Location: Apocalyptic world, with old weapons (swords) but no guns. There is technology though..just not much (no TV, phones, limited electricity)...there are monsters in the wild, starvation is an everyday problem, political unrest, streetfights, pub fights, etc.
Jordan and Rhema
Ever since they were little, Jordan and Rhema have stuck close to each other. They are best of friends, even though they are blood-siblings. They tease each other all the time, hang out, and do everything BFFs are supposed to do--but they also have the sibling connection as well. Jordan protects his younger sister, while she keeps him on his toes, and forces him to smile a little more.
They drew closer to each other because of the pain of losing their parents. He was 7, she was nearly 4.
And they would stay close....forever.
They drew closer to each other because of the pain of losing their parents. He was 7, she was nearly 4.
And they would stay close....forever.
Glimpses at Jordan and Rhema
Dark, forbidding, unapproachable... they were all good ways to describe the young man making his way down the street. Dressed in a black hoodie, with the hood pulled up to hide his face, and black jeans, with a broadsword slung across his back, he looked intimidating enough on his own. His body language repeated that warning. Head down, with his eyes fixed only on the street in front of him, hands jammed into his pockets, the line of his shoulders tense as though ready to run or fight at any moment, it all screamed that he wanted to be left alone. However, there were always people who read a warning as a challenge, or were foolish enough to poke at a wasp nest to see what would happen. One of those, a brawny young man, chose to step into Jordan's path at that moment.
“Hey, where do you think you're going?” he taunted. Jordan was silent, as he slowly lifted his head, examining the man blocking his path from the feet up, a slow, calculating glance, that took into account his possible strengths, weaknesses, and any visible or hidden weapons he might have on him. The other seemed to take his silence for cowardice, puffing up arrogantly and glancing back at his cronies, who stood in a snickering group at the side of the road.
“What do you want?” Jordan asked finally, his voice flat and disinterested. There was a faintly haughty tone to it, suggesting that this young man of few words didn't enjoy wasting them on the upstart challenger, but his rival didn't seem to pick up on the subtler tone.
“Where's your girl today?” he asked tauntingly. “You know, that hot little thing that's always following you around? Thought I'd like a piece of that for myself.”
The temperature around them seemed to drop several degrees, from the cold aura coming off the young man. Jordan's eyes narrowed, the animated grey darkening to a stormy black. His imperceptible expression changed ever so slightly, with a hint of feral animosity coming to the surface. When he spoke again, his tone was viciously controlled, sharp and icy.
“What. Did. You. Say?”
“I said she's a real hot chick, even if she is a little tease,” the other sneered, leaning into his face. “What are you gonna do about it, huh? How much for a night with-”
Jordan moved so fast he seemed to be merely a dark blur, displaying the fighting skills and ferocity that had made a name for him on the streets here, one that his opponent should have known better than to provoke. Almost too fast to see, he swept a leg against his opponent's, knocking the man off his feet, and then pounced, pinning him to the ground. A flick of his arm, and one of the small knives he carried concealed about him was in his hand, and pressed against the beaten opponent's throat before he even knew what was happening.
“Let me ask again. What did you say about my little sister?”
“Get off me, you punk! Do you know who you're-”
Jordan growled and pressed the knife against his throat a little harder, enough to draw a little blood. The man froze and went silent as it slowly trickled down his throat.
“Apologize,” Jordan snapped.
“Y-yeah, I'm sorry, it was just a joke!” When Jordan frowned down at him, he started babbling in a panic. “I didn't mean it!”
“Don't let me catch you talking that way again,” Jordan said coldly, his tone promising dire retribution in store if he did. He untangled himself from his beaten opponent and was back on his feet before the other even managed to get his feet under him. With an angry glance at Jordan, one he didn't even deign to acknowledge, he slunk off, his friends following sullenly behind him. Jordan ignored him, picking up the path he'd been tracing as though he'd never been interrupted, until a second voice hailed him.
“You're late, Jordan!” He looked up this time, to see a redheaded girl with two long braids and an infectious grin looking down at him mischievously, from where she was perched on top of a tall concrete wall. Always a social butterfly, two friends sat next to her, but she bid them a cheerful goodbye, and they waved back as she started to climb down.
“I got held up,” he said, as she made her way down towards him with her characteristic grace. With a few feet left to go, she jumped, landing lightly in front of him. “Some idiot saying stuff about you.”
“Hey, I can fight for my own honor, you know!” she said indignantly. He reached over to tousle her hair in a gesture of brotherly affection. Apparently she was in one of her cocky moods, so he teased her right back.
“I know. I did him a favor, you'd have kicked his *** down the street before he knew what was happening.”
“That's right!” Rhema smiled at her brother, hooking her arm though his, the better to pull him along enthusiastically. “Well, I guess I can forgive you just this once. Come on, I'm meeting some friends and I want to introduce you. Don't sigh like that!” she teased, as Jordan did just that. “I like people, even if you don't. Which means it's my job to liven you up!”
“Is it really?” he sighed in exasperation.
“Of course! Come on, mister introvert, we're going to have fun whether you like it or not.” Arm in arm, teasing and bantering in an easy back and forth style as they went, the pair made their way down the street.
~by Mirrorstone
“Hey, where do you think you're going?” he taunted. Jordan was silent, as he slowly lifted his head, examining the man blocking his path from the feet up, a slow, calculating glance, that took into account his possible strengths, weaknesses, and any visible or hidden weapons he might have on him. The other seemed to take his silence for cowardice, puffing up arrogantly and glancing back at his cronies, who stood in a snickering group at the side of the road.
“What do you want?” Jordan asked finally, his voice flat and disinterested. There was a faintly haughty tone to it, suggesting that this young man of few words didn't enjoy wasting them on the upstart challenger, but his rival didn't seem to pick up on the subtler tone.
“Where's your girl today?” he asked tauntingly. “You know, that hot little thing that's always following you around? Thought I'd like a piece of that for myself.”
The temperature around them seemed to drop several degrees, from the cold aura coming off the young man. Jordan's eyes narrowed, the animated grey darkening to a stormy black. His imperceptible expression changed ever so slightly, with a hint of feral animosity coming to the surface. When he spoke again, his tone was viciously controlled, sharp and icy.
“What. Did. You. Say?”
“I said she's a real hot chick, even if she is a little tease,” the other sneered, leaning into his face. “What are you gonna do about it, huh? How much for a night with-”
Jordan moved so fast he seemed to be merely a dark blur, displaying the fighting skills and ferocity that had made a name for him on the streets here, one that his opponent should have known better than to provoke. Almost too fast to see, he swept a leg against his opponent's, knocking the man off his feet, and then pounced, pinning him to the ground. A flick of his arm, and one of the small knives he carried concealed about him was in his hand, and pressed against the beaten opponent's throat before he even knew what was happening.
“Let me ask again. What did you say about my little sister?”
“Get off me, you punk! Do you know who you're-”
Jordan growled and pressed the knife against his throat a little harder, enough to draw a little blood. The man froze and went silent as it slowly trickled down his throat.
“Apologize,” Jordan snapped.
“Y-yeah, I'm sorry, it was just a joke!” When Jordan frowned down at him, he started babbling in a panic. “I didn't mean it!”
“Don't let me catch you talking that way again,” Jordan said coldly, his tone promising dire retribution in store if he did. He untangled himself from his beaten opponent and was back on his feet before the other even managed to get his feet under him. With an angry glance at Jordan, one he didn't even deign to acknowledge, he slunk off, his friends following sullenly behind him. Jordan ignored him, picking up the path he'd been tracing as though he'd never been interrupted, until a second voice hailed him.
“You're late, Jordan!” He looked up this time, to see a redheaded girl with two long braids and an infectious grin looking down at him mischievously, from where she was perched on top of a tall concrete wall. Always a social butterfly, two friends sat next to her, but she bid them a cheerful goodbye, and they waved back as she started to climb down.
“I got held up,” he said, as she made her way down towards him with her characteristic grace. With a few feet left to go, she jumped, landing lightly in front of him. “Some idiot saying stuff about you.”
“Hey, I can fight for my own honor, you know!” she said indignantly. He reached over to tousle her hair in a gesture of brotherly affection. Apparently she was in one of her cocky moods, so he teased her right back.
“I know. I did him a favor, you'd have kicked his *** down the street before he knew what was happening.”
“That's right!” Rhema smiled at her brother, hooking her arm though his, the better to pull him along enthusiastically. “Well, I guess I can forgive you just this once. Come on, I'm meeting some friends and I want to introduce you. Don't sigh like that!” she teased, as Jordan did just that. “I like people, even if you don't. Which means it's my job to liven you up!”
“Is it really?” he sighed in exasperation.
“Of course! Come on, mister introvert, we're going to have fun whether you like it or not.” Arm in arm, teasing and bantering in an easy back and forth style as they went, the pair made their way down the street.
~by Mirrorstone
Jordan came home with three rabbits, tied together with a bit of wire. It was the first meat he’d managed to get his hands on in months. They were a little mangy, but so was everything they'd be eating for the past couple years. There’d been something of a baby boom in the twisted creatures in the Wild, and every man, woman and child was seeing the devastating consequences. Jordan wasn’t going to complain though, at least he’d been able to afford gruel, and his neighbours usually let him barter for dried fruit to put in it.
“Rhema, I’m home,” Jordan said, unlocking the door to their studio apartment.
He flicked the deadbolt once he was in, sighing as he swiped the chain on as well. Rhema never remembered to set all the locks…
“Welcome home, bro!” Rhema shouted, jumping up from their camping stove and enveloping her brother in a hug.
Jordan returned it, patting her hair with a smile, before letting her go. He held up their dinner, and Rhema gasped.
“Oh my gosh, you got us rabbit? We’ll have to do something with the fur, this is amazing!” She gushed as she grabbed them from his hands.
Rhema fussed about the room, finding a good spot to put the rabbits aside, so Jordan could fix them later. Their apartment was frigidly cold, except when they stood besides the stove. Jordan sidled closer and slid to the floor, sprawled out gracefullly, sighing as he finally began to relax.
“How was your day?” Rhema asked, putting on some hot water for tea (in actuality, they had been boiling the same tea leaves for the past week...)
It had been bloody, and somewhat violent. The dangerous monsters and abominations that dwelt out there were vicious and bloodthirsty--they had lost a man or two, and had seen more than one person ripped to pieces. The rabbits were the highlights of the whole expedition. But he couldn't bring himself to tell her....
“Boring, as usual,” Jordan said, wisely deflecting the question back to her. “Why don’t you tell me about yours?”
Rhema giggled and launched into a complicated story about Simon-from-next-door and David-from-across-town, who both knew Odette-the-singer. Jordan closed his eyes and enjoyed the sound of her happy prattle, finally safe and home.
~by Bette (edited by Tears)
“Rhema, I’m home,” Jordan said, unlocking the door to their studio apartment.
He flicked the deadbolt once he was in, sighing as he swiped the chain on as well. Rhema never remembered to set all the locks…
“Welcome home, bro!” Rhema shouted, jumping up from their camping stove and enveloping her brother in a hug.
Jordan returned it, patting her hair with a smile, before letting her go. He held up their dinner, and Rhema gasped.
“Oh my gosh, you got us rabbit? We’ll have to do something with the fur, this is amazing!” She gushed as she grabbed them from his hands.
Rhema fussed about the room, finding a good spot to put the rabbits aside, so Jordan could fix them later. Their apartment was frigidly cold, except when they stood besides the stove. Jordan sidled closer and slid to the floor, sprawled out gracefullly, sighing as he finally began to relax.
“How was your day?” Rhema asked, putting on some hot water for tea (in actuality, they had been boiling the same tea leaves for the past week...)
It had been bloody, and somewhat violent. The dangerous monsters and abominations that dwelt out there were vicious and bloodthirsty--they had lost a man or two, and had seen more than one person ripped to pieces. The rabbits were the highlights of the whole expedition. But he couldn't bring himself to tell her....
“Boring, as usual,” Jordan said, wisely deflecting the question back to her. “Why don’t you tell me about yours?”
Rhema giggled and launched into a complicated story about Simon-from-next-door and David-from-across-town, who both knew Odette-the-singer. Jordan closed his eyes and enjoyed the sound of her happy prattle, finally safe and home.
~by Bette (edited by Tears)
He leaned up against a wall, knife in his hand, holding his side with the other. Jordan knew he should have seen it coming, but he didn't. He thought he saw Rhema running behind something, the short distraction almost costing him big time. The wound wasn't too bad, just a bad scratch was all, something that would heal just fine on its down. Getting hurt was to be expected, especially during a nasty fight. This was a battle with another gang for turf, food, and shelter. But like hell Jordan was going to let this rat-tag gang chase his off their hard earned ground. Where was the boss? Jordan couldn't find him in the fight, searching desperately for some sort of sign the boss was alright. Lewis could take care of himself, but the worry was still there. As second-in-command, it was Jordan's job to keep his boss safe during the worst of the fights. His grip tightened on his knife and he was about to move back out into the fight, before something grabbed his arm. He jumped back, ready to attack, only to freeze, Rhema!
"What are you doing here!?" he hissed, grabbed her arm and pulling her further into the alley. "Its dangerous!"
She glared at him, hands on her hips. Her shirt was a little torn at the base, and she was wearing comfortable pants, a short dagger at her belt, and fingerless gloves on. Her bag was at her side too, probably filled with her headphones and sketchpads.
"I'm here to make sure you don't get yourself killed! Let me look at the wound." She pointed at his still bleeding side. It hurt, but Jordan was not going to let his sister stay here in the middle of a fight.
"Go home." He turned away, feeling her grab the collar of his shirt and pull him back. "What's your problem?"
"Let me see the wound. It might be infected already."
"Its not."
"You don't know that. Besides, the others seem to be doing fine without you!" They glared at each other for a few more moments before Jordan bit his lip and lifted up his shirt, just enough for the wound to be seen. Rhema reached into her bag and took out some medicine. Clean gauze that was hard to come by, and a type of cream to place over the wound. She lathered the cream on, ignoring her brother's hiss of pain, before putting the gauze on, wrapping his side to keep it in place. Once she was done, she leaned forward on the balls of her feet and looked him in the eye.
"You better come home with nothing else, got it?" she said, before she ran off, leaving her brother to continue the fight.
A few hours later, as the sun was setting, Jordan finally got back home. He was covered in more wounds, but nothing too serious, just some scratches here and there and a bruise or two. There were some issues within the gang, a few injured members that didn't seem like they would make it, or angry members that had lost their medicine rights due to the more injured. Lewis was fine, injured, but fine. Jordan left him to handle the gang, while he went home to check on his sister. To his surprise, Rhema was there, sketching away in her book by lamp fire, a clean set of gauze and wipes and alcohol set out on a slab of old wood. Jordan sat down by it and began to treat his scratches, only covering the worst ones. They sat in silence for a while, until Jordan dragged his bag closer. It was pay-day today, and after such a hard fight, he got a bonus. Extra bread, some fresh butter, some cheese, and two bottles of water. His side was aching, protesting against any movement. It was deeper than he thought, and he was already bleeding through the gauze. If Rhema hadn't treated it when she had then...
"Here," Jordan said, distracting himself from his thoughts. He pushed a large piece of bread towards his sister, placing cheese and butter on the wrapping with it. He took the smaller half, lathering it with his share of the butter and cheese. He couldn't wait till next week. They would have meat as part of pay-day then, which was why defending their land here was so vital. It was the drop zone for the food trade. He bit into his food, sighing. It was a simple meal, but it stopped the bite of hunger. Rhema reached for the bread and tore off a smaller bit, eating it plain before nibbling on the cheese after. She stared at her sketchbook for a while before giving a sudden 'oh!' and stood up to go fetch her bag.
"I got us something today!" she took out a container of mixed fruit, filled with strawberries, apple slices, orange slices, and pear slices. Along with it, she pulled out two small containers of cold coffee that had gotten a little too hot. "I had some extra money so I went by the market place."
"Alone?" Jordan asked, getting a 'duh' look from his sister.
She took a bite of the strawberries and smiled. Jordan did the same, enjoying the taste of the fruit. Fruit wasn't rare, but it was expensive, especially apples and strawberries.
"How's your side?" she asked.
"Better." He let a small smile out before he focused back on his food. "How about you? You doing alright?"
"I hung out at the marketplace for most of the day, made a few new friends."
"Can you trust them?"
"Please," she said, rolling her eyes. "When I need a body guard I'll let you know." She smiled at him, happy to see his eyes flare up at the jab, before he settled back down. His side was really starting to bother him...
~by Dew
"What are you doing here!?" he hissed, grabbed her arm and pulling her further into the alley. "Its dangerous!"
She glared at him, hands on her hips. Her shirt was a little torn at the base, and she was wearing comfortable pants, a short dagger at her belt, and fingerless gloves on. Her bag was at her side too, probably filled with her headphones and sketchpads.
"I'm here to make sure you don't get yourself killed! Let me look at the wound." She pointed at his still bleeding side. It hurt, but Jordan was not going to let his sister stay here in the middle of a fight.
"Go home." He turned away, feeling her grab the collar of his shirt and pull him back. "What's your problem?"
"Let me see the wound. It might be infected already."
"Its not."
"You don't know that. Besides, the others seem to be doing fine without you!" They glared at each other for a few more moments before Jordan bit his lip and lifted up his shirt, just enough for the wound to be seen. Rhema reached into her bag and took out some medicine. Clean gauze that was hard to come by, and a type of cream to place over the wound. She lathered the cream on, ignoring her brother's hiss of pain, before putting the gauze on, wrapping his side to keep it in place. Once she was done, she leaned forward on the balls of her feet and looked him in the eye.
"You better come home with nothing else, got it?" she said, before she ran off, leaving her brother to continue the fight.
A few hours later, as the sun was setting, Jordan finally got back home. He was covered in more wounds, but nothing too serious, just some scratches here and there and a bruise or two. There were some issues within the gang, a few injured members that didn't seem like they would make it, or angry members that had lost their medicine rights due to the more injured. Lewis was fine, injured, but fine. Jordan left him to handle the gang, while he went home to check on his sister. To his surprise, Rhema was there, sketching away in her book by lamp fire, a clean set of gauze and wipes and alcohol set out on a slab of old wood. Jordan sat down by it and began to treat his scratches, only covering the worst ones. They sat in silence for a while, until Jordan dragged his bag closer. It was pay-day today, and after such a hard fight, he got a bonus. Extra bread, some fresh butter, some cheese, and two bottles of water. His side was aching, protesting against any movement. It was deeper than he thought, and he was already bleeding through the gauze. If Rhema hadn't treated it when she had then...
"Here," Jordan said, distracting himself from his thoughts. He pushed a large piece of bread towards his sister, placing cheese and butter on the wrapping with it. He took the smaller half, lathering it with his share of the butter and cheese. He couldn't wait till next week. They would have meat as part of pay-day then, which was why defending their land here was so vital. It was the drop zone for the food trade. He bit into his food, sighing. It was a simple meal, but it stopped the bite of hunger. Rhema reached for the bread and tore off a smaller bit, eating it plain before nibbling on the cheese after. She stared at her sketchbook for a while before giving a sudden 'oh!' and stood up to go fetch her bag.
"I got us something today!" she took out a container of mixed fruit, filled with strawberries, apple slices, orange slices, and pear slices. Along with it, she pulled out two small containers of cold coffee that had gotten a little too hot. "I had some extra money so I went by the market place."
"Alone?" Jordan asked, getting a 'duh' look from his sister.
She took a bite of the strawberries and smiled. Jordan did the same, enjoying the taste of the fruit. Fruit wasn't rare, but it was expensive, especially apples and strawberries.
"How's your side?" she asked.
"Better." He let a small smile out before he focused back on his food. "How about you? You doing alright?"
"I hung out at the marketplace for most of the day, made a few new friends."
"Can you trust them?"
"Please," she said, rolling her eyes. "When I need a body guard I'll let you know." She smiled at him, happy to see his eyes flare up at the jab, before he settled back down. His side was really starting to bother him...
~by Dew
The sign, like so many other remnants of the passing world, had been reclaimed by nature. Still, the words it once proudly displayed were still eligible—“Summerfield Mall”.
“Why are so many of the windows busted in?” Rhema asked.
Jordan approached the mall doors and looked them up and down. The glass panes had been shattered, but the doorframe was intact. “When things first started going…downhill, malls were the first places that were ransacked,” he said, crawling through the busted glass and opening the frame for her from the inside. “There won’t be much to see. Everything’s probably already been taken.” Rhema bounded in after him and curled her arm around his, pulling him further into the mall with her.
“’Probably’ doesn’t mean ‘definitely’, right? There’s still a possibility we’ll find something neat!” she chirped. Jordan shrugged.
“Just…don’t get your hopes up, alright?” he said, but Rhema had already run too far ahead to hear him.
The mall was gorgeous in a way that it couldn’t have been before. Vines hung down from the skylights up above, and natural light trickled to the cracked tiles on the floor. Bushes and flowers had begun to grow wherever they could, adding an eerie sense of life to the dead mall. Rhema jumped over a gnarled tree root and looked around. There were plenty of shops to see but, just as Jordan had said, most of them looked empty. Then she spotted something on the second floor. “Jordan! Look!” she called.
He stood at the base of a raspberry bush, picking the ripe ones and putting them in a grocery bag from one of the stores. “Hm? What did you find?”
“I’ll race you to the second floor!” she said, and then dashed off for the out-of-service escalator.
“No fair! You got a head start!” Jordan yelled back. He hardly noticed how childish he sounded. He was older and stronger than her, though, so he caught up near the end of the race and pulled ahead for a close win.
Rhema giggled. “I don’t think you ran that fast when we were chased by thugs last week!” Jordan wheezed out a laugh, still panting with his hands on his knees. His blood was pumping, and he felt happier and more relaxed than he could remember being in a while. He ruffled Rhema’s hair and pulled her into a sudden hug. “Whoa! What’s that for?”
“Ah, nothing,” he said, pulling back and ruffling her hair again. “I’m just glad you’re here, is all. Don’t think I would have made it this far without you.”
She pushed his hands away and laughed. “Bah, stop! Ugh, you’re such a sap, Jordan.”
“Hey, I’m not the one who cried while listening to Beethoven.”
“It was an emotional song,” she whined, pushing him. “Now come on! I saw a music store over here.” The doors were boarded over but, with Jordan’s help, Rhema pried the planks off and stepped inside. He handed her a flashlight and turned on his own. When she looked around, now with the light, she saw that this place had really been left untouched for quite some time. She ran her finger along the front desk’s countertop and it came back up black with dust.
Suddenly, the flashlight caught on something shiny. “Jordan, I think I found something!” He turned to watch her jump over toppled chairs and racks, then lift up what she had found—a case filled with CDs. “There’s so many!” she said breathlessly, an enormous grin stretched across her face.
“Well, would you look at that,” Jordan said, walking carefully up to her to see the CDs from up-close. “You got some good ones, huh?”
“Yeah!” she replied, looking up at him. “Thank you so much for showing me this place, Jordan! You’re the best brother ever.”
“Yeah, well,” he coughed and turned away to hide his blush. “Let’s get back before anybody notices we were gone.” She nodded and slipped the CDs into his bag. They walked out of the mall, hand-in-hand, smiling more brightly than anything else in the post-war wasteland.
~by ResplendentChaos
“Why are so many of the windows busted in?” Rhema asked.
Jordan approached the mall doors and looked them up and down. The glass panes had been shattered, but the doorframe was intact. “When things first started going…downhill, malls were the first places that were ransacked,” he said, crawling through the busted glass and opening the frame for her from the inside. “There won’t be much to see. Everything’s probably already been taken.” Rhema bounded in after him and curled her arm around his, pulling him further into the mall with her.
“’Probably’ doesn’t mean ‘definitely’, right? There’s still a possibility we’ll find something neat!” she chirped. Jordan shrugged.
“Just…don’t get your hopes up, alright?” he said, but Rhema had already run too far ahead to hear him.
The mall was gorgeous in a way that it couldn’t have been before. Vines hung down from the skylights up above, and natural light trickled to the cracked tiles on the floor. Bushes and flowers had begun to grow wherever they could, adding an eerie sense of life to the dead mall. Rhema jumped over a gnarled tree root and looked around. There were plenty of shops to see but, just as Jordan had said, most of them looked empty. Then she spotted something on the second floor. “Jordan! Look!” she called.
He stood at the base of a raspberry bush, picking the ripe ones and putting them in a grocery bag from one of the stores. “Hm? What did you find?”
“I’ll race you to the second floor!” she said, and then dashed off for the out-of-service escalator.
“No fair! You got a head start!” Jordan yelled back. He hardly noticed how childish he sounded. He was older and stronger than her, though, so he caught up near the end of the race and pulled ahead for a close win.
Rhema giggled. “I don’t think you ran that fast when we were chased by thugs last week!” Jordan wheezed out a laugh, still panting with his hands on his knees. His blood was pumping, and he felt happier and more relaxed than he could remember being in a while. He ruffled Rhema’s hair and pulled her into a sudden hug. “Whoa! What’s that for?”
“Ah, nothing,” he said, pulling back and ruffling her hair again. “I’m just glad you’re here, is all. Don’t think I would have made it this far without you.”
She pushed his hands away and laughed. “Bah, stop! Ugh, you’re such a sap, Jordan.”
“Hey, I’m not the one who cried while listening to Beethoven.”
“It was an emotional song,” she whined, pushing him. “Now come on! I saw a music store over here.” The doors were boarded over but, with Jordan’s help, Rhema pried the planks off and stepped inside. He handed her a flashlight and turned on his own. When she looked around, now with the light, she saw that this place had really been left untouched for quite some time. She ran her finger along the front desk’s countertop and it came back up black with dust.
Suddenly, the flashlight caught on something shiny. “Jordan, I think I found something!” He turned to watch her jump over toppled chairs and racks, then lift up what she had found—a case filled with CDs. “There’s so many!” she said breathlessly, an enormous grin stretched across her face.
“Well, would you look at that,” Jordan said, walking carefully up to her to see the CDs from up-close. “You got some good ones, huh?”
“Yeah!” she replied, looking up at him. “Thank you so much for showing me this place, Jordan! You’re the best brother ever.”
“Yeah, well,” he coughed and turned away to hide his blush. “Let’s get back before anybody notices we were gone.” She nodded and slipped the CDs into his bag. They walked out of the mall, hand-in-hand, smiling more brightly than anything else in the post-war wasteland.
~by ResplendentChaos