Fan Fiction ❯ Nuclear Winter ❯ A Cold Day in Hell ( Chapter 3 )

[ P - Pre-Teen ]

There is a soft shuffling sound, as if some debris had been shifted, which might have been lost in their words if someone didn't hiss, "I can't believe it...a Doll. Out here. And you...are you its Warder?"
Indigo whirls around, retrieving the Desert Eagle from his pocket as quickly as he had stowed it. "What? Who's there?" He peers around intently, tracing the room with his eyes and his weapon.
Trevelyan stiffens, her head snapping up at the alien voice as she follows Indigo's suit; a little belatedly, but nevertheless with the same instincts.
There is another shuffle, and a burly, humanoid silhouette moves into sight, leaning against a store's siding that had once been lined with marble, now a cracked and pitted concrete block. "No...no, you can't be a Warder," the stranger continues to rasp. "Who are you? What are you doing with a Doll? None should exist outside of the cities!"
"Dolls... Warders... What the hell are you babbling about?" Indigo growls, lights enhancing the sheen on his pistol as he keeps it trained on the figure. "Who are you, anyway... and what do you speak of?"
The man doesn't answer, pushing himself away from the wall though he doesn't step any further out of the shadows. An uneasy shift of his shoulders reveal that most of his bulk might be from layers of tattered coverings than anything else as ragged ends and pieces flutter and come to rest again. "Samsung," he eventually grunts. "It must have been Samsung. You were Samsung's, weren't you?"
Trevelyan's breath catches, the distinct click of a hammer being drawn back and cocked loud in the unnatural silence. "I don't know what you're talking about," she says shakily, her tone belying her own words. "Samsung's dead. By his own hand."
Indigo remains still, puzzled and wary. He keeps his gun trained on the man, steady and cold. Without a word, he watches, waiting for the next person to speak. Outside, the wind picks up... beating against the doors as the storm finally catches them, enveloping the city in sub-zero temperatures. Indigo growls. "Damn. We're going to be stuck here now."
The man turns to regard Indigo, eyes gleaming in a stray glance of light. "How did you come by the Doll? You're not from the cities. I can tell."
"Stop calling me that!" Trevelyan hisses, eyes straying between the stranger and Indigo.
Indigo lowers his pistol just a bit, though a dark gleam remains in his eyes. "We met down south... the last city until here. Fremont. We barely made it out... the ghouls and the mutants.. attacked just as I arrived. We holed up for a day and then slipped out under cover of darkness... I don't know who /you/ are, but I will say this, I trust her just about as much as I trust old .45 here... You, shit, you might be somethin' else... It's too cold a day in Hell to be making new friends."
The man laughs softly, or what might be assumed to be a laugh...the sound comes out more as a cackle, that soon ends in a phlegmy cough as he huddles against the wall. "You don't have to trust me. And if I didn't know the Dolls inside and out, I would call you a fool for trusting her too. You still might be one regardless, though." Leaning his head against the conrete, he turns again to regard Trevelyan. "I never thought to see one of you again. You know you're different, don't you? Tell him about the glasses, what you *really* see. Tell him about your childhood. What did Samsung teach you, Doll?"
Trevelyan's grip on her gun trembles, and her mouth opens and closes a few times before she whispers, "Shut up. You're lying. Samsung was just an old man, driven to delusions. It's a common enough thing, out in the Wilds."
His arm not wavering, the stone-cold stare of death still in his eyes, Indigo slowly takes a step back from both of them, though he keeps his aim on the man. "Dolls... Warders... tell me what you're talking about? What are they..? And why do you keep calling her one?"
"The cities...you've heard of the cities, haven't you?" the man husks, sliding a step closer. "Where there are no mutants...no bandits...where the higher technology still exists. How do you think they exist? What maintains them, keeps them from the madness out here?"
Indigo scoffs, grinning at the man. "What do you know? This place was as mighty as any of them, now look at it. What makes you think there's anything left? And /no/. I /don't/ know what maintains them."
A hand rises, pointing a scabbed and dirt encrusted finger toward Trevelyan, the joints swollen with arthritis. An old man's hand. "Her. Her kind. *They* maintain them, the Dolls, in the nets, behind the walls they've set. And how do I know? I lived in the cities. I was one of those who created the Dolls. As was Dr. Samsung."
Trevelyan shuffles back a step, her gun snapping up again when it had started straying at the man's movement. "You're lying. You're delusional. Who can believe something that outrageous?"
The loud report of a gun shatters the silence, stopping the argument. Indigo stands in the center of the lobby, smoking pistol held straight up. Bits of plaster fall down around him as the bullet casing rolls to a stop at his feet. "Both of you. Shut up. You, old man. You didn't answer my question. WHAT are the Dolls. And WHAT are the Warders?"
Trevelyan gasps, autaomatically ducking before throwing Indigo a dark scowl. Nevertheless, she stays quiet, turning away altogether to explore the rest of the room and the corridors nearby as distraction.
The man himeself seems to remain calm despite the report, though he withdraws a bit, retrieving his hand into the folds of his clothing. "The Dolls are artificially created beings. Initially part of a project to weed out mutations, they were developed alongside other projects uncovered and recreated from old archives. The minds of our ancestors really were not to be taken for granted, despite their stupidity in causing this disaster. The Dolls maintain the cities - but even more, they maintain the walls that keep them safe. The shields that filter what comes in and what goes out, artificial membranes. They can create summer within an iceberg. And the Warders...they are the ones who watch the Dolls. Who make sure they remain isolated, who guard them and keep them from contamination. They were created because the Dolls are failing."
Indigo looks intrigued- and bored, but nonetheless is curious. "Failing? How? And the Warders are creations too, or just people?"
The man grumbles, turning his head to follow Trevelyan's progress across the room. "One city has already been lost to catastrophic malfunctions. Others have faltered. The Dolls are simply failing in their duty...as if a virus has been introduced into the system. Nobody knows what is happening...Samsung claimed theories, and was banished for them, dangerous ideas that could upset what little we had left. Apparently, Samsung never gave up. Warders can be either - but more often than not they are chosen. *Their* kind," he makes a brief motion toward Trevelyan, "all look exactly alike."
Indigo rubs his chin a bit, thinking. "Exactly alike? Huh, tell you the truth, I've never seen anyone like her..." he blushes just a bit, a smile on his face as he says that. Shaking it off, he sighs. "What of Samsung's theories?"
"You would never have seen them because they are not allowed outside of the cities," the man says darkly, glancing over his shoulder as if afraid of surveillance. "Samsung believed something in their very make-up, in the raising of Dolls, was making them self-destruct, in a sense. They faltered where they never should have. Attacks come from unexpected quarters, ones that should not have been possible. He would have dismantled the entire operation. He would destroy what we have now on the hopes of his 'theories'." Scuffling back, he grumbles, half to himself, "But if he's done it, and she is an illegal Doll...he as a brilliant man, but I will have none of this. Have a care, Warder. I would not stay with her if she led me directly back to the cities and opened the walls for me."
Indigo tilts his head sideways, digesting every bit of information slowly. Sliding the pistol back into his pocket, he sighs. "Great... But... why do you call me Warder?"
There is a snort, though the man doesn't reply, instead shuffling off on an uneven course, muttering and shaking his head on occasion until the shadows swallow him once more.
Trevelyan, for her part, seems to either have not heard or ignored the entire conversation. Having figured out how to uncock the revolver without setting it off, it now hangs loosely in her left hand as she crouches by the shattered casing in one of the nearby stores, sifting through the debris around it with her other hand.
Indigo sighs, watching the man toddle off. He walks over to where Trev is crouched, resting a hand gently on her shoulder. "Did... anything he said... Did any make sense to you?"
Trevelyan stiffens beneath his hand, pausing in her motions before she forces herself to relax, continuing to search carefully amongst the pieces of glass, warped metal and crumbled rock. "The old man," she says in a flat tone, not looking toward him. "The one the revolver belonged to. His name was Samsung. I called him 'Father' for the majority of my life."
Indigo's hand twitches a bit, but he relaxes it, giving her shoulder a little squeeze. "So he was... are you really.. a Doll?" He scratches his head with his other hand, "I still don't understand it... "
Trevelyan finally sighs and gives up on the pretense of looking for anything useful, rocking back on her heels and resting her forehead on her bent knees, arms wrapped around them. "I don't know," she continues in the same dead tone. "I don't remember anything before I was twelve. Or that's what the old man said how old I was." A short pause, and then she hesitantly adds, "But the stranger was right about my eyes. He might be right about other things, though I don't swallow all that stuff about city walls and 'Dolls'. Sounds like a wish."
Indigo crouches down next to her, putting his arm around her shoulder. "A wish? More like a dream... or as he's saying it, a nightmare..." Giving her shoulder a little rub, he tries to look at her face. "I don't get what he means about your eyes.." his cheeks take on a pink hue, "I think they're pretty."
His last remark startles a glance from her, before Trevelyan flushes and looks away again guiltily. "Uhm...he doesn't mean physically. Well, yes, physically, they're different, or how my brain processes the information is different..." she stammers before taking a deep breath, trying to continue in a less flustered tone, "I can detect more than just the narrow band of electromagnetic wavelengths that normal people can 'see'. Or so the old man said." She slips off her glasses, looking down at them expressionlessly. "Samsung. He gave me these. He said it filtered out the parts that most people can't detect. I admit it sometimes helps to cut out the extra distraction if I'm trying to read details."
Indigo shrugs. "You seem like a normal person to me... you act normal... you look normal..." His arm still rests around her shoulders. "You feel normal. Why dwell on it...? "
Trevelyan shrugs with a short grimace. Slipping her glasses back on, she carefully straightens, managing a small, shaky smile in the process. "You're right. What does it matter? As long as...as I don't go in one of these mythical cities that no one can find anyway...as long nobody else believes the same crazy story...or recognizes me..." Her expression falters, and she casts him a frightened glance. "He said they all look exactly alike. We're clones, if he's telling the truth."
For the first time, Indigo's face loses its frozen look, eyes softening. He smiles warmly. "He did say you were different... maybe you're one of a kind, like he said. Either way, you've got your personality... and, I like that.. I feel like I know you know. Don't fall apart on me."
Trevelyan scowls at first, apparently finding something amiss with his words before she sighs, raking a hand through her hair. "Thanks. Though I'm afraid I feel I know even less of myself than I usually do. I suppose I should be grateful you're not intent on just ditching me."
Indigo shakes his head. "Why would I ditch you? You've been my companion for nearly a week now... we've been through too much together for me to up and leave you. I know better... Hell, I'm not all I seem either..." He sighs, risking a kiss on the cheek and a smile before he stands up, peering down the hallway.
Trevelyan blinks, stepping back out of reach hastily though it is more a reflexive gesture than anything, from the blank look on her face and the hand she raises slowly to her cheek. Swallowing, she takes a deep breath as she straightens, shaking herself back into awareness. "What...what do we do now?"
Indigo shrugs, peering into a few intact shop windows. "Find supplies? Food? Somewhere to sleep?" The storm can be heard, the double doors taking an intense beating from the wind and ice. "There's no way we can head out of here, that's for sure."
"Oh yeah," Trevelyan remarks wryly with a glance toward the doors, and then back toward the long, silent corridors stretching away from them. "And after the storm dies down?"
Indigo shrugs again, he's been shrugging so much lately, it's become an unconcious habit. "We figure out where to go from here. There's not much left, is there."
Trevelyan sighs softly, turning a way to head down the nearest hall. From the desultory swing of her head from side to side as she passes the broken storefronts, she doesn't see much hope in finding anything useful, but makes a half-hearted effort anyway. "No. I suppose not."
Indigo chuckles. "I wasn't meaning that, I meant out there..." he points to a framed map on the wall, depicting in a stylish way, the state and off to the side, the country. "...I doubt we'll find anything in here, though, unless this place had a security room..."
Trevelyan pauses and looks back toward him questioningly, then off to the side at what he indicates. "Where are you planning on going?" she asks warily, brows knitting as she considers the map.
Indigo stares at the map, lost in thought. He points his finger at a dot. "That's where we came from.. Fremont... we're here... took a few days.. but it was snowing and we were on foot. There looks to be a couple of towns farther north... one to the east... the west is all ocean... I never really had a plan. I had hoped to stay in Fremont a bit longer."
Trevelyan nods hesitantly as she moves closer to follow the line he traces. "Better than sticking around here. I don't have any plans myself, but if you figure out a destination...I'll follow."
Indigo turns back to the lobby, stepping over bodies on his way to the stairs. "I say we look for some food... hey, did that map have a security room on it?"
Trevelyan follows a few paces behind him, absently stuffing the revolver into a pocket. "As it so happens, it did not. But I would be willing to bet that it would be near the management offices, which *were* displayed. Keep going; it's near the check-in areas."
Indigo stops for a moment, watching the area ahead. "Hey.. um, I had a question... is.. Trevelyan your real name? It.. just seems a bit odd." He takes a few steps further, turning his head. "Um, you don't have to answer if you don't want to... "
Trevelyan shrugs indifferently, picking her way carefully over the remains of a collapsed wall. "Trevelyan was something the old man dubbed me with, a last name of sorts. He seemed to place some significance by it. He usually called me 'Kit', though. Short for Kittiana."
Indigo laughs a bit, nearly giggling. "That's a cute name... Kit." He slips through a small doorway, the lights dimming for a moment before a rumble of thunder shakes the foundation. "Lightning with snow.... " Sighing, he keeps moving.
Trevelyan wrinkles her nose lightly as she hurries the last few steps to catch up to him after the threatening rumble. "I'm not 'cute'," she protests with a grumble. "And what about you? Is 'Indigo' all you go by?"
Indigo chuckles again. "Well, /I/ think you're cute." Nodding, he answers her question. "Indigo is my first name... Jameson is my last name. It's been so long, I don't even remember my middle name, or if I had one... I just go by Indigo... or Indy, if you like."
Trevelyan's lips thin as she presses them together, casting his back a glare before sniffing, pushing a head to lead the way toward the long counter that had once acted as front desk to arriving guests, and the nondescript door that stands at one end of it. "Indy. Do you remember your parents? Why did they name you Indigo?"
Indigo stops, turning around to look at her. "No, I can't remember my parents... I was tossed around as a child, left to fend for myself... it's a hard world... especially for children. As for my name... well, if you really want to know, come closer. Look." He leans forward, parting his hair. The roots, slowly growing out, are a deep blue, almost purple. "Funny... it's my natural hair color.. it's been that way since I was born. Perhaps that's why I was tossed around..."
Trevelyan stops, brows rising sharply as she retraces her steps back to him and leans close, blinking as she notes the strange hue. "That's...amazing," she murmurs, tipping her glasses up and blinking again to readjust as she examines the roots again without benefit of the lenses. "A pity you found a need to cover it up," she says as she steps back again, eyes resting on him for a moment longer before she turns away uncomfortably, heading for the managerial offices again. "It would be striking."
Indigo sighs, nodding in agreement. "Well, look around us... or back when there were people around... You'd think I would last long flaunting that color? I've had it dyed as long as I remember... it's starting to wear out though... a good shower might wash it out completely. Come to think of it... I barely remember my childhood. Doubt there was much to remember though..." Running his fingers through his hair, he follows her once more.
Trevelyan takes another peek at him over her shoulder. "Well, if nothing else, I'm glad you managed to survive long enough for us to meet. Annoyances aside," she jokes lightly, a corner of her mouth twitching upwards before she turns her attention to the door, taking a hold of its handle, "I have to admit that you are also a comfort to have around. Hm...seems to be locked."
Indigo smiles at her words, looking at the door. "Looks like one of those heavy security doors..." He sighs, examining it closely. Under his breath, he mumbles to himself. "Guess its time for another of those dark secrets.." Adding volume, he steps closer. "Move aside..."
Trevelyan lifts a brow questioningly before she slowly does as he says, folding her arms across her chest in a skeptical attitude. "What are you planning on doing? You'll probably break your foot, trying to kick that down."
With a serious look on his face, Indigo looks at her. "A few moments ago... I recall telling you I'm not all I seem, either..." He shakes his head, standing about two feet from the door. "I guess I get to prove it now." Closing his eyes, he leans back a bit, elevating his left leg slightly. With a war cry and a sudden move, he kicks the door, metal grinding and the wood frame shattering. The door itself flies inward, bent as if a battering ram had hit it. He stands in the gap, dusting sawdust off of himself.
Trevelyan winces, eyes squeezing shut at the startling shriek of metal and wood warping and breaking, one arm half-raised in reflex. Only after the sounds have died does she gingerly open one eye, peeking past her elbow to stare incredulously at the scene. "What..." she whispers before clearing her throat, managing in a slightly louder voice, "What...what did you do?"
Indigo finishes dusting himself off, and steps into the office, making sure not to trip over the fallen door. "What did I do? I just kicked it... nothing special..." He smiles half-heartedly, not quite sure what to say.
Trevelyan's stare slowly transfers itself from the fallen door to her companion, and she swallows heavily, sliding a step closer but then stopping again. "What happened?" she asks softly, shock slowly giving way to something verging on fear, but not quite realized yet. "You're..."
Indigo shakes his head, catching the fear in her eyes. "I'm no mutant... I'm still human... mostly. The wastes are cruel... " He leans against the doorframe- or what's left of it, and rolls his left pantleg up a bit. At first, weathered skin is visible, but higher up, bits and pieces are missing, finally near the knee, most of it gives way to blackened metal. "That entire leg is like that... nearly lost it a year ago... same goes for one of my arms here... " He takes a step towards her, holding his right arm out and flexing it. The quiet hum of servos is heard.
Trevelyan's mouth works for a moment though no sound emerges as she stares first at his leg, and then his arm. Finally, shaking herself, she meets his eyes apologetically. "I-I'm sorry. It...just startled me for a moment." Releasing a breath, she absently tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. "How did it happen? Who...who helped you?"
Turning around to head back into the manager's office, he just waves his arm at her. "Nothing to apologize for... don't worry about it." His voice echoes around as he enters the room. "It was a long time back... helped defend a small town... Almost fought to the last, had critters all over me... Thought I was dead. Heh. Saw a bright light, afterwards, found out someone chucked a grenade. Don't remember who it was who helped, me, town had an underground facility. That's why it was so important. Shit, to them, these are still prototypes... The alloy itself seems effective against most anything... Left town soon after.. don't even remember where it was."
Trevelyan hesitates only a moment longer before her expression firms and she scrambles to catch up to him. "It seems they do pretty good work," she notes with a touch of gentle, if slightly forced humor. "It looks like I couldn't have done much better if you're to be my Warder."
Indigo stops, turning his head to look into her eyes. "I still don't understand... what exactly.. is a Warder.. and what is my job?"
Trevelyan shrugs uncertainly, caught offguard by the question. "I don't know. It's all up in that guy's head, remember? But if he calls 'em 'Warders', then my guess is that they ward." Wrinkling her nose, she adds in a mutter, "Though, one would like to think I'm a little more useful than something that sounds like it needs to be swaddled in cotton all the time."