Ice in the Desert Chunk 6

The full effects of a night without the sleeping pills gets to Black Ice, and she recalls some haunting memories of White Ghost, everyone's favorite sociopath. SURPRISE!

I can't sleep. I can't keep my eyes shut; they keep snapping open. I'm tired and would do anything to sleep, but I can't, I just can't. This must be the sleep-thingie that Ghost told me about. I roll over and try to get comfortable, but the effort is useless. I sit up, and look around in the dark. My eyes adjusted a long time. It wasn't absolutely dark; there was a little crack under the door that let just a sliver in. It was just enough to allow me to see formless lumps in the dark. I slip silently out of the makeshift bed and make my way to the door. I hope quietly that no one will awake by my opening the door. I gently and slowly pull it open, and the door, flinching when it creaks a slight bit. Someone stirs in the dark, and I hold my breath, but the movement stopped and I slipped out the door, shutting it behind me and cringing at the sound it makes when shutting.

I stand in the dimly lit hallway, and start down the path to the main room. It's pitch black in there, and that's when I take note of how hallways are only dimly lit, while rooms aren't lit at all. I make my way along the edge of the main room and climb up the ladder, pushing the rock out of the way when I get to the top. I climb out, and marvel at the beautiful stars of the desert. I usually didn't bother to look at them, I usually fell right to sleep. Besides, I was under a rock overhang that would shield me from Vampires lurking out here. I pushed the rock back over the top of the hole, and lay down under the overhang to look out at the stars. Stars. Shimmering little white dots that remind me of why someone must rebel against the Battery City tyrants, which I now know to be the BLI. Saving the view of these stars. No, scratch that, saving those that can recognize the beauty in the night sky to marvel at the view. The stars will always be here, but people that will notice their luster might not.

I almost expect, hope, for someone to come and find me up here, someone for me to talk to, like Ghost, Scorch and Crimson, Malice, perhaps, maybe even Poison. But no one comes. I'm left to my own thoughts, and an uncomfortable subject arises. Occasionally I remember what I usually put out of my head, for better or worse. But I start thinking about Ghost. Not really him, but his coldness. It always strikes me as odd; the way he only truly talks to me with emotion. Sometimes he fakes it with others, and though he convinces them, I can see it in his eyes that he isn't like that. I sigh tiredly and rest my head on my hand. I recall a time where we ran into a pair of kids not unlike ourselves. I try and block the memory from fully surfacing; it's one of those encounters I don't want to think about. I want to avoid thinking about it. But I can't, and images and feelings from long ago bombard me.

A long time ago, when I had first started journeying with Ghost at about nine or ten, we were heading back to our former camp on the edges of the City. It wasn't the best place to live, but we made it work. We had just arrived back to this place, a little hollow in the dunes that we had our supplies in, to find two other kids eating there, staring up at us as if they weren't sure what to make of our arrival. I'm sure they would've been nice, and might've even joined up with us, but they never got the chance. Ghost was none too happy to find the pair, and immediately attacked them, knocking them unconscious. For being around my current age, potentially younger, he was fairly powerful. He then tied them up with some cloth, and pushed them to the other side of the hollow. He told me that he'd take care of the problem, and that I should take a nap for a little while. He warned me not to look over to where they were until he said I could, and handed me a couple bits of fabric to put in my ears. He never told me why, and being a little kid, I just accepted it, trusting he knew what he was doing.

I remember laying there facing a wall on the other side of the hollow for a while, tracing my finger in the dirt, making silly little patterns, and out of a little boredom and mischievousness I took a quick glance over to the other end, and immediately regretted it. I turned back quickly, heart pumping, trying to deny the brief, hazy images of the red splattered everywhere, of the faces drawn tight in pain, of the delighted, ecstatic grin against the younger version of my partner's face, of the glint of bright, glittering steel. Eventually he had come and shaken me, pulling the fabric out of my ears and telling me everything was fine now. I glanced up at him, and I didn't see any signs of blood or of evil. I just saw Ghost, looking as normal as ever, with his ever-steely eyes. To this day, I can't tell whether or not I actually saw those horrifying scenes, whether or not they were real or just the nightmare of a little kid with a broad imagination.

Even with this, I've never felt unsafe around Ghost. In fact, I've never felt safer than when I'm with him. It's like some part of me feels like he cares for me more than any other person ever could. Since I know that he'll always stay with me, I'll similarly always be at his side. It's just when I sometimes see him looking at someone else, he's almost unrecognizable, scary, one might say. I saw that look when we were talking to Poison. It sent shivers down my spine.

My thoughts refocus on this strange guy. He somehow ended up as the only adult in the group. No one, from what I can tell at least, knows his name or where he's from. Now he's just leading this haphazard colony in the desert. He's clever and a bit eccentric, and I'm sure his back story is absolutely intriguing. However, he's also rather intimidating. Not in the same way Ghost is. Poison is the kind where he shows off his skill and strength to make you back down. Ghost just carries an air of power around him.

I'm jerked out of my thoughts to hear some shuffling around and voices off in the distance. Frightened. I decide that it's time to go back inside. I climb back down the hatch and pull the rock over the top, sealing me in the relaxing, dimly lit corridors of the bunker. I made my way back to my own, and layed down on my mattress, staring through the dark at the dim silhouette of Ghost sleeping in the corner of the room. I didn't sleep, but it was comfortable and safe.

Author's Note

What would you call Ice's condition? I'm thinking insomnia, but I did a little research and can't be sure.