Maybe, even, the Great Blight would be dead.
Well, I doubted that last one for sure. Things were coming to a head, more now than ever. We were all going to get the chance to finish what we had started.
Killing Black would be closure for both Samuel and Anna, as well, whose lives had been destroyed from the Los Angeles takeover — Samuel, for the same reasons as Makara, and Anna, because her settlement had been invaded by the Black Reapers when she was a kid. That had caused her and her mother to wander the Wasteland for survival, had caused her to start training on the katana.
So many things had happened because of the death of one man. And so many more things were left to happen, to be decided.
As Boss Dragon and his men piled into their Recon and drove away for the Strip, Makara faced us.
“Come on. We got what we came for.”
We turned from the runway, making our way to the Sunset Gate.
Chapter 12
It was evening, and Anna and I stood on the overpass, about a hundred yards from
“This place is done,” Anna said.
She was right. It was only a matter of time. Out there, behind our backs to the east, an entire army of Blighters lurked. It was far too quiet. They were planning something big. I felt it. It was all going to come crashing down, soon.
I was worried that we were not going to be able to get everyone out of here fast enough.
“Makara was actually able to convince them,” I said. “I was half-expecting to die back there.”
Anna smiled. “Only half?”
“Alright. Maybe it was a little more.”
We gazed together at the sunset. The blood-red colors intermingled with the desert ground, and the sun sunk beneath the final line of the horizon. Not the sun itself, for it was blocked by thick, bulbous clouds. When the sun’s glow finally disappeared, the land was covered in darkness.
“Do you think we can stop it?” I asked.
Anna didn’t answer for a moment.
“I don’t know. I’d like to believe so. We got further than I thought we would today. I really did think there was a good chance we wouldn’t live to have this conversation right now.” She smiled. “I think we can, though.”
She grew quiet, and I didn’t know why. I looked at her, searching those eyes that stared off at the fading horizon. There was sadness there I didn’t understand. I wanted to ask her what it was, but the words never formed. It was a deep sorrow that made me ache to see it. I wished I could make it go away, to see her smile again.
I turned her to face me, and saw that she was crying. I kissed her. Sometimes, words were not enough to show someone how you felt. Some things, like love, could only be expressed fully when you threw your all into it — your mind, your spirit, your movement.
Her lips moved against mine. It felt she was kissing me so as not to lose me. I didn’t understand what that meant, at least, not at that moment.
She parted from me, and looked me full in the face. I laid my head on top of hers, felt her hair against my cheek. I never wanted to let go. I wanted her to know that I never would.
“I’m here to stay,” I said. “I promise.”
She shook with sobs. Before I could even ask what was wrong, she spoke.
“I know you do,” she said. “But sometimes, the wanting isn’t enough. Sometimes, fate has other plans.”
“Anna, what are you talking about?” I asked, softly. “It’s true. Wherever you go, I’ll go with you. Even if you were to go off running to the east, I would follow you there.”
She laughed into my chest. “Would you?”
I held her by the shoulders, looking her in the eyes. “Of course I would. You’re my Sweet Pea.”
She smiled. “Sweet Pea?”
“What, you’ve never heard that before?”
She shook her head.
I laughed. “Sometimes, I forget how sheltered you surface dwellers are. You’ve got to get down with the lingo.”
“I’ve never heard it,” she said. “I like it, though.”
“No more sadness,” I said. “We have to enjoy this. It’s rare to find someone like this, in a world like this. It’s almost enough…”
I trailed off, and she looked up at me. Her eyes questioned, wanting me to go on. But even I wasn’t sure enough to go on.
“Almost enough for what?”
“I’m not even sure,” I said. “I hope that the more time I spend with you, the more I can find out.”
“That makes two of us, then.”
I took a deep breath, holding my arms out to the breeze. Anna looked at me, not saying anything. I had no idea what the gesture meant.
It takes courage to open up to a world that isn’t worth opening up to. That courage is part of our humanity, part of our noble defiance — and all we can do is pray that it’s worth it.
And I wasn’t going to let the promise of pain stop me from trying.
We now sat in the darkness, against the freeway railing. We could have been anywhere in the world, and I would still be perfectly content, because I was with her. We talked about a lot of things, saying everything unfiltered, whatever came to mind, judging nothing, loving everything. We talked that way for an hour, the best conversation I’d ever had with anyone.
Somehow, though, the conversation turned to the weather.
“Why is it so warm?” I asked. “For December.”
Anna said nothing. Maybe it was just the warmth of her body against mine. She settled her head onto my chest.
“The Wasteland has two seasons,” Anna said. “Cold, and colder. The colder just hasn’t hit yet.”
“It’s almost 2061 now.”
“The months and days don’t matter much on the surface,” Anna said. “We’ve gone past that. The last tolling of any consequence was the impact of Ragnarok. Since then, no other pendulum could ever shake us.”
“That’s…very poetic. And dark.”
She shrugged. “It happens sometimes.”
“Poetry?”
She snickered.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing. I just thought of saying something really cheesy. Like, ‘poetry is life.’” She paused. “Something like that.”
“That’s not cheesy.”
She leaned up against the railing of the bridge, so now we were shoulder to shoulder. If there was anything Anna could do, it was surprise me. She was smart, decisive, strong — and when she was quiet, she was probably thinking of things I could never understand. She became lost in moments, moments she couldn’t be shaken from.
