TANGO Heavy - Chapter 13

“We should check out the inside of the shack, maybe they left something behind,” says Tango. Pen gazes at the screen, looking into the windows of the building, at the tiny door. She realizes something.

“You can’t fit through the door,” says the girl.

“Yeah, you’ll have to check it out alone,” responds Tango rather emotionlessly.

“Uh, I’m not going outside,” she protests. “It’s freezing out there!”

“Yeah… you have a point. But that’s why we should look. A small one or two room building like that? There might be some old cold-weather gear stashed away.” He looks around the empty space. “Who knows how fast they had to leave.”

Pen crosses her arms. Her body hurt enough as is. She couldn’t even walk right anymore.

“Maybe there are even some rations left?” says the man. “Food,” he adds on.

“Food?” asks Pen, her ears sticking upward now at having heard the word. But then they drooped again, as she realized. “That’s dumb. Everything here would be too old to eat. There’d be nothing but dust.”

“Not necessarily…” replies Tango.

Pen grumbles, still not convinced to leave the warm safety of this new nest. It was perfect. Why should she go outside? Then again. Her stomach hurt. Her body hurt. She was tired. She needed rest. But what rest would there be to find in there? If his words were true, then some clothes would be nice. She hadn’t had real clothes in a long time. Just this. She looks down at herself. At the dress she made from an old thing that was more or less a sack, that was originally supposed to be her bed-linens. It was cold. It was filthy. She hated it. She had made it herself, it was hers. But she hated it nonetheless. It reminded her of them. It reminded her of the cold metal floor of the cage.

She didn’t think there was any food, despite her ravenous hunger, but if there was something that she could wear… Something new. Something that was hers. Hers alone. That might be worth the effort. Maybe then… maybe then these bad feelings would go away. Maybe there was a crystal? Maybe there were things she could have? She leans back. 

“Okay, I’ll look. But you have to stay right outside and you have to let me back in the moment I come out, okay?” she asks tentatively, still unsure if she is allowed.

“Deal,” says Tango. “It’s only two small rooms, it should be easy enough. You have a good eye, you’ll see what’s good and what isn’t.”

Pen shifts uncomfortably at the compliment, but takes it nonetheless, as she turns to open the hatch. Her fingers graze the handle for a moment. It was warm inside here. Safe. Soft. Did she really want to leave again? She could just sit in here where it was warm and die of hunger. That wouldn’t be so bad. At least it was warm… everything hurt. She felt the ring against her chest. A thing. A thing that was hers. She wanted more.

“No rest for the wicked,” she says to herself, spouting the mantra.

“People still say that?” asks Tango.

“What?”

“Nevermind,” says the man.

Pen shrugs and opens the hatch, sliding out of it and falling down to the cold stone floor. There was no wind here and no ice. But the stone itself was freezing cold and as her tattered, bare feet touched its icy surface, a deep sting shoots up through her body, rising through her bones. She yelps. It hurt. Her hand grabs on to the latch and for a moment her mind races with the frenzied thoughts of climbing back inside.

“The city,” says a man’s voice, ringing out from the inside of the hollow cabin. She looks back at it. “Think about the city,” says the man.

“The city,” she mouths. Understanding, she lets go and falls to the floor. Before the sting can stun her again, she moves with a jolt over the icy stones. It hurt. A fire stings on her bloody soles, as if she was walking over glass shards. She wonders what the temperature in the city is like, is it cold? Or is it warm? A sharp rock slices into one of the already open spots on her foot, she winces. What did their houses look like? She liked to think that they were big. Massive. Absolutely gigantic. Maybe the view from up on high atop them looked like the one from the top of the mountain. Yeah. She liked that idea.

A small, three high set of stairs led up to an empty doorway. The door, long since removed, lay now sideways against the nearby wall. It was filled with dents, as if the metal rectangle had been beaten in from the outside. The room was dark, but a stream of light shone in through the windows, as Tango stood outside. It was dark. It was cramped. Her heart struck in her chest with dire impulse. Her breathing became more rapid. She wonders what they ate in the city? Her stomach growls, almost bringing her to her knees. When was the last time she ate? She didn’t remember. They rarely got food. Not enough for most to survive. Only the smallest, the runts, made it off of that meager diet.

She bet it was something huge. Giant. Just giant pots of stews and soups and cakes every day. They were probably all hot. Everything was hot. Even the milk. Her eyes scan the darkness. The small room is filled with rectangular metal cabinets from the look of them. All lined up neatly in a row against the walls. Several of them were damaged, the inside of the room was in relative disarray, as if something strong had punched into the metal surfaces, into the concrete and left great dents and holes wherever it struck. She let out a breath that had been held for far too long, releasing the last warm vapors once more out of her thin body.

Pen grabs the first one and opens it. Nothing. The second one. Nothing. She slams it shut. The third one. Nothing. This went on until she had completed the entire first row. Her body burnt as if on fire, her head aches. All she can feel is a sensation of pressure in her mouth, as she notices that she is biting her own tongue. Pen goes to the other side. Did people share houses in the city? Or did everyone have their own? She bets everyone had their own. Why not? Surely they could just build one more every time a person was born, right? She wonders if they would build one for her when she gets there? She’d pay for it of course. That’s why she needed the crystals after all. She wasn’t naive. She knew how the world worked. Her eyes narrow as she opens the next one on the other side. Nothing.

The girl stood now before the last one that was dented inward and broken. Grabbing it, she pulled. It was stuck. The metal tightly jammed. She strained herself, grunting as she heaved. The door of the locker screeched and she pulled again. It swings open, flying wide. The top hinge was already broken off and now at this new movement, the door bends outward as it opens, crashing down to the side and bending off the lower hinge as well with a loud snap as it comes crashing down. A voice calls from outside.

“You okay?”

The light shifts as his giant body moves beyond the window and Pen stares at the little thing looking back towards her. The small skeleton, tucked into the bottom of the locker. She looks at it. It was a young person’s, close to her own size. Huddled together, down as low as it could go, hunkered for a warmth that it appeared to not have been able to keep. Pen steps towards it and looks.

“Hey?” asks the voice from behind her.

She turns around, and calls out with a shaking voice. “I’m fff-fine.”

Looking back, she hastily examines the small thing. The ancient body was wearing a set of clothes. They looked warm. Except for the legs, the pants were tattered. The metal of the indented locker had crushed them flat and pinned it here, inside. She reaches forward, the corpse didn’t need them anymore. Right? So she might as well… It was just like with the ring. It was no different. She needed it. Pen grabs the fabric of the shoulder and the pile of ancient bones crumbles together immediately, falling mostly into a heap of brittle bits and a fine, dry dust that was meant to be scattered in aeons past.

The jacket was thick, it would be warm. The material was odd and the color wasn’t her favorite, but that didn’t matter. She shook it out again, a fragment of an elbow flew out and fell to the ground, shattering. She spares one last glance at the heap of dust and broken bones, now piled at the foot of the locker, and shudders. Whoever this was must’ve gotten trapped inside when something hit the top of the locker. They must have been hiding when the door crushed their leg. How long had they been stuck in there? Alone, in the dark? In the cold? Trapped. Until they finally starved, pinned down and waiting for someone to save them. That never happened. Pen knew that. You had to save yourself or die. That was it. That was all there was.

Shaking out the jacket one last time, feeling nauseous she threw it over herself, ignoring the crumbly texture of some grainy bits against her skin. It was a bit too large, but that didn’t matter. She didn’t understand how it closed, but she didn’t want to stand here and find out. Her body was screaming at her to run outside and to hop back inside of Tango, but… she was already here. Just one more. Just one more room. That’s all that was left. That’s all she needed, right? Just one more. Maybe there was something there too. She winces, as she lifts her feet from the frozen stones.

The city. The city. Did everybody in the city know each other? Or were there simply so many people that nobody could keep track of anybody anymore? Pen silently hopes for the former, as she hobbles towards the second room. Repeat customers would be important for her shop.

Tenderly, she peeks through the door. Inside, is a single, rickety looking, four-legged metal table, with a bunch of flipped over, empty wooden crates beside it, that were coated in an incomprehensibly thick layer of dust and rubble. There was nothing else in here, save for the windows. She saw Tango outside, looking in towards her through the foggy windows, that oddly enough, appeared to be thicker at the bottom than at the top.

Hurrying now, she quickly stepped inside and looked around once more, closer, but still eager to leave. There had to be something. Just one thing. One thing. Just one more thing. A single thing catches her eye, glinting as the blueish light streams onto it. A small metal box with two handles on each side, covered in a pile of rocks that had fallen from the ceiling. Grabbing one of the handles, she yanks on it. It slides across the metal surface of the table with an unpleasant screeching sound that digs into her numb ears. Several of the rocks fall off to the ground. She pulls again and yanks it free. It had another handle on the other side. It wasn’t heavy. But it felt heavy for her. The icy, frozen metal burns the raw skin of her palms as she holds it. She won’t let go. She came for this. It hurts. It's hers. She’s not going to let go. Wincing, holding the rectangular box in both hands, she turns and jogs towards the door, only now noticing the bloody footprints that lead straight back towards herself.

What about her house? She wanted big windows, thinks Pen, as she enters the first room again. Motes of particulate floated through the air, as if suspended in the blueish light shining in from outside. She wanted big windows downstairs, so that people could see her wares. Pen rounds the corner and sprints down the steps, the box rattling in her hands. She wants to scream with each downward impact of her bandaged leg. Her bloodless face somehow grew paler with every further descent. Big windows upstairs too, so that she could look down on the busy streets. Tears ran from her face. It hurt. Tango was already turned around and knelt downward with the hatch open. Haphazardly, with the last of her strength, she tosses the box inside and clambers in after it.

Throwing herself in headfirst, like a rabbit digging down to escape a hawk, she presses herself inside the tiny, cramped space and listens as the hatch shuts behind her. It hurt. Everything hurts. The cold didn’t numb anything anymore. It stung. It stung deep into her tissues, her skin feels like it was on fire, as the warmth of the cabin comes to touch her.

“Good job,” says the voice around her.

Huddled together in a ball, the box jutting painfully into her side, Pen cries. It hurts.

------

Another story, another healthy interpersonal relationship. I'm thinking about getting into counseling, I think I could do well =)