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So this is a really old story but it is the only one that survived the exterminatus of my Documents folder. So a few things that you will notice in here that I'd like to touch on, yes I did steal Mal from Firefly, it was just a random story written in one sitting and I was lazy with names. You will also notice there are a few proper nouns right off the bat that are not explained, and while I really hate that when it I see it, this was just a pilot for a story I was thinking of and I was just writing it as a middle section. Finally it is cheesy and I know that, but hey, I'm the kinda guy who can appreciate some good cheese every now and again so no worries there.
A dim light shone through the heavy air, dust and dirt floating about, glimmering particles danced about the make shift shelter. Moon light always seemed a little eerie to Mal, nothing good ever happened during the night, not since the breakout.
The rundown shelter barely had a structure. Seeing as it was just slabs of concrete, mounds of dirt, and beams of wood leaning together, the overall impression the structure left on a person is far below it’s former glory as a collapsed building. Mal trudged across the uneven flooring into an open room with a relatively tall ceiling, just tall enough to feel spacious. In several places the walls were replaced with mere sheets of cloth, not one was without excessive holes. Mal assumed that the walls were blown out in a past raid and that the sheets were all the supplies they had to repair with.
The whole scene was washed in a slight blue tint that gave the place a strange feel; the piercing silence wasn’t helping put Mal at ease. The grime and rubble that was strewn about the main room made movement without significant effort impossible. Everything was the same color grey, washed in the same blue tint; it was hard to tell what anything was or where to step. In the disorienting uniformity of the place, Mal spotted something out of place, movement. As he tried to identify what exactly it was that he saw, he prepared for the strangulation of his hope. What were the odds that it would turn out to be a survivor anyways? After the past year, it seemed unlikely that there were any more survivors at all, the Feds were brutally thorough. With a great deal of struggling Mal crossed the room and slid into the corner that had caught his eye. After a long stare Mal’s heart stopped beating for an instant. It was a girl, a young girl with long black hair, curled up in a ball, hiding in this forsaken place.
“Hello?” He said hesitantly after processing the situation. He had no idea how long she had been out here or whether or not she had become feral yet, succumb to the disease. There was no reply. “I’m here to help you, can you understand me?” He reaches out to touch her but stops himself with barely a centimeter between them. The image of a bloody, hungry, murderous little girl, stripped of inhibitions, flashed into his mind. He jumped back at the memory of his daughter’s friend. Maybe it was best to wait, if it was a ravenous monster it wouldn’t be able to withstand a fresh meal for long and if it wasn’t, than he’d let her sleep; God knows everyone in this new world could use some rest. So he waited.
Mal needed the break anyways, that is what he told himself everyday, but he really didn’t have the time to spare. If it weren’t for the Feds hunting parties still scavenging the kill zones and the feral people that weren’t ‘cleansed’ yet, he could lay on the scorched earth for as long as he wished. As it stands now though he’d be lucky if he didn’t die here, waiting for this girl was far past his better judgment. The hours blended together, the sound of a Vulture or two gave him a little scare but nothing was dropped off, no search parties landed. Maybe he was fine, but if those screeching engines weren’t the worst sound in the whole world than he didn’t know what was. After an hour he tried waking her up himself. If she was infected then he’d just do what he had done a hundred times before; though when it is a child it is different, it tears at one’s soul to kill a child, even if it comes to kill or be killed. Nothing seemed to get through, not noise, shaking, nothing worked. He couldn’t help but feel relieved slightly.
He slumped down in an opposing corner and waited with fear and hope dancing in his chest. Just as that hope began to fade, Mal heard a soft noise come from the corner. She was awake. He scrambled to his feet and looked at the young girl, her dirty hair clung to itself in a giant knot, face covered in grime and ash, her previously white top was blacker than her hair in some places, and her jeans were torn hundreds of times over and badly sewn up again. She turned her head toward Mal and her eyes widened. She took a breath to scream but nothing came out, she was paralyzed. “It’s okay.” He whispered as gently as he could, “I’m not here to hurt you. I want to take you somewhere safe.” She cocks her head as if she didn’t understand what he meant, Mal didn’t blame her, nowhere seemed safe to the poor souls in the kill zones. He knelt down and held one hand out, trying to gesture his good intentions, looking as small as possible. She flinched and jerked back, but after a long pause and silent coaxing she took a step forward, toward Mal, and stumbled. He caught her and lifted her back up to her feet. She was terribly light. Upon closer examination her face was bruised and covered with cuts and scars, the poor thing must’ve been living by her self for a few weeks now, and she seems barely over ten years old.
Mal heard her make a noise, she didn’t seem able to speak after being silent for so long. She struggled a bit more to vocalize what she was feeling. She managed to stand and as he let go she seemed to breathe easier. Mal felt that she did not believe what he was saying, he tried once more. “I’m not going to hurt you; I promise.” His voice was sincere but this time he saw that she was hesitant, tears started to form. She seemed to recognize the words, and what was going to follow after them. When the connection was made in her head that Mal was saying the same things as those before him had she stumbled away from him, fleeing to a small corner hidden by a burnt chest that was larger than the girl’s small form. He stood up and, after a short moment, he took a step towards her, but the he stopped abruptly; silence. He couldn't take her by force or even persistence. If anything was going to demonstrate to this child that he meant well it would have to be patience and a calm head.
“What’s your name?” Still nothing, she was listening though. “You seem like a little angel to me, how about Angel? Do you like that?” Mal said with hope that she would continue talking. The smile on his face betraying how he felt. She had poked her head out to look at him again, she had no expression. They both sat there for some time, the girl kept looking out from her hiding spot; she was obviously curious about the man sitting in the middle of the room. He hadn’t made any attempt to hurt her or look for food and water that she didn’t have. Impossible as it seemed to be he appeared to actually be a kind person. “I hope you can forgive me for stumbling in here,” Mal began again, “You see I have a family and I was just looking for food for them. Sometimes places like this have some left over. My family would really like to meet you.” More silence. “We have food you know, and we find shelter every night; not really a home, but we manage to keep ourselves healthy. Please come with me, I can’t bring myself to leave you here, but I have to go back soon.” At that the child finally stood up, Mal clearly wasn’t there to hurt her and if what he was saying was true - she had to try. She approached Mal slowly, but when she finally reached him with her hesitant pace, he felt the girl’s hand cling to his like a magnet; it was cold and rough. “Thank you, Angel?” Mal left a small question mark in the air as if to ask if she accepted the name. She nodded carefully and Mal smiled.
As the pair moved through the remnants of the shelter, pale light beams lit up the child’s face. He could see the cuts on her cheek and as they moved through the angled lights her wrists were illuminated long enough to show the hand marks left in the form of bruises. The way she clung to him was the only way he knew she was scared. The girl seemed very detached, head down, silent; she didn’t react to the shifting of the decrepit place. One would think that a young girl would jump at the sound of rocks suddenly tearing themselves from a wall and tumbling to the floor. Angel just kept walking at her own pace. Mal couldn’t believe what the world had come to.
It’s impressive that this girl made it so far alive. He needed to get her some provisions as soon as possible. It appeared as if she would topple over at any moment. Mal even asked to carry her but she shook her head in a manner so subtle that if Mal wasn’t a father he wouldn’t have caught it. He knew if he and his wife died this would be their daughter’s fate, to be abandoned in an old camp, scrounging for food and possibly encountering some scavengers looking to do a little more than scavenge. The thought made Mal sick to his stomach.
As they came to the threshold of the torn down building Angel stopped dead in her tracks. Mal looked at her and her face was stone, she glanced at him with the white of her eyes showing below her pupils and then turned her eyes down. She must not have known much more than the apparent safety of this place. Out in the streets and former neighborhoods scavengers prey on those families that survived, and the feral could easily find you. He slowly knelt down once more to match her height and look at her eyes head on; she dropped her head accordingly so that the whites of her eyes still showed beneath her pupils whenever her flighty gaze fell on him.
“Angel” Mal started, but quickly paused. How could he convince a child who has lived like she has that anything is safe anymore? “I know you don’t know me, but do you remember your mom or dad?” Nothing, “Well I’m a dad, and I have a beautiful little girl just like you. . . She’d love to play with you, and me and her mom would love you like our own. I know you have no way to tell if you can trust me, but please… please come. I can’t leave you here all alone… Please.” As he waited for a response the world stood still. The only noise was the wind and the seconds felt like hours, and in that suspended moment the tear that hit the ground could be easily be heard by those two strangers. Mal’s face stood firm as his heart broke, but his eyes couldn’t be disciplined. As he looked at her he could only imagine the things that she has gone through, and unwillingly imagined what such a cruel world could be like for Genie. A second tear fell, and this time hit the girl’s hand, quickly followed by a third. At this the girl glanced up with surprise, her big brown eyes were no longer full of fear and suspicion. Life came back to the angel’s face, if only barely, and her mouth quivered. She took a large breath and clenched Mal’s hand as she stepped over the threshold. Mal, filled with momentary joy and surprise, subconsciously went to kiss the girls cheek, as he would Genie’s. Angel jerked back as soon as Mal’s lips grazed her worn skin, reminding Mal of the condition of this girl, to whom he was a total stranger, but the effect couldn’t be taken back and the gesture sank in silently for Angel. Mal stood up and slowly started towards the east. Angel grabbed his hand and followed, but she once again became closed; this time trying to understand this strange man she had decided to blindly trust. They were mysteries to each other, but Angel is the only one who stood to lose anything.
A dim light shone through the heavy air, dust and dirt floating about, glimmering particles danced about the make shift shelter. Moon light always seemed a little eerie to Mal, nothing good ever happened during the night, not since the breakout.
The rundown shelter barely had a structure. Seeing as it was just slabs of concrete, mounds of dirt, and beams of wood leaning together, the overall impression the structure left on a person is far below it’s former glory as a collapsed building. Mal trudged across the uneven flooring into an open room with a relatively tall ceiling, just tall enough to feel spacious. In several places the walls were replaced with mere sheets of cloth, not one was without excessive holes. Mal assumed that the walls were blown out in a past raid and that the sheets were all the supplies they had to repair with.
The whole scene was washed in a slight blue tint that gave the place a strange feel; the piercing silence wasn’t helping put Mal at ease. The grime and rubble that was strewn about the main room made movement without significant effort impossible. Everything was the same color grey, washed in the same blue tint; it was hard to tell what anything was or where to step. In the disorienting uniformity of the place, Mal spotted something out of place, movement. As he tried to identify what exactly it was that he saw, he prepared for the strangulation of his hope. What were the odds that it would turn out to be a survivor anyways? After the past year, it seemed unlikely that there were any more survivors at all, the Feds were brutally thorough. With a great deal of struggling Mal crossed the room and slid into the corner that had caught his eye. After a long stare Mal’s heart stopped beating for an instant. It was a girl, a young girl with long black hair, curled up in a ball, hiding in this forsaken place.
“Hello?” He said hesitantly after processing the situation. He had no idea how long she had been out here or whether or not she had become feral yet, succumb to the disease. There was no reply. “I’m here to help you, can you understand me?” He reaches out to touch her but stops himself with barely a centimeter between them. The image of a bloody, hungry, murderous little girl, stripped of inhibitions, flashed into his mind. He jumped back at the memory of his daughter’s friend. Maybe it was best to wait, if it was a ravenous monster it wouldn’t be able to withstand a fresh meal for long and if it wasn’t, than he’d let her sleep; God knows everyone in this new world could use some rest. So he waited.
Mal needed the break anyways, that is what he told himself everyday, but he really didn’t have the time to spare. If it weren’t for the Feds hunting parties still scavenging the kill zones and the feral people that weren’t ‘cleansed’ yet, he could lay on the scorched earth for as long as he wished. As it stands now though he’d be lucky if he didn’t die here, waiting for this girl was far past his better judgment. The hours blended together, the sound of a Vulture or two gave him a little scare but nothing was dropped off, no search parties landed. Maybe he was fine, but if those screeching engines weren’t the worst sound in the whole world than he didn’t know what was. After an hour he tried waking her up himself. If she was infected then he’d just do what he had done a hundred times before; though when it is a child it is different, it tears at one’s soul to kill a child, even if it comes to kill or be killed. Nothing seemed to get through, not noise, shaking, nothing worked. He couldn’t help but feel relieved slightly.
He slumped down in an opposing corner and waited with fear and hope dancing in his chest. Just as that hope began to fade, Mal heard a soft noise come from the corner. She was awake. He scrambled to his feet and looked at the young girl, her dirty hair clung to itself in a giant knot, face covered in grime and ash, her previously white top was blacker than her hair in some places, and her jeans were torn hundreds of times over and badly sewn up again. She turned her head toward Mal and her eyes widened. She took a breath to scream but nothing came out, she was paralyzed. “It’s okay.” He whispered as gently as he could, “I’m not here to hurt you. I want to take you somewhere safe.” She cocks her head as if she didn’t understand what he meant, Mal didn’t blame her, nowhere seemed safe to the poor souls in the kill zones. He knelt down and held one hand out, trying to gesture his good intentions, looking as small as possible. She flinched and jerked back, but after a long pause and silent coaxing she took a step forward, toward Mal, and stumbled. He caught her and lifted her back up to her feet. She was terribly light. Upon closer examination her face was bruised and covered with cuts and scars, the poor thing must’ve been living by her self for a few weeks now, and she seems barely over ten years old.
Mal heard her make a noise, she didn’t seem able to speak after being silent for so long. She struggled a bit more to vocalize what she was feeling. She managed to stand and as he let go she seemed to breathe easier. Mal felt that she did not believe what he was saying, he tried once more. “I’m not going to hurt you; I promise.” His voice was sincere but this time he saw that she was hesitant, tears started to form. She seemed to recognize the words, and what was going to follow after them. When the connection was made in her head that Mal was saying the same things as those before him had she stumbled away from him, fleeing to a small corner hidden by a burnt chest that was larger than the girl’s small form. He stood up and, after a short moment, he took a step towards her, but the he stopped abruptly; silence. He couldn't take her by force or even persistence. If anything was going to demonstrate to this child that he meant well it would have to be patience and a calm head.
“What’s your name?” Still nothing, she was listening though. “You seem like a little angel to me, how about Angel? Do you like that?” Mal said with hope that she would continue talking. The smile on his face betraying how he felt. She had poked her head out to look at him again, she had no expression. They both sat there for some time, the girl kept looking out from her hiding spot; she was obviously curious about the man sitting in the middle of the room. He hadn’t made any attempt to hurt her or look for food and water that she didn’t have. Impossible as it seemed to be he appeared to actually be a kind person. “I hope you can forgive me for stumbling in here,” Mal began again, “You see I have a family and I was just looking for food for them. Sometimes places like this have some left over. My family would really like to meet you.” More silence. “We have food you know, and we find shelter every night; not really a home, but we manage to keep ourselves healthy. Please come with me, I can’t bring myself to leave you here, but I have to go back soon.” At that the child finally stood up, Mal clearly wasn’t there to hurt her and if what he was saying was true - she had to try. She approached Mal slowly, but when she finally reached him with her hesitant pace, he felt the girl’s hand cling to his like a magnet; it was cold and rough. “Thank you, Angel?” Mal left a small question mark in the air as if to ask if she accepted the name. She nodded carefully and Mal smiled.
As the pair moved through the remnants of the shelter, pale light beams lit up the child’s face. He could see the cuts on her cheek and as they moved through the angled lights her wrists were illuminated long enough to show the hand marks left in the form of bruises. The way she clung to him was the only way he knew she was scared. The girl seemed very detached, head down, silent; she didn’t react to the shifting of the decrepit place. One would think that a young girl would jump at the sound of rocks suddenly tearing themselves from a wall and tumbling to the floor. Angel just kept walking at her own pace. Mal couldn’t believe what the world had come to.
It’s impressive that this girl made it so far alive. He needed to get her some provisions as soon as possible. It appeared as if she would topple over at any moment. Mal even asked to carry her but she shook her head in a manner so subtle that if Mal wasn’t a father he wouldn’t have caught it. He knew if he and his wife died this would be their daughter’s fate, to be abandoned in an old camp, scrounging for food and possibly encountering some scavengers looking to do a little more than scavenge. The thought made Mal sick to his stomach.
As they came to the threshold of the torn down building Angel stopped dead in her tracks. Mal looked at her and her face was stone, she glanced at him with the white of her eyes showing below her pupils and then turned her eyes down. She must not have known much more than the apparent safety of this place. Out in the streets and former neighborhoods scavengers prey on those families that survived, and the feral could easily find you. He slowly knelt down once more to match her height and look at her eyes head on; she dropped her head accordingly so that the whites of her eyes still showed beneath her pupils whenever her flighty gaze fell on him.
“Angel” Mal started, but quickly paused. How could he convince a child who has lived like she has that anything is safe anymore? “I know you don’t know me, but do you remember your mom or dad?” Nothing, “Well I’m a dad, and I have a beautiful little girl just like you. . . She’d love to play with you, and me and her mom would love you like our own. I know you have no way to tell if you can trust me, but please… please come. I can’t leave you here all alone… Please.” As he waited for a response the world stood still. The only noise was the wind and the seconds felt like hours, and in that suspended moment the tear that hit the ground could be easily be heard by those two strangers. Mal’s face stood firm as his heart broke, but his eyes couldn’t be disciplined. As he looked at her he could only imagine the things that she has gone through, and unwillingly imagined what such a cruel world could be like for Genie. A second tear fell, and this time hit the girl’s hand, quickly followed by a third. At this the girl glanced up with surprise, her big brown eyes were no longer full of fear and suspicion. Life came back to the angel’s face, if only barely, and her mouth quivered. She took a large breath and clenched Mal’s hand as she stepped over the threshold. Mal, filled with momentary joy and surprise, subconsciously went to kiss the girls cheek, as he would Genie’s. Angel jerked back as soon as Mal’s lips grazed her worn skin, reminding Mal of the condition of this girl, to whom he was a total stranger, but the effect couldn’t be taken back and the gesture sank in silently for Angel. Mal stood up and slowly started towards the east. Angel grabbed his hand and followed, but she once again became closed; this time trying to understand this strange man she had decided to blindly trust. They were mysteries to each other, but Angel is the only one who stood to lose anything.
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