Empty - Chapter 3
Sometimes there are moments of grace in one's life that can, simply by coming along at the right time, make all of the darkness and pain in one's heart simply vanish, scattered to the four winds.
He awoke the next morning to the sound of birdsong. A single ray of sunshine pierced the curtains and landed square in his eyes. Squinting, he sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, wondering why he felt so awful.
The memories of last night's events came rushing back and he whipped his head around in panic, eyes scanning the room for things that weren't there. But he was alone.
Alone.
He put his head in his paws, groaning. He could still smell the scent of his own piss rising from the tangle of clothes at the foot of the dresser, and suddenly he wanted to vomit.
He eased off the bed, clutching his stomach and fighting the foul-tasting bile rising in his throat. Stumbling out of the room and down the hall was easy enough. Getting through the living room, not so much. He was gagging by the time he reached the kitchen. He barely made it out the back door and into the yard before the remnants of last nights soup came up in a rush. He gagged and dry-heaved until he thought he was going to pass out.
The feeling left him by degrees, and he was eventually able to stand, but looking down at the mess before him almost set him off again. He turned and padded further into the yard, clenching his eyes shut and willing his nausea to pass.
Finally, it did, and he opened his eyes and turned his gaze to the sky. It was a pure and blameless blue, not a cloud in sight. The sun was warm on his fur. His spirits, rock bottom since yesterday, rose slightly in the warm glow. The morning dew on the long grass was already evaporating, mist swirling around his footpaws. Maybe today will be better, he thought.
He padded over to a bush and gave it a thorough watering, sighing in relief. He finished and shook off, running over his mental list of chores for the day.
Stocking up on food was number one, and he realized he would have to hunt down a new store. His usual place was running low on stock. He remembered an army surplus store on the far side of town. He would have to look into that.
First aid supplies too, thinking about the almost empty box in the kitchen cupboard. Army surplus might have that as well.
He thought about the pile of piss-smelling clothes in his room and added laundry to his list. He would have to pull out his wash tub and plenty of soap.
What else? He mused as he walked back to the house, avoiding the disgusting puddle by the door without looking at it.
Inside, he wandered around the house, taking inventory. He couldn't find anything else he would need to pick up. He didn't trust his stomach to keep any food down, so he decided to skip breakfast, but he grabbed a bottle of water from the dead refrigerator.
Sipping it, he made his way back to his room and pulled on a clean pair of jean and long sleeved shirt, then gingerly put his soiled clothes from last night into the hamper.
Reaching into the closet and pulling out an empty backpack, he slung it over his shoulders.
*~*
Standing out on the side walk, he paused to scent the air. Flowers in late bloom, wet grass, and the singular crisp smell of late fall. He was about to turn and begin walking down the street, when he spotted something in the far gutter.
It was the rifle he had thrown last night, laying were it had landed. He stared at it for a while, then turned and walked away, leaving the gun behind.
The day was truly beautiful. The bright sun poured down in golden waves, giving everything he saw a pleasantly nostalgic quality. He found himself smiling for the first time in a long while. Everything was wonderful.
It was mid-morning by the time he reached the surplus store. The door was locked, but a brick through the window solved that little problem. He picked his way carefully through the broken glass and into the shop. Racks and shelves of supplies filled the interior. Near the back he found shelves stocked full of military MRE's. The pack he had brought was too small for him to take very many, so he rejected it in favor of a larger one on a nearby rack. He stuffed it as full as he could with a good variety and closed it with difficulty, the buckles straining.
Looking around again, he located several huge medical packs filled with things he hoped he would never require. He took one anyway. Better safe than sorry.
He unlocked the shop door and stepped back out into the morning sun.
The block he was on was part of the shopping district, and had most of the stores he required for day-to-day living were located here. Rarely, he biked to the larger city twenty miles to the north and spent a few days scavenging there, but only when he had to. That place never failed to spook him with its utter silence and wide-spread wreckage, even before he began seeing and hearing things that weren't there.
He shuddered at the thought and began walking home with his loot. He strolled along, casually window-shopping and feeling better than he had in months. Every now and then he spotted something that he thought he could make use of and made a mental note of it, intending to come back for it later when he wasn't loaded down.
As he passed by a toy store, he glanced in the front window, and then paused. There, up front and sitting on the seat of a tricycle, was a plush raccoon.
It was about two feet tall, smoky gray with bold black stripes and mask. Chocolate brown glass eyes.
He must have walked by this toy store dozens of times over the past two years, and he couldn't remember seeing it there before.
Before he realized what he was doing, he had dropped the medical bag in the street and forced open the door. In a daze, he reached into the front display and plucked the stuffed toy from its perch. He stepped back and turned it over in his paws.
Was it just his imagination, or did those warm brown eyes seem somehow... aware? No, that was impossible. A trick of the light. Or loneliness.
Still...
A name, seemingly random, floated to the surface of his mind. He spoke it aloud in a hoarse and trembling whisper.
"R-Rachel..."
The plush seemed to smile up at him.
He hugged his new friend tightly to his chest and let the tears come.