in the night, and went inside.
Complete darkness enveloped Ellyssa like a cocoon. She stopped and listened. Other than the deadened pattering of rain on the roof, and drips plopping on weathered wood, there was silence.
She swept her crutch in front of her. The wood slapped against something soft. She prodded and it gave way, gripping the stick. Stifling a scream, she yanked hard and stumbled back a step. Mold and the odor of rot resonated within the scent of ozone.
Fevered mind envisioning decomposing flesh, ragged muscles and tendons sloughing off bone, Ellyssa’s breath seized and bile rose. On the verge of terror, a harmful emotion, she swallowed hard and leaned against the wall.
Rumbling resonated from the sky, and electricity sliced through the heavens, lighting the store in brilliance. She glanced at the pile. For a split second, her hallucination was realized before darkness swallowed the image. Flash. A pile of rotten rags. She blinked. Another burst of light. Rags and old tarps.
Worn out, Ellyssa slid down the wall and curled into a ball.
10
Mumbled voices with strange accents danced on the edge of Ellyssa’s consciousness, fuzzy and unclear, panicky and angry…distant. Unsure whether she was dreaming or hallucinating, she concentrated on the syllables, trying to comprehend through the swirling fog of her fevered brain. Understanding registered at the sound of a round being chambered.
Her eyes remained closed.
“What do you think she’s doing here?” The voice was deep, hard. Definitely male.
“I don’t know.” Irritated. A male, too.
“Look at her hair. I bet she’s part of a patrol,” a musical voice hissed. Female.
“Really? Do you see what she’s wearing?” Another male, but his tone was tinny, nasally, as if he had a cold. Very unpleasant.
“No. She’s hurt. Look at her,” said the male with the deep voice. “They wouldn’t let her continue in that condition.”
Ellyssa’s mind wandered into the crowd. The readings she received felt surreal, dreamlike. She registered four people. Confused, worried, and angry. Especially the female. All of them surrounded her. Images of pump- action shotguns pointing at her crumpled body filtered through.
Her head throbbed. She pulled out.
“Whatever. She got lost.” The female again. “Others will come.” Footsteps faded toward the door. “I say we dispose of her.”
“No,” said the deep voice.
“I think she’s right, Rein.” The tinny sound grated along Ellyssa’s spine.
“No,” said the male with the deep voice…Rein? “The discussion is closed.”
“Exactly when did we discuss this?” said the male who had sounded irritated before.
“Shut up, Woody.”
“I’m serious. This could be very dangerous. What if someone’s looking for her?”
“Wake her up.” The female’s footfalls echoed back to the others. “We’ll ask her.”
“I think she’s already awake,” said Rein. He tapped the tip of her shoe.
Ellyssa stayed still and kept her eyes closed, her breath even. She projected outward, ignoring the thumping and the haziness. She had to concentrate. She ventured from head to head. Her body remained the target of the barrels of shotguns—12 gauges. She waited.
“You do the honors, Jason.”
“Cover me,” said Jason, nasally. “Hey.” Cold steel, like the feel of ice cubes, poked her wrist. Goosebumps rose and trailed up her bicep, finding her spinal cord. She fought against the shiver. “Wake up.”
The sound of a boot scraping against the floor, as if the owner was preparing to kick, alerted her to danger. Before he had a chance, Ellyssa leapt to her feet.
“Stop her,” someone yelled. She thought it was the one called Woody.
With one lithe movement, her foot connected with Jason’s hand and the shotgun clattered to the floor. She whirled around and performed a back kick into the female’s stomach. Hissy Voice backpedaled and fell against some shelves. Wood snapped on impact.
Ellyssa stumbled as darkness rolled on the edge of her vision. She struggled against it. She spun, feebly attempting to take out the one they called Woody. A shot fired and echoed around her, disorienting her. She fell.
“I told you this was dangerous.” The voice sounded far away, like someone was speaking from the other end of a tunnel.
“Shut up and help me.”
Blackness laid a cold hand on Ellyssa.
11
A feeling of floating, and images of reds, browns, yellows, and white wavered in and out of Ellyssa’s awareness. Colorful hues and shades blurred around the edges. Bright lights burned her eyes and scorched her flesh, especially her leg. Something was burning it. At one time, she thought she’d screamed. If not, she’d wanted to.
Alternating feelings of hot and cold. Sweating and shivering. Angry voices. Intrigued voices. All filtered through. She wasn’t sure whether any of it was real or if it was all a dream. She didn’t care. She welcomed the darkness when it had sucked her away from the confusion. Welcomed the calmness and the blankness.
Ellyssa would have welcome it now, but she was awake. The burning sensation had been extinguished. The pain had not. A thin blanket covered her, and she was lying on something softer than the ground, her head resting on a pillow. Musty air smelled like fresh dirt, as if someone had turned the soil recently. And even though the area seemed open and lit, from what light filtered through her eyelids, it felt dark and enclosed, too.
She listened intently. Everything was silent. Before opening her eyes, she waited for another few seconds to make sure. In the distance, barely noticeable, she heard the shuffling of soft footsteps. Not the clicking of soles against tile, like back at The Center, but muffled and dulled. The owner of the footsteps entered the room and approached her bed. Cool, rough fingers, those of a male, gently grasped her wrist. She fought an impulse to yank away.
Whoever was taking her pulse let go and scratched something down on paper.
Ellyssa searched his mind. No ill-will tainted his thoughts. Mostly concern, and clear images of how she was posing as something once human. A ghastly face, greyish skin, sunken cheeks and eyes, cracked lips, and her hair stuck to her head in thick, tangled clumps. It would’ve been more befitting if a tag hung from her big toe.
Her head began to pound. She broke the link.
The male walked away, but didn’t leave. She felt his presence lingering.
More footsteps, this owner stealthier, entered the room. She heard water sloshing in a glass.
“How is she, Doc?” whispered a deep voice she recognized.
The male who’d just spoken was from the store. What was his name? Rein?
“The fever is gone, and her pulse is steady and strong,” Doc replied, his voice gentle and caring.
Ellyssa wasn’t sure where she was, but she was far from The Center. The way they spoke was different than what she’d come across before. Their cadence was soft and slow.
It hit her. The sounds of the footsteps. The enclosed feeling. The scent of soil. She wasn’t within the custody of anyone from society. She was underground.
