Heading Home

Being armed meant we didn't have to be quite so quiet on the way back. As we walk we chat in low voices. There was jovial, almost celebratory, feeling between us. Despite my flagging endurance there was a lightness to my heart. We had food, we had protection, we had shelter, and we had agreeable company. Truly a fine situation for a couple of...scroungers.

Ugh, that still didn't sit right with me. A scrounger. A skittering shit bug eating the refuse of the world. It was a label that felt beneath me. I was accustomed to being one of the apex predators of the Wastes, being a part of a wolf pack roaming and doing as we pleased. I had taken pride in it, even though I now realized it was nothing to be proud of. I wasn't a raider any longer though. As I watch Gabby clutch her hard earned bundle of scavenge to her body I realize I wasn't even a scrounger. I was a scrounger's patient and bodyguard.

She looks over to see me watching her and gives me a smile. Eh, maybe this wasn't so bad. “What's up?” She asks.

I just shrug my shoulders.

“Voice hurts, huh?”

I nod. Did it ever. My ankle too was now roaring with pain. I couldn't wait to get home again.

“Need to rest?” She asks, her face full of worry as she see's me starting to struggle.

I shake my head no.

She slows her pace. “Um...actually, I do. I'm feeling so tired. Can we stop for bit?” Without waiting for an answer she sets her bundle down on the edge of the partially exposed concrete foundation of some small building that had long since been decimated. It hadn't been a house, it was too little. She sits on the ledge created by the revealed foundation.

She was tired? She was so obviously lying that it was almost insulting. But she was doing it to save my pride. So that I might rest without having to admit my weakness. She had noticed me struggling to keep up. It was one of those well meaning little white lies I would expect a woman to say to a man. Is that how she saw me? As a man? I wasn't upset, though I wasn't exactly pleased at the deception either.

I call her out bluntly. “Liar.” I grunt even as I sit down beside her. Ohhhh it felt good to get the weight off of my ankle and to let my body rest. Before she can take offense I then add. “Thanks.”

I see her shoulders relax as she realized she wouldn't have to continue to try to deceive me to assuage my ego. She sidles up beside me and we sat hip to hip. I knew now that she always sat so close for insecurity reasons, but I fucking loved it. I loved having her so close to me. She plants her far hand on the edge of the ledge and swings her feet forward and back in a child like way. The back of her shoes going clap, clap as they bounce lightly off the side of the foundation. Her good spirit was expressing itself in her every motion. We sit and look out over the forest and a collapsed house that was just across the road from us.

She starts up her chatter, much to my approval. “You're big and strong.” She starts. “When you're feeling better I think we'll check that house out. You can move some stuff that I can't.” She points to a particular section. “The kitchen was there. If we can get into the pantry there might be some canned goods.” And so she goes.

I listen to her talk as my eyes scan for any signs of danger. When I was sure all seemed safe I set down my gun at my side and slide an arm around my chatty companion. She doesn't miss a beat, seemingly completely comfortable by the gesture. If anything she shifts closer to me.

I had been listening to her but something particularly catches my ear as she goes. “At my wedding we had canned peaches and pears. They were so sweet!” She had this same excited tone when she had told me about the crawfish, Gabby sure loved good food. “You wouldn't believe it Willow. And the juice! Mmmm! They didn't even a hint of bitterness like the fresh fruit we find...”

I speak up before she rambles on into a new subject. “Wedding? Husband?” I rasp. She had mentioned before that she was married, or had been, and needless to say I was curious.

She looks up at me with a sudden vulnerability. She is quiet for a time. “Um...yeah. Um...ex-husband. When you are banished the marriage becomes null and void by law. And...when...when you're labeled as a...not pure...” She couldn't even bring herself to say the word mutant in this context. “...it is also becomes illegitimate...by the church. God can't bless a non-human union.” She takes a long deep breath. “They made such a mistake, I wish they had seen that. I don't understand how they couldn't see what a mistake they made. God would never...” She trails off.

“Husband...come with...Gabby?” I ask.

She is staring down, her feet no longer swinging happily, she was now still. There is another long quiet moment, just the natural sounds of wind through branch filling the silence. I am about to move the obviously difficult conversation on when she finally says. “No, he didn't come with me Willow. No, he was the one who...reported me.”

I rest my hand on her slender shoulder and pull her into my side. Holding her as she opened up.

“Um...when I heal um...at night, you see, um, even my uh...hymen heals. It's like the first time every time.” Her voice was barely more than a whisper. “I...I didn't realize that when we married. I'd never been with anyone. He soon realized I wasn't normal.” She lets out a shuddering breath. “I begged him not to tell. And he didn't, for a while. But...um...” She clears her throat, holding back the tears. “God, not again. I'm sorry Willow. I don't usually cry so much.” She sniffles. “You must think me so weak.”

I hold her tight and kiss her head. I whisper. “Gabby...strong.” I meant those words from the bottom of my heart.

She rests her head on my breast. “So...we tried to have a baby, but... I guess I'm infertile or something.” I feel her whole body tremble. She says in a hushed tearful voice. “I want a baby so bad Willow. I prayed...I prayed so hard.” She clenches her fists and her tense body shakes. “I prayed with everything I had Willow. I went to church every single day. I prayed...Padre Diaz prayed...my mother prayed.” I feel as she was willfully controlling her breathing, stopping herself from completely breaking down again. She clears her throat again. “Um...so anyways. Once I couldn't give him a baby. Um, I think...he just didn't want me anymore.” She then says in a tiny soft voice. “I can't blame him.”

I bring my good arm around and fully embrace her, holding her close.

“My parents asked him not to, offered him everything they had, but he reported me anyways. I tried to explain how it was all a mistake. How it was God's blessing.” She goes quiet before she says. “Padre Diaz said God doesn't work that way. That miracles don't happen like that. That...that it was Satan's work...that I was... Whoo. Um, anyways, I thought he of all people would be there for me. That he would understand how I just couldn't be a mutant. I was so faithful. But Padre didn't seem to understand. It was like he couldn't even...see me anymore.”

Betrayed by her husband and betrayed by her priest. Bad enough to be banished, but what a way to go.

“Parents?” I ask gently.

“They're still there. We cried. I tried to hug them but I wasn't allowed. They begged the council to allow me to stay. They pulled in every favor they had, nothing mattered. Justice is...swift in the colonies. They watched from the wall as I left. My last memory of my Mom was her begging the sniper not to shoot me.” I had heard that once banished by a colony a person had to walk, without pause, until completely out of sight or be shot. “The last memory of my Dad was him weeping as he watched me go. I miss them.” She whispers. She straightens up and wipes her eyes. “They gave me a bunch of stuff before I left. I had it all stolen within the first day.”

She pats her bundle of goodies and shakes the bad feelings from her like a wet dog drying itself. “Okay, I'm done! I'm done! This is a good day! I'm done crying damn it! Gah!”

We share a soft laugh then a friendly hug. I nod my agreement. “Let's...go home.” The short rest had done me a world of good and I was ready for the last stretch.

Gabriela, legs swinging once more, agrees. “I have some unlabeled cans. Who knows. Maybe one of them is peaches!”

Gabby grabs her stuff and hops down, eager to move on. I gingerly get to my feet, leaning heavily on my cane. After picking up my gun we are soon off toward home again.