A Disaster of a Morning

by docinsano

I tried to sleep that night over the droning of Mac’s voice, but it cut through everything. I tossed and turned. Mac played his game. Eventually I drifted of somewhere in between Mac explaining the whole disaster situation and him fumbling around in his bag for who-knows-what.

When I woke up I could sense something was wrong. Not with me, all my items were on my person and in my bag. My medicine pouch I nearly forgot about was secure around my neck. I’m almost betting it was this small item that had been keeping me out of trouble this whole time. It was like I could sense things others couldn’t. Either way, bad fortune hadn’t hit me yet, but soon enough, I was sure it would.

Mac was frantic. He dug through his bag.

“Where is it! Where did they go!?” he shouted, looking for a specific item. Or two. The sisters were gone.

I got up to see what all the ruckus was about. I rubbed my eyes awake and stretched.

“What’s the matter? What happened?” I asked.

“Those… Those BITCHES!” He stammered.

“Okay, calm down, I’m sure we can figure this out,” I said calmly in attempts to control the situation.

“They stole four bottles of painkillers and took most of my healing salve. Got like half a tin left only. Dammit,” Mac said. He was pissed.

I looked around the “apartment.” Gar was still passed out, bottle in hand. Now it wasn’t him I wanted to strangle. It was Mac this time. I thought he was a stupid idiot for having trusted these two, and now he paid the price. We all paid the price.

“Looks like they just packed up and left,” I commented.

“Stole my shit and got the hell out,” Mac added.

“Hey man, I’m sorry. It’s a tough break. But look where we are,” I waved my arm to the horizon, “everything has been destroyed. Even people’s values. It’s all about survival now. You can’t just keep helping people out,” I dragged on.

“I guess you’re right,” Mac said softly.

“I mean, we are an exception, we’re looking to build a team. They had a team already set up. Hell, they probably spotted us from miles. They had a pretty good operation set up there,” I rambled.

Mac sighed.

“Don’t worry, we’ll find another crumbled pharmacy somewhere. Then you can loot the hell outta it. Sound good?” I asked, trying to make old Mac feel better about the situation.

“I, I thought they actually liked me…” Mac dribbled out.

“Yeah, me too,” I said in a sarcastic tone, “Look. They knew you had something they wanted, so they took it. They just played you.” I said.

“Yeah, I guess,” Mac said glumly.

“You should be happy we aren’t all dead. I guess those chicks weren’t that bad,” I added.

“True. We are alive,” Mac said in a happier tone.

“Alright, I’ll wake up Gar. We should make some of that breakfast slop and head out,” I said.

I went over and slapped Gar on the shoulder. He grunted and slowly woke up. He looked annoyed, grunted, and laid back down.

“Alright, Gar,” I told him, “We’re makin’ some grub so get up or get none.”

He grunted again, putting his hand over his eyes. Mac rummaged through his bag to find ingredients for his slop.

“Shit! Goddammit!” He shouted. I knew immediately what had happened.

“Those bitches stole our food!” Mac exclaimed angrily.

But we were still alive, Mac. We might have been hungry, lonely, confused, or just plain lost, but we were alive. Besides, he was probably just frantic about losing his other stuff. I decided to take a look just to be sure this wasn’t the case.

“Let me take a look,” I said opening up the bag. There were weird cans and bottles of all sorts. Some with labels, some without labels. I spotted a can that looked like there was food in it. The can was stamped “C-1500-R.”

“Here,” I grabbed the can and showed it to Mac, “What’s this?”

“Oh thank God!” Mac said, thrilled to not have another thing stolen from his life.

“One-thousand five-hundred calories of slop never looked so sexy,” Mac said, caressing the can.

That was kind of odd, but hey, I was hungry so I didn’t care what Mac considered sexy.

The coals on the stove were still hot. Mac cracked open the can with a grin, slopped it into one of his pans (which he was lucky to still have), and put it on the stove. Mac just sat near the stove and smiled.

“What are you smilin’ at?” I asked.

“Oh nothing,” Mac said, “Things are just looking up.

The delicious smell of the slop filled the air as I watched Mac with his permagrin. I couldn’t help but crack a grin myself.