Chapter 4 - Broken Skin

I caught up with Sam in a few moments and matched her pace, walking quietly beside her.  I felt naked without my equipment or weapons, but it was the cost of doing business with this town.  I cast a careful look at Sam, wondering, not for the first time, how she would react to my weapon they did not find.  Or the elaborate tattoo beyond my hand.  One nice thing about not making friends was that I didn't have to worry about probing questions beyond a certain point.

We crossed the main center of the town and Sam lead me through  twisting streets that narrowed to mere alley width before we came to our destination.  Sam's place was another hut squatting a little away from the buildings around it, it leaned heavily against the exterior wall.  I noticed a hodgepodge watchtower was built directly above her house, a ladder leading close to her house.  Above us, several guards patrolled the wall, weapons aimed outside the town.  Sam ignored them and opened her door for me.  I cautiously stepped inside the dark room.

She pushed me aside and made her way in the dark, a second later, a lantern flickered to life.  We stood in a open space with no walls save the exterior walls.  To one side, a bed sagged against the wall, a foot locker at the feet lay open.  Clothing lay strewn beside it and on the bed, as if vomited out of the locker.  Sam quickly gathered up the laundry and dumped it into the locker and slammed it closed, giving me time to scan the remaining area.

The bed sheets were carelessly thrown aside, but seemed clean for the wasteland.  One wall of the building was covered with an oven and a large shelf; its' every surface covered with various cans of food.  Set against the opposite corner of the bed, the table with the lantern wobbled under a pile of miscellaneous junk.  Plates, books, candles, and more threatened to topple from the cliff mounded on the table.  Beside it was another table, comparatively barren.  An assault rifle was torn apart, pieces divided in distinct piles.  Magazines for the rifle leaned against the wall, loaded down with ammunition.

As I took it in, Sam scurried forward, scooping the magazines and the larger pieces of the weapon and placed them in an upright cabinet beside it.  She locked it and placed the key in her pocket, giving me a level look, "You can sleep on my bed."  I walked over to the bed and looked down at it.  I picked up her underwear from the sheets and turned to her, holding them up.  She snatched it from my hand and tucked it into the footlocker, blushing furiously.  I smiled, though she couldn't see, "You want me, a ghoul, who has been out in the wasteland for months, to sleep in your bed?"  She was still blushing as she snapped back, "I'll burn the sheets afterward."  My smile vanished, "That's what I thought.  Anywhere I can get a bath?  As I said, I've been out in the wasteland and haven't been able to get clean in a long time.

She led me outside and around the edge of the house to the side we couldn't see when we approached.  Beside the house was a large tarp draped over a frame, blocking within from view.  She pulled aside the tarp and showed me a tub inside with a pipe running into the ground with a facet hanging just over the tub.  She turned to me, "Soap is there, spare clothes are there, I'll be outside."  She pointed and let the tarp close behind me.  I stepped forward and cranked the facet, water spewed out.  I tested it; it was cold- joy.  I shrugged out of my clothes, it is still better than I've had for months.  I spent long enough in the water to get clean, then was out quickly.

I shivered as I looked around, grabbed a towel and dried off.  I reached for the clothes, but froze, "Uhm, is this all you have?"  She called in from outside, "I don't usually leave clothes in their for guys, so just be happy I have any at all."  I grumbled as I dressed in the business suit she had folded beside the tub, the wrap went back around my face.  I stepped out into the cool night and Sam stared at me, a frown on her face, "Take the damn scarf off, we will have all of your clothes washed.  I didn't move, "I will not take off this scarf.  You don't want to see what is beneath it."  She stepped forward, weapon slung over her shoulder, and reached up to pull it off, "It can't be that bad."  I caught her hand, "It is."

She looked up at me, her eyes flashed in anger when I caught her hand, but at my words, her eyes softened and I thought I saw a look of pity there.  We stood looking at each other for a few moments before either of us moved.  I felt deep disgust rise inside of me, both at the pity she showed and at my own self-hatred.  She looked at my hand, still holding hers and wrapped her fingers around my wrist, pulling my hand down to inspect it.  I had forgotten I was holding her hand, so I just stared as she looked down at my ruined hand.  She spread my fingers with hers and looked back up after a moment, "How did this happen to you?"

Pain rose in my chest and gripped my throat, I struggled to simply breathe.  The memories of my lonely existence in the dark swept over me.  I jerked my hand back and snarled, "Radiation."  I turned from her and walked several paces away, working to control my breathing.  I reached up and touched my face beneath the wrap and could almost feel the insistent biting of the radiation like I was back in the shelter my father had built.  I shuddered as I felt the ragged, mottled flesh.  I choked down a whimper and gritted my teeth until my jaw hurt.  I focused on the pain until I shoved the memories into the back of my mind and locked them away again.

I stood still for several long minutes before I succeeded.  Sam had also remained silent and still.  When my breathing returned to normal, I heard her step up directly behind me.  I felt her hand on my shoulder, gently turning me; I faced her and looked down on her and spoke, my voice brittle and forced, "We better get some sleep."  She nodded wordlessly and guided me back inside.  I lay down on my back and saw her settle on a chair close to the kitchen area, watching over me.  I turned away from her and faced the wall, determined to remain silent until restless, nightmare filled sleep took me.

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Sam stared at his back as his breathing steadied and he fell asleep.  She thought she thought she heard him whimper a few times in his sleep, his muscles twitching spasmodically.  She figured nightmares raged him in his sleep.  She assumed their conversation outside the bath had something to do with that.  She shuddered, remembering the look in his eyes when she asked him.  His eyes were haunted, and the agony she witnessed had cut deep into him.  She tried to convince herself she had imagined what she saw.  Unfortunately, she could not; he had been in pain when she asked him, there was no way she could deny that.

She watched as he slipped onto his back and his chest rose and fell in his sleep, grunting occasionally.  She rose and paced to the bed, seating herself beside him.  She could see his eyelids fluttering violently and his wrapping twitched as his mouth moved beneath it.  She noticed something, then, there was dark markings on his face that the wrapping had slipped and exposed.  She bent low and gingerly tugged at the dirty fabric, revealing more.  Inky, intricate swirls and jagged spikes twisted around the left side of his face, visible despite the mangle flesh beneath.  She bent lower to examine them as she traced them down his chin and neck.  The elaborate designs flummoxed her, so she leaned back, frowning.

She started when she saw his brown eyes were open wide, and were glowering at her.  Her eyes opened wide in surprise and she rapidly rose and moved away as he sat up and adjusted the fabric to cover his face once again.  His voice slithered through the air, brimming with barely restrained fury, "You get enough of a look?"  His eyes blazed at her and she swallowed nervously.