The Last Realm of Rust and Dust

Chapter 2

Evie squatted in front of Anderson once again, expertly checking his breath. Relieved to find it hadn't completely faded, she proceeded to staunch the bleeding, cleanse his wounds, and apply ointment.

"The weather today is as hot as ever. Come nightfall, your body won't cope well with the temperature drop," Evie mentioned as she removed the straw hat from her head and delicately placed it over Andersons unconscious face. "So, you need to wake up quickly."

"Wake up and come with me."

"I will save you."

After speaking, Evie didnt linger by Andersons side but shouldered her backpack, donned her gloves, and with hoe in hand, continued her scavenging.

The morning passed swiftly, and by noon the sun's blaze was relentless, the scorching rays a torment on exposed skin.

Anderson awoke with the heat nuzzling his consciousness. He struggled to open his eyes, but rather than the blinding sunlight, he was met with a gentle dimness. With effort, he lifted a hand and removed the straw hat from his face, squinting against the harsh sun rays that urged him to close his eyes once more.

But he didn't.

Whatever lucidity he had left forced his eyes wide open to survey his surroundings.

Anderson's gaze drifted over the wasted terrain littered with rubbish, eventually landing on a slender figure. The figure, burdened with a large backpack, periodically stooped to toss scrap parts into her load, engaged in a diligent, almost reverent cleaning of the earth.

Unconsciously, he was transfixed.

Feeling his gaze, Evie walked over and crouched in front of him. She noted the tear at the corner of his eye.

Evie didn't realize these were merely reflexive tears due to the sting in his eyes; she thought he was crying. She placed her soft hand on his forehead—not cool, yet to Anderson, feverish as he was, it felt like a refreshing spring.

"Not to worry, I'll save you," Evie's voice was soothing, as if it could calm any storm.

Anderson squeezed his eyes shut, unable to bring Evie's image into clearer focus. The heat of the day, coupled with his blood loss, left him in a delirious state. He attempted to speak, but his throat felt scorched and achingly dry.

Twisting open the cap, Evie poured some crisp, refreshing water into the bottle cap and brought it to Anderson's lips. Nearly unconscious, he instinctively drank the precious water, a rarity in the wasteland.

Anderson drained all the water remaining in her cup.

"Let's head home early today," Evie spoke softly, glancing at the sky. "I suspect well need a considerable amount of time on the road."

Anderson, half-squinting, continued to stare unblinkingly at Evie.

She tightened the cap back onto the water bottle, shouldered her backpack once again, and reached out to help Anderson rise.

Anderson's remaining wits were shrouded in haze, all actions now governed by his body's instincts. An ingrained drive declared that he wanted to live, despite his distrust for the person before him.

So, as Evie offered her assistance, he rose from the very pit that was meant to be his grave.

Evie, burdened with both her backpack and the need to support Anderson, struggled under the weight that bore heavily on her slight shoulders. Despite her difficulties, she made steady progress, for Anderson, docile in his weakened state, moved cooperatively.

The sun hung high, casting a glow like burning embers, shining on the two figures slowly drifting into the distance. Their elongated shadows intertwined on the ground, making it seem, from afar, as if there was only one.

Evie resided in a narrow valley, an obscure sanctuary known by few. She and Anderson navigated through the crisscrossing paths, leaving rugged boulders behind as the vista opened up before them.

Night had fallen, bringing with it a breeze from afar that offered an evening's cool respite. Evie, guiding Anderson with caution, carefully avoided the precious patches of green that dotted the scorched soil. They progressed forward, traversing meadows, flowerbeds, fields, and herb gardens, until at last, her cottage came into view.

Initially, the cottage was indeed just a single-room abode, but as Evie discovered she could occasionally find injured people in the wasteland beyond, she couldn't bear to leave them exposed to such desolation. Instead, she brought them back with her.

The first person she saved asked if she needed help upon recovery, and she had him assist in constructing a second room. Since then, those she rescued stayed in the cottage until they healed.

Now, this place belonged to Anderson.

Evie laid Anderson on the bamboo mat of the bed and, after dealing with the refuse in her backpack at the back of the cottage, attended to his injuries. She expertly cleaned his wounds, applied medicine, and dressed them. Throughout the process, Anderson remained eerily silent, only murmuring faintly even when her hand inadvertently pressed too hard.

From her pocket, Evie fetched a little bottle, tipped out a pill, and held it to Anderson's lips, murmuring, "Open wide."

She pressed the pill against his lips, but Anderson's jaws were clenched tightly shut. It took a while before she said, "I won't harm you. Swallow it."

The day had been exceedingly long, with Evie's tender and patient voice continually echoing in Andersons ears. She had snatched him from the brink of death, and his hazy consciousness had grown dependent on her, leading him to docility in this moment.

Finally, his jaw relaxed, and Evie slipped the pill into his mouth. Her eyes softened, and with her cool hand, she checked his forehead again, now with a comforting praise: "There's a good man."

The lengthy night passed swiftly, with Evie changing the cooling compress on Anderson's forehead time and again, until at last, the fever subsided and she, consumed by fatigue, draped herself over the edge of the bed and succumbed to sleep.

Come morning, Anderson was the first to awake, and almost immediately upon opening his eyes, he disturbed Evie from her brief slumber.

Evie hadnt been sleeping deeply, for lying propped up had been uncomfortable, but being roused by Anderson left her groggy. Quickly coming to her senses, she was surprised to see Anderson struggling to sit up.

"Don't move just yet," she advised with her customary slowness, her voice as soothing as a mild spring breeze.

Anderson's memory lingered on the previous day when Evie had swung a shovel at him without a word. He thought he had already shown her his killing intent, and they should be at odds, yet her current demeanor suggested she hadn't taken it to heart—in fact, she had saved him! What could she possibly want? How could such a person exist in the world?

Anderson was increasingly convinced that Evie had an ulterior motive, a sentiment not often felt or accepted by him.

Then he felt a soft chill upon his forehead as Evie's voice reached him in surprise, "You've already broken the fever? Never have my remedies worked such marvels. Your vitality seems extraordinarily tenacious..."

Now fully awake, Anderson interrupted her in a frosty tone, "Tenacious enough to not seem human, you mean?"

His words were barbed, and as he spoke, his eyes, harboring a glint of cold light, locked onto Evie's clear black orbs.

Evie met his gaze, her head tilting slightly. Anderson's eyes, manifest clearly in her deep, ink-black pupils, painted them with a dark crimson hue.

Anderson possessed eyes of a deep crimson—the color was so profound, it was like a vortex with ripples of deep red permeating throughout his gaze.

Evie favored warm and gentle colors, void of aggression, just like her nature. Thus, she could never fancy such violent hues of deep crimson that resembled an accumulation of countless bloodstains. She never imagined such a color could exist in a person's eyes.

Not particularly adept at concealing her thoughts, the surprise in her eyes was fully captured by Anderson. He was about to brush her hand away, but then he noticed her eyes carrying a hint of astonishment.

"Didn't I say it before? Youre more resilient than the wild grass of the wasteland," Evie, withdrawing her gaze from his eyes, spoke earnestly. "I didnt say you aren't human. Of course, you are. Why would you insult yourself?"

Anderson remained silent, his dark crimson eyes focusing intently on Evie.

Evie, choosing not to continue the conversation, pushed Anderson back onto the bed. After making sure he was lying down properly, she stepped out. Soon, Anderson detected the bitter scent of medicinal herbs wafting through the air.

When Evie returned, she held a cup in each hand, placing them before Anderson—a bowl of vegetable soup and a cup of milk.

"Which would you like to drink first?"

Andersons lips pressed together, refusing to make a sound.

Evie waited before speaking, "You're the most troublesome patient I've ever picked up. You've used up a lot of my medicines. One would think you'd be grateful, yet you're giving me the cold shoulder. That's quite rude of you."

"Why did you save me?"

"I answered that question yesterday."

"As someone utterly ruined and banished from the settlement, I am worthless to anyone. Who are you, really? What do you want?" Anderson's gaze bore into Evie with chilling scrutiny as she looked back at him, bewildered. He answered his own question, "Regardless of your intentions, I won't give you the satisfaction. My life should have been buried in the wasteland already. So save your ulterior motives. What you're doing now is meaningless."

"I once nearly killed you. If you don't want to die, let me leave now, instantly, or I swear I won't hesitate to snap your neck!"

After his tirade, Anderson started a feeble attempt to rise, but stopped upon noticing Evie's steady gaze on his floundering attempts.

Evie methodically poured a glass of water and brought it to his lips. He refused to drink, even knocking over the entire glass. The spilled water soaked his collar and wet the tips of Evie's fingers.

Seeing the water wasted, Evie's brow furrowed as she said, "I don't understand what you're saying. I've never met you before; what possible intent could I have with you?"

"Furthermore, it wasn't me who almost died at your hands; you nearly got killed by my shovel. In your current weakened state, you don't have the capacity to harm me."

"And lastly, you're truly a miserable person. I saved your life, and yet you think I have ulterior motives and even intend to harm me... I don't like people like you, but I'm simply doing what I think is right. Because you are alive, I saved you. Likewise, because I don't like people like you, once you've recovered, I won't keep you or even allow you to stay."

Anderson watched her for a long time until Evie's hand moved toward the hoe at the bedside. He then turned his head away, silent.

Evie picked up the hoe and said, "The milk and the vegetable soup have cooled; don't waste them... And now, you can accept my kindness. Because once you're healed, even if you wish to stay, I won't let you. I have no designs on you."

Anderson watched Evie's retreating figure disappear from view, muttering to himself, "The last person said the same to me. I wont believe it."

Anderson refused Evie's medicine and porridge, and by the time Evie returned, both the milk and vegetable soup had turned completely cold.

Evie's frown deepened as she asked, "Why refuse to drink? Do you no longer wish to live?"

With his eyes closed, Andersons heart was numb, devoid of the will to survive.

Evie sighed, expressing her sorrow, "So many wish to live, yet can't afford to, and here you are willingly giving up precious life. You are pitiful and weak."

At last, Anderson opened his eyes to look at Evie. His gaze was usually cold, indifferent to everything, but perhaps her words had stung him, and the icy facade cracked to reveal a spark of vivid anger.

"I dont believe anyone wants me alive," Anderson ground out his words. "Unless you have a bigger agenda, I will not comply with your wishes."

"Youre much like a large dog I once rescued," Evie said, picking up the bowl of bitter concoction, which had long since gone cold. "It must have been abandoned by its owner; there was a rusted collar around its neck. It had traveled a long way—its paw pads were worn raw. When I found it, it refused treatment and food."

Anderson was puzzled, "…?"

"Everything about you – your actions, words, thoughts – irks me, but I will extend the same patience I did to that dog," Evie stated softly. "Come on, be good, open up, let me feed you the soup."

A word burst from Andersons grudging lips: "out !"

In the moment Anderson's mouth opened, Evie slightly tilted the bowl, pouring a generous mouthful of soup into it. Sensing his urge to spit it out, she swiftly covered his mouth with her hand.

For that instant, silence enveloped the air.

Anderson locked eyes with Evie, teetering on the brink of raving madness, yet he was damned powerless to break free from her grasp.

...Damn it, how could soup taste so vile?