Chapter Seven: All of The Memories

Wounds become worse before they get better.

It starts with the moment you are hurt. Then the pain that comes when adrenalin goes away. That is the hard part. And with time the wound begins to heal until the injured area is back to normal but for a scar.

I'm not sure about the truth of that process. However, the adrenalin had gone and walking brought tears to the edge of each eye. What had started as teeth-gritting pain changed into a throbbing burn that stretched the length of my calve, up into my knee, and down into my tendon.

There was no option but to walk through Burn Town. And as far as I knew, scavenging houses wouldn't lead us to medicine. I staked my bets on Gun Town being the only place that could help. Poppy and I pushed on, walking down the long, mottled concrete road toward the border.

We would pause now and then, listening for signs of life. After the first few tries, it became clear the area had no occupants. That led us to believe that either everyone had died or everyone had gone to the explosion sites. We were long past those areas now.

Poppy slowed down. I hobbled to a stop, gritting my teeth.

Ahead of us, the street opened up into a crater. It looked a lot like a meteor had struck the center of the intersection. The houses around the area were flattened and bits of concrete and wood littered the dirt.

"That’s a big swimming pool," Poppy said.

I hit her on the arm.

In truth, it looked a little too well placed. If a creature in this realm harnessed this much power, it could take hundreds if not thousands of lives by itself.

The concrete in the impact zone had turned a dark grey and black colour. At the bottom of the crater, the ground had a rainbow sheen to it, kind of like when roads are covered in oil.

"Whatever was swimming here it was big," I said.

"A God?" Poppy asked.

I shrugged and guided her around the crater and to the opposite side of the street. We continued on the road, the hole at our backs.

"Big round hole like that reminds me of golf," I said.

One of the few times our family had fun was at mini-golf. The eighteenth hole was a big orange crater with the title 'comet' slapped onto it. We could be a happy bunch when wine and privacy weren’t involved.

"Golf clubs hurt," Poppy said.

That's because they weren't meant for people. But I didn't continue on that tangent, instead, I pushed on, walking through the pain.

The houses changed from the flattened state back to the burned down properties with their foundations intact. Some of these houses still had their second stories as well. The concrete looked to be in good condition. And if there was ever a place to stay in Burn Town, this would be a better area than what we'd passed.

"Your leg," Poppy said.

A trickle of blood ran down from the wound across my ankle. "It's going to keep doing that until I can rest it."

Poppy changed course for a nearby house.

"We have to get to Gun Town," I said.

She shook her head. "I'm tired."

She had barely broken a sweat. On top of that, I wasn't sure if these bodies needed rest. At least, not in the sleeping sense.

It felt like the spectrum was pain and not-pain. Tiredness didn’t linger, neither did hunger or thirst like in the real world. I'd become so accustomed to it, that I'd barely noticed the feeling.

We walked into a two-story home, entering through the lounge. An old set of drawers and a few broken chairs had been left lying around.

Poppy led us into a hallway with a set of stairs. There was a cupboard near the stairs that still had its wooden sliding doors attached. The top half of the doors had been burned away.

I slumped down into the cupboard. Poppy sat on the bottom step.

"We can't stay long," I said.

"It's going to keep bleeding."

"That doesn't matter."

Poppy pulled a grey knife from her pocket and held it to her black t-shirt.

I reached forward. "Please, don't."

She cut along the side of her t-shirt and ripped a piece of fabric away. Then Poppy knelt over my leg and tied the fabric over the wound.

"You have to take the bullets out.”

It's funny that she mentioned that because I felt nothing in my leg. They had just caused a wound.

"I don't think there are any," I said.

Poppy frowned.

“I think they go away when the person dies.”

“This place is strange.”

It would be the same as any other weapon vanishing upon death. It also reduced my chances of infection. Trying to survive without a leg would have been hell.

Poppy propped my leg up on the stoop. I winced but then settled.

“Elevate it,” she said. “It will heal faster.”

I leaned back against the wall. While I didn’t tell her out loud, I appreciated Poppy's help. I preferred being the bigger sister. Even if that meant not taking help when I needed it. But here in the privacy of our own company, it wasn’t so bad. I just hoped that I could be as helpful to her. Poppy should be able to count on me, too.

"Tell me about your, Sister," I said. "I know it didn’t end well. But, you said that I’m like her."

Poppy twirled the knife in thought. "She used to read me stories sometimes until I fell asleep. Whenever I felt scared or hurt, I would go to her and she made me better. She was like my real Mum."

"She was important to you.”

Poppy nodded. "This one time, my Mum's boyfriend made Cher cry. I don't know what he did. But she wouldn't let me into her room that night. I went to the lounge and he was sleeping on the couch. That's when I realized that fighting for other people can make you braver."

"Did . . . did you do something to him?"

Poppy stopped twirling the knife. "I did."

Voices came from somewhere outside the house. Poppy jerked up. I gasped, glancing left and right. We had been too busy talking.

Poppy pressed a finger to her lips and helped me into the cupboard.

"Come in here," I whispered.

She shook her head, eyes filling with fear as if the idea of coming inside the cupboard terrified her. I waved her in. The voices grew louder. Poppy pushed the door shut. I watched through a crack as she ran up the stairs.

A figure entered the hallway. It held a gun in its grip.