Beneath the Shadowlanders

Chapter Five: Gabriel

I bolt the heavy blast door shut, checking for any gaps in the seal, as I always do. I never find any, but one can't be too cautious. The smallest crack could be the end of me and Gin. Behind me, she switches on the handful of lamps we've managed to loot from the nearby apartments over the last three years and flops onto a pile of pillows with a book in her hand – a heavily worn paper and plastic covered thing taken from the ruins of the library. This one is something about pirates.

I cross over to the small shelf of canned goods we've managed to gather. "You want soup or vegetables?"

She doesn't respond.

"Hey! Soup or veggies?" I repeat, nudging her foot with my toes.

She starts slightly. "Huh? Oh, uh, soup I guess." She turns back to her book, unbothered.

I pull the can off the shelf and pour the contents into two small ceramic bowls. I place one on the floor next to Genevieve. She nods appreciatively, but doesn't look up. I take my own bowl into my corner and settle down with a sketch pad. It's one of the few things I had before the rebellion that made it through with us.

Our parents were not so lucky.

I take a bite of the cold soup. It's some kind of vegetable medley with an unidentifiable meat in it. It's slimy and thick; the first few times I was forced to eat it I gagged, but I've since decided that it tastes better than an empty stomach. That was a lesson that didn't take very long to learn. I finish it quickly, trying to slurp it down without thinking too hard about it, and leave the bowl on the floor next to me while I draw.

I open up to a sketch I've been working on for a few days; it's a sketch of our old apartment. I plan to give it to Gin for her birthday. I pull out one of my precious few drawing pencils, saved from the ruins of our former home. I have four left. After that, I'll either have to hope I can find more, or give up the only thing that really makes life tolerable anymore.

Across the room, Gin giggles at something in her book. She's managed to acquire an impressive library, under the circumstances. Two full bookcases, made up of literature looted from apartments and houses and the defunct library. Every time she finds something new, it's like Christmas for her.

I wonder sometimes what will happen when the world runs out of books. When she's read everything we can possibly loot, and all the houses are empty of new literature. Then what will she do? When the world runs out of the only thing keeping her sane?

I choose not to think about this, focusing instead on my drawing. I gently scratch across the page, the graphite in my pencil melding with the existing lines. Slowly but surely, things begin to take shape. I'm focusing right now on a painting that used to hang above the desk in the corner of the living room. Emulating the art style of the painting is difficult with a pencil, so I'm taking my time, carefully guiding each stroke. When I misplace a line and am forced to erase nearly a fifth of the painting, I decide to take a break for the night. It's getting late already, anyway.

Genevieve is still absorbed in her pirate book, eyes racing across the pages as she falls deeper and deeper into the trance that allows her to escape this world, if only for a little while. I find myself envying her escapism.

I yawn and dim the lamp on my side of the room, snuggling down into a pile of pillows. "Gin? I think I'm going to sleep."

She glances up. "Huh? Oh. Alright. I will too, as soon as I finish this chapter."

I know it's a lie. She knows I know. I let it slide, just this once. "Alright. Don't stay up too late. Goodnight."

"Night, Gabe. I love you."

"I love you too," I whisper as I curl up and drift into a deep sleep.