked, feigning concern. Wes smiled weakly. "No, honestly it's probably just-" "What's the matter, Mr. Riener? You've got nothing to hide, right?" He asked, cutting the rather hungover school teacher off. Wesley paused for a long moment as the words sunk into him, like rain into parched soil. Dr. Frasier pulled a heavy chair close, the feet scraping the floor with a rasping moan, and sat down with the group, minus an invatation.

Wes' pain and sickness seemed to burn away with a raging fire that could purify even the most intoxicated of men, melt them down and reforge them as vengeful heroes or wrathful gods from the drunkards they were. "No. So odd that a conclusion like that would of come to you. Most honest men's minds don't drift in such directions." He replied sharply, eyes suddenly more clear, sparkling with a deviousness. He did not like to be threatened. Wes faked a chuckle and clapped the pysician on the back, a bit too roughly. "I am only kidding, so glad you could join us Doc."