The Things We Bury - Part 2: No Big Apocalypse [Completed]

Chapter 4: Into the Great Wide Open (Part 4 of 7)

The squelching sound Amy's cheek made when she peeled it off of the window triggered a faint alarm-skin stuck to glass wasn't normal. There was something very wrong about that. But she didn't have time to worry about it too much. Other problems were trying to crowd their way to the center of her attention. Her head felt like it was full of cotton wool and someone had been beating on it with a shovel. A failed attempt to breathe revealed a blocked nose. And Amy felt a damp ooze running along her upper lip.

She wiped it off expecting to find blood on her fingertips, but discovered that the swampy green mucus was even more disturbing.

Through squinted eyes, she saw an archaic gas station. It looked like something out of a museum or an old movie. Beyond it, was an expanse of endless empty country. The light glaring off all that desolation seared her retinas like the flair of a flashbulb that never stopped.

"Are you awake?"

"I guess so." Amy was surprised by the rasp in her voice and coughed to clear her throat.

"You had me worried there for a while."

Sitting beside her with his hands on the wheel, R.J. looked weird. She couldn't quite figure out why. Her head wasn't working very well.

"I thought you might really be sick. I wasn't sure what I was going to do." He was trying to talk matter-of-factly but an alarming amount of concern was hidden beneath the surface.

What had been wrong with her? What was wrong with her?

The last thing she remembered was stepping outside. There had been too many sounds-too many smells. It was nauseating, like a carnival tilt-whirl which spun her in so many directions there was no equilibrium. She hadn't been able to tell if she was seeing or smelling something-hearing or touching it. It was all jumbled and then somehow it stopped. She must have fallen asleep or passed out.

Now she was in the middle of nowhere, in some-she looked out the back window to confirm her suspicions-cruddy, old pickup truck.

"Where are we?"

"Just passed Datil, New Mexico. Population fifty-four." R.J. flashed a smile at her as though she should be impressed by the statistic.

Amy went to rub her eyes but stopped when she remembered the snot on her hand. "How long have I been out?"

"About eight hours. Are you alright?"

"No. Need to blow my nose and the light's too bright."

"There are tissues in the bag. Water too." R.J. gestured to the knapsack on the floor between them and took off his sunglasses. "Here. They're not your style but we'll pick you up something better when we can."

Amy realized that it had been the wraparound glasses that made him look strange. That and the clothes. He was wearing a short sleeve plaid shirt and grungy jeans. She had never seen him look so casual. She had also never actually seen him in any light except under the artificial UV bulbs of The Music Box. His skin seemed more alive out here. It was tanned and healthy and his eyes didn't seem as sunken.

As she dug through the bag, she wondered what she might look like in this new reality.

If it's anything like I feel, I must look like hell, she thought.

Amy eventually managed to clear out her sinuses after several blows into a pile of gross tissues she let pile at her feet. With the pressure gone, the vise on her temples loosened and when the daylight was dampened by the dark glasses, the pain felt like it was almost gone.