Us vs. the Apocalypse
Title: Maybe
Word Count: 507
Author's Note: This was originally written from Aura's point of view ( High School) and here I switch it to Mason's. Have I mentioned lately how much I love these two? Because I really love these two. And I especially love how Mason has evolved over the course of my various rewrites, going from a character that was exclusively comic relief to perhaps the most developed character in the story. The quote at the end is from "Children of Men".
Dixon was nearly panicking by the time they met at the muster point, babbling something about Aura not responding to him over the radio. Mason listened to him for a few moments as he scanned their immediate surroundings, piecing together where she would have gone. He wasn't worried - far from it, actually, because he knew that if anything had gone sideways he would have heard something. A cry for help, a bullet, anything. Aura wasn't the type to be caught by surprise or go down quietly, and when his eyes fell on the swinging doors of the high school across the street he excused himself and told the others he'd be back with their wandering captain in a few minutes.
She hadn't made it far. He spotted her about thirty paces inside the door, standing in the middle of the hallway with her fingers picking at the thighs of her flight pants, the way they always did when she was lost in thought. Maybe it was the knowledge that there were probably still kids in the school that had kept her from going further, or maybe it was the sideswipe of memory - it certainly sent an odd feeling through him, looking around at the painted posters, the trophy cases celebrating the wins of the volleyball and basketball teams, the tarnished combination locks still hanging from the rows and rows of lockers. He fumbled for the pack of cigarettes in his pocket and quickly pinched one between his lips, suddenly desperate for a smoke, but couldn't seem to bring himself to light it. Three day suspension, a small voice in the back of his mind reminded. Dad'll kill you if it happens again.
Her eyes were closed when he reached her side, and rather than startle her he simply stood and waited, studying the way the fading light played off the slight sunburn across the bridge of her nose, the dust caked into the tangled curls of her bangs, the way her pained thoughts pinched her lips and the corners of her eyes. What would it have been like, he wondered, if they'd ever had the chance to be normal high school students? If the world hadn't ended, if he'd been able to meet her half his life ago? Maybe they would have been friends, maybe more than friends, maybe the pretty girl with the razor wit could have actually fallen for the black sheep outcast, maybe...
She opened her eyes and looked up at him as if she'd heard his thoughts, not at all surprised to see him there, her hazel green eyes so wide and sad in the dimness that he had to force himself to turn away.
"As the sound of playgrounds faded, the despair set in," he heard himself quote softly, another shred of memory. "Very odd, what happens in a world without children's voices." He looked up at the wide banner hanging across the hallway - WELCOME SPARTANS - and sighed heavily. "Truck's out front," he told her, his voice choking painfully. "Time to go."
Word Count: 507
Author's Note: This was originally written from Aura's point of view ( High School) and here I switch it to Mason's. Have I mentioned lately how much I love these two? Because I really love these two. And I especially love how Mason has evolved over the course of my various rewrites, going from a character that was exclusively comic relief to perhaps the most developed character in the story. The quote at the end is from "Children of Men".
Dixon was nearly panicking by the time they met at the muster point, babbling something about Aura not responding to him over the radio. Mason listened to him for a few moments as he scanned their immediate surroundings, piecing together where she would have gone. He wasn't worried - far from it, actually, because he knew that if anything had gone sideways he would have heard something. A cry for help, a bullet, anything. Aura wasn't the type to be caught by surprise or go down quietly, and when his eyes fell on the swinging doors of the high school across the street he excused himself and told the others he'd be back with their wandering captain in a few minutes.
She hadn't made it far. He spotted her about thirty paces inside the door, standing in the middle of the hallway with her fingers picking at the thighs of her flight pants, the way they always did when she was lost in thought. Maybe it was the knowledge that there were probably still kids in the school that had kept her from going further, or maybe it was the sideswipe of memory - it certainly sent an odd feeling through him, looking around at the painted posters, the trophy cases celebrating the wins of the volleyball and basketball teams, the tarnished combination locks still hanging from the rows and rows of lockers. He fumbled for the pack of cigarettes in his pocket and quickly pinched one between his lips, suddenly desperate for a smoke, but couldn't seem to bring himself to light it. Three day suspension, a small voice in the back of his mind reminded. Dad'll kill you if it happens again.
Her eyes were closed when he reached her side, and rather than startle her he simply stood and waited, studying the way the fading light played off the slight sunburn across the bridge of her nose, the dust caked into the tangled curls of her bangs, the way her pained thoughts pinched her lips and the corners of her eyes. What would it have been like, he wondered, if they'd ever had the chance to be normal high school students? If the world hadn't ended, if he'd been able to meet her half his life ago? Maybe they would have been friends, maybe more than friends, maybe the pretty girl with the razor wit could have actually fallen for the black sheep outcast, maybe...
She opened her eyes and looked up at him as if she'd heard his thoughts, not at all surprised to see him there, her hazel green eyes so wide and sad in the dimness that he had to force himself to turn away.
"As the sound of playgrounds faded, the despair set in," he heard himself quote softly, another shred of memory. "Very odd, what happens in a world without children's voices." He looked up at the wide banner hanging across the hallway - WELCOME SPARTANS - and sighed heavily. "Truck's out front," he told her, his voice choking painfully. "Time to go."