aoife had been in the middle of a trade when it happened. one moment every thing was quiet, and then suddenly things dissolved into utter chaos. the man she was trading with began to panic, and despite aoife’s urging to remain calm, he ran. the moment he exited the shed they were in, he was shot. aoife watched his body fold inward, tumbling to the ground into an unmoving heap. she calmly gathered her things- two flare guns, two knives, and a handgun. she placed the flare guns and the knives into her backpack but tucked the handgun into the waistband of her pants. aoife took another second to gather herself- remind herself that anything she was about to go through couldn’t be any worse than what she’d been through before.
the shed she was in currently was rather large, but it provided not nearly enough shelter. it was certainly better than standing out in the open but there was only one ground floor exit. that was something that always made her nervous. another option to escape was to drop from a window. she’d have to climb a rather tall shelf, but it still seemed to be a better option than to run straight into the arms of the person who just killed the guy she’d been trading with. so that’s what she decided to do. aoife was halfway out of the window when the person started into the garage. immediately they began firing, aoife feeling a round whizz just past her ear. after giving herself one final push she fell to the ground. the tree line wasn’t far away, all she’d have to do was make it there and then she could be figure out what to do next.
aoife jumped up from the ground and dashed for the trees. with her footfall light as she could possibly make it, she crept until she found what seemed to be a good spot to stay in for the moment. but just as she was about to settle in she saw a person, a blonde, running for the trees as well. ‘please, please, please- don’t be one of them.’ when the girl saw her, uttering the words ‘sh. raiders.’, aoife nearly breathed a sigh of relief. “i know-” aoife dropped to a crouching position to ensure even more that no one would be able to see them. “-there’s a lot of ‘em, by the looks of it.”
cosima hadn’t been in cheyenne long and she was certainly no expert in its geography. the city was small enough, particularly when held up against las vegas or santa cruz. that was part of the appeal, she supposed--less nooks and crannies, a smaller population. it was a vexation that such a small place could be such a labyrinth--an ever-changing maze, likened in scare factor to the after hours cornfields of a pumpkin patch. debris and human detritus obscured familiar landmarks one day that were clear the week prior. the path of escape clearest to her could easily reroute them into a trap.
at the other woman’s voice, cosima raised a brow. the accent was a surprise--of all the places she thought she’d hear an irish accent, bumfuck, wyoming was not principle among them. it stole her voice only for a moment before she smiled back. “how do they--” forget it. nevermind. it didn’t matter how people like this found each other. it didn’t matter how people like this fucking MADE each other. what mattered was that they were here and they were hunting. cosima wasn’t big or mean. she wasn’t an angry shot or a tough right hook and this irish girl didn’t look mean either. but cozy ramsey was smart and maybe she was do. if nothing else, perhaps they could figure out something that could get them both out alive.
“there’s a lot of them,” she confirmed, brows knitted in the same concern that hushed her tone. these run-ins with others made small talk feel even stranger than when it was relegated to bus stops and starbucks lines. what words did two people share at the end of the world when their fellow man hunted them as readily as the dead? “what do we do?” she asked, turning her gaze back to the other woman. “I don’t know the area well; where do we go?” she felt like a child asking and it made her face burnt with the same it brought her. adam wouldn’t be afraid, but he was a stronger man than she. “I have a gun” was her only offer, but she followed it with old world pleasantries as the men continued to look for dangerous dame. “my name’s cosima. my friends--” did she have any, save adam becher? “people call me cozy.”
