Page 2 - Isla

Barry meets Isla

“Are you alive?” I asked cautiously tears streaming down my face in rivulets of temporary joy.

She looked up at me and froze then her frozen face turned into terror and she began to scream as if she had severed a limb.  I stopped.  I let her scream until she could scream until her voice was hoarse and would no longer allow any screaming to continue.

“Would you like a cigarette?” I offered holding out the pack.

“I don’t smoke.” She sobbed standing.  “Do you know what happened?”

‘No I don’t.”  I shook my head “One minute I was thinking how hot it was and the next minute I opened my eyes to find everyone…” I looked around 

“Well I did,” She began to sound angry “their skin dehydrated and began to flake off.  Even the hair went white and turned to dust.

The whole time she was telling me what was happening, I was examining her.  Boy was she a looker.  She had long brunette hair that cascaded along her shoulders and fiery green eyes that could cut.  Slightly shorter than my five foot ten inch frame dressed in probably would have been executive garb.  

It seem like a good time for introductions “I’m Barry Cleve.” I said offering my hand

“I’m Isla Montgomery” She replied accepting my hand and regaining some composure.

“Have you been to the last car?” I asked pointing

“No.” Isla shook her head “perhaps we should.”

As we crossed over to the last car I couldn’t help but begin to think that perhaps I missed some kind of two minute war.  Biological (logical?) or nuclear, why were we not infected?  I just couldn’t fathom any logical idea so I decided I would just keep that to myself.  I lit a cigarette.  I don’t smoke.  I didn’t die either.

“There is nothing of any value to us here Barry.” 

I snapped back to consciousness “Pardon.”

“Nothing.” 

“What now?” useless question.  I cleared a seat of its previous occupant and sat down.  Took a drag on the cigarette I wasn’t actually smoking and answered my question “Time to start heading to the front.”

“Couldn’t we just leave the train now and look for survivors elsewhere?”  Isla looked at me almost pleading.  She leaned against the doors.  Despair was the color of her aura.  

I butted out the cigarette and looked deep into her eyes and saw my own fear.