Rust in the Veinv2

8/7/2019 Rust in the Veinv2

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Rust in the Vein

The Girl

The road was a vein in the sea, the wheat an endless billowy expanse of flowing

grass, ebbing and eddying at the will of the wind. The road. Along this circuit a redness

seemed to shift, as if at each moment a small part of the long gray line became a rust-

red, a dullish blur of the slightest variation. In another moment it the blur was gone, the

gray was back, the unnoticeable shift in hue, unnoticed went on. Followed if only with

great care.

Evening approached from above, a dying dusk peaceably withdrew from the night

with ease. The girl, self-guided along the route seemed not to notice the billowing of the

wheat-sea nor the receding light, vanquished day. Her focus was the road, a linear

world where the only way was forward, and she went thus; unstoppable master of a

thoughtless world. Her wrist was thin, her hand was slight, and needlelike fingers

moved little, guided by unconscious thought, whatever was needed to keep the car for-

ward; her grip to the wheel. The way was silent, no sounds, no lights, just sharpening

eyes and a darker world, darker than the one she left behind; she, the red pulse of a

dark vein.


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Rust in the VeinFrom time to time she paused toglance and out the corner of her eye she would

see the wheat; expansive as the universe and endless as the stars. Untouchable and

unreachable. The road wentstraight, she could not touch where she could not pass

and she could not go into the wheat. She drove on thus for hours, long into thedeep of

night, till the time when the dark shadow of the new moon rested still above the plains,

a silhouette in the empty world. (Consider cutting this last sentence.)

Hours later...

As if to change the rules, she moved the hand not holding the wheel, and

pressed the window, opening it, just a bit. A rush of wind blew through the crack, the air

allowed only a small space to pass. The sound hit her ears unevenly, throwing off her

balance, as the left ear listened to the roaring gust, and the right one the dull rumble of

wind whipping through wheat. From the corners of her eyes she could feel tears

streaming, they blew across her face as the wind caught her pupils, and there was a

thud and a squeal as she swerved, deviating from the straight course. Thewind blew

cold against her skin, and the harshness became a tickle, prickling goosebumps from

within as she regained control.


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Rust in the VeinThe world outside was new, greater than the line which the car drew through the

field. Outside was a cool place of dry air, alive with the scents of the field, arid oats and

settled dust. The girl turned an eye to the field (wheat), trying to pierce the pitch, to

(seeing) see all that she had missed as she traveled. She didnt know why she hadnt

noticed it before, nor could she remember how she started driving and when, it was all a

secret hidden in the void of her mind (her mental void), (the lacuna between the un-

known and the present.) Without warning she stopped, the car stopped. For hours the

girls mind had been blank, detached from the surroundings, obeying a simple command

forward. Now it was free (now she was free). The red pulse of the vein was still, un-

moving (red car) in the otherwise dark road. She stepped out.

The temperature dropped as she disembarked, the cool wind hadceased, but

the air remained gelid and goosebumps outspread through her body. The headlights

left glaring to the road brightened an endless path, obscured finally by the diffusing

beams. The girl looked up, the flatness of the field made for a seamless boundary be-

tween earth and sky. She starred into the heavens, the universe lay bare, twinkling


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Rust in the Veinbright lights and far away stars giving life to the night. Her arms remained restless at

her sides as the falling temperature put a chill within.

She tried to remember, it was strange that she could not. She wondered. Before

it hadnt even occurred to her to try, and now when she did she could not. She tried to

see the images, feel the details,but she could recall nothing. Not a name, not a home,

no place and no one. She focused on her goosebumps, the chill in her limbs, trying to

live in each sensation as the frigid air switched off her senses. The cold descended as

an icy tear dripped, she wanted to know the things she had forgotten, but if she could

not, she would live in this moment, experiencing all of the present situation. She closed

her eyes and she could feel, she couldnt see but she could feel, and she knew she was

a part of this world, for how long she couldnt say, but in her heart she belonged. Tears

warmed her eyes, but dripped icily down her cheek as she opened her eyes once more.

One with the stars and at home in the nights cold.

The Man


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Rust in the VeinDay. It was bright. All around him was the sun, reflected perfectly from each an-

gle, as if each object graced by its rays became an interpretation of its image. He

looked ahead, noting the intensity but not noticing as the bright oranges and blues mani-

fested themselves through muted distortions. He had been squinting all the while, for so

long that hed forgotten what it was to keep eyes open wide. The brightness was a glis-

tening blur and the images unclear.

He didnt remember what clarity was, he didnt remember anything at all. From

within the soles of his feet an ache resonated, it complemented the sprain in his ankle,

but he didnt regard either sensation. The man couldnt remember a time without such

feelings (sensations), and as a consequence he didnt pay them attention. The road

stretched on for miles, up into the (red) hills. He walked. His legs obeyed a rhythmic

precision, the beat of a drum, the rhythm ticked off inside his head and he had not a

thought, he moved forward.

Hewalked till his feet bled, and then he walked some more. Blood dripped from

blisters inside, hidden in the shoes that concealed his soles feet. It pooled in murky

warm ponds, drying in part, crusting in part, the rest stayed warm and liquid, almost a

comfort. A vague signal impulse/urge guided him east towards the red hills. He might

have resisted the call, if he was even aware of it.


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Rust in the Vein

Miles More...

His mouth was parched, dry to the back of his throat, he tasted his flesh on his

tongue as he inhaled, taking short breaths through his mouth which intensified the

cracking of his stained lips. Ahead the hills looked larger, the distance seemed less dis-

tant, he was nearing the place. He started to look around. Instinctively, he searched to

see what was there, what was at the base of the hill. A flat plain broken by jagged

ridges, which seemed mere anomalies at first, but when followed formed a pattern as

they merged, heightening to form the foothills of the hill. All around, the sand, the

ground, the dust which blew in the air was stained by this hue. He hadnt noticed it be-

fore but now he noted the commonality. The orange and blue skies were gone, as well

as the glaring reflections. The sun was hidden behind clouds, and he found himself

awoken in a new world. Different from the one he left behind.


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Rust in the VeinThe Girl

She blinked. Her eyelids cracked from frost. Night was gone, day hadcome

snuck in, obliterating the dark, pushing it back to its boundaries. Her neck stiffened as

she tried to move, her head was still turned skyward, to the stars which were now hid-

den in the blue. It was day and she was there, the field no longer seemed so endless

but the road much the same as it did before. She knew exactly how long she had been

starring, to the hour, the minute, and the second. Why should this be?

Every detail of night before was clear, she had been there the whole time, unmoving,

her shivers had stopped and tears had dried.

The car. It had been left running all the while, its sputtering motor seized a few

hours prior as the gas extinguished its last vapors, empty. She lifted her arms to

stretch; stiff, painful and resistant. Muscles fixed all night. Was this normal? Stat-

uesque. But she remembered it all. The night, the past six hours were clear as glass.

Something was changing.

Inside the car was a bottle of water under her seat. She remembered it now and

walked slowly to the car, stretching through the stiffness. She reached under the seat,


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Rust in the Veingrabbed the water and took a short sip. Instinct told her to conserve. On the seat next

to the drivers lay a backpack. It was worn and black. She put the bottle inside the bag

and was overwhelmed by a sudden hunger. She couldnt remember the last time she

ate, if ever. No food in the backpack, nothing in the car, she examined the vehicle

closely, nothing inside, nothing out, and without fuel it was useless.

All the while, driving in the void, she hadnt noticed her direction. Now, seeing

the direction from which the sun came and how the car was pointed the girl came to a

realization. She was going west. She glanced again at the rustingcar, and turned to

the direction opposite mornings sun. Her foot urged her forward, the other followed.

She went west.

The Man

Hunger. He was hungry and thirsty too. He stopped to rest at the foothills of

hills, to tend to the injuries that until now had seemed unnaturally ignorable. This was


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Rust in the Veinno longer the case. A pain seized himdouble sharp. It sprung from the blisters in his

feet and spread through the sprain in his ankle, an endlessly varied torment which put

him to the ground and gave no promise of reprieve. He pulled off the white sneakers

which had served him for unknown miles to observe the damage done. His feet were

bleeding. The blood smelt putrid androtten,rich and sick, the precursor to infection.

Unhealthy. He opened up the shoes to the sun, hoping to roast out the germs and dry

out the fabric.

The sun shone bright again, no shade in sight. The man had no water with which

to clean the wounds or to drink, but he did have pockets and he checked them. Inside

were little silver packets which bared no insignia. He opened them to see what was in-

side. Moist wipes, of the kind one would find at a restaurant at the end of a meal. Re-

freshing, wet, and lemon scented. He scrutinized them, noting the antiseptic aroma be-

fore applying them to his feet. Sopping up the spoiling blood and wiping off the crusted

filth.

He had to rest, common sense told him this was neither the place nor the time.

But what could he do with feet that would not move, and blood sugar run dangerously

low? He closed his eyes, sighed, made a pillow of the flattest rock, and spread out in

the baking sun. Letting himself cook as he passed into sleep, dreaming of better things,


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Rust in the Vein

forgettinghimself in a place where the harsh heat was re-imagined as welcoming

warmth.

The Girl

The water. She drank it all in one gulp. The plan had been to conserve, but she

wastoo thirsty. Her throat bore the cracked feeling of desiccated flesh. The sick salti-

ness and blistery taste which comes to the throat when one has not drank in hours. Un-

til then she was able to trust herself, her body and mind obeying the necessary com-

mands, but in an instance of momentary weakness she faltered, and drank the whole

thing down. A river of plastic infused water down her throat in one warm gulp. Her

throat felt much better, her life however perhaps finished.

Hours later...

She continued to walk. The thirst thrice returned and the hunger even greater, yet she

could not stop. Her body was unerring, relentless. Nothing mattered, hunger, thirst or

otherwise. She followed the road into the west without a stop, not even a misstep.

Even as the terrain started to change, her pace stayed steady. Eyes forward, all uncer-

tain, save her steps which continued to take her forward. Days on.


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Rust in the VeinSince recovering awareness she had noticed many things, or rather she noticed

very little. Wherever she happened to be, she seemed to be the only one there. There

seemed to be little else. Even if the urge to walk had not compelled her, there was noth-

ing for her in all the places she had been. Each place she passed in her miles of walk-

ing seemed as desolate as the last, over time the form and shape of the desolation

changed, but the only meaningful changes were within her.

She was becoming aware of another thing. Whatever her desires were, whether to quell

hunger or thirst, they didnt correspond to her needs. Her mind longed for food and wa-

ter, but her body never fatigued. It was if thirst and hunger only existed as someone

elses memory, one which did not correspond to her current reality. She imagined thirst

but she was without delirium. Whatever she thought she needed, she didnt. The

hunger seemed an illusion, the pain a distraction. She was stronger than her mind

wanted her to believe. With all that in mind sporting an expressionless face which tele-

graphed no emotion she marched on.

The Man

Shivers inside shivers. Now it was cold. The color of his dreams went from yel-

low to blue and when he woke up the sun had gone too. Things had changed, so had


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Rust in the Veinhe. The hunger departed, the thirst but a memory. The bleeding had ceased and the

infection clearing, with all this in mind the man reached for his face, guiding the back of

his hand tentatively against his features, expectant of the burn which inevitably results

from long exposure. No burn. No hunger. No thirst. No burn. As if the sensations he

knew to feel were not the sensations he could feel. Rested and not bested, he got up

and began to explore.

From of the edge of the great black circle hanging mute in the sky was the thinest

edge of a crescent moon, utilizing this light he looked to see, his eyes slowly adjusting to

the dark world. Beneath him were his sneakers, fully dried and rust tinted from the

blood. He put them on tying them tight as he moved to explore the hill. Climbing the

ridges provided him with purpose and a chance to test the limits of his renewed body.

His muscles redoubled with power and his lungs processed air with incomparable effi-

ciency, within ten minuets of casual exploring he found himself half way up the hill. Far

enough that had there been lights, signs of towns in the distance, he would have seen

them. He did not. The land lay dead, an endless desert mostly flat with modest hills

stretched on for miles. The only sounds were the occasional howl. He thought he

ought to keep climbing, the man was compelled to see this through.


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Rust in the VeinThe hill grew steeper as he ascended further, the calm slopes transitioned to

steep faces but his pace and struggle adapted naturally to the new pressures. He

clawed at the rock face, digging deep into the dirt, finding soft spots where he could and

pulling himself up an arms length at a time. Sometime during the struggle he seemed

to lose himself, as if his mind went blank and he became an observer of his bodys ac-

tions. One had to admit they were impressive. His breaths were controlled, unhurried

or harried. He breathed as much as necessary to fuel his muscles and without looking

reached for the spots most likely to keep his grip, as he ascended. His body obeyed its

own directive, one he could not possibly understand.

He was who he was,

He reached the top and he was what was there. An empty vessel devoid of a past or fu-

ture, Outside of time. The world wasnt much beyond the world inside him. It felt like

eons since he knew who he was, a gap he couldnt possibly bridge but the surreal

reawakening had bore sweet

fruit. Everyone is their own world and tonight he was his, looking down on the dark

world that lay before him he realized, that it was all his. Every inch, every mile, was a


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Rust in the Veinprice paid in blood and sweat. It wasnt a sweet feeling, it wasnt a bitter either, it was

just feeling, and he felt it all. The man was home in a new world less old. The air was

sparse, his sight was clear. Emotions emerged from a new place, for the longest time

all he felt were sensations, what were these feelings that didnt relate to his senses?This

is where they would find him.

The Girl

Her face was one with the sun, new worlds sprung up, as old ones passed along

the journey. Different roads, new ones, old ones all led the same way. She led the way,

moving to where instinct for lack of a better term called. Miles more, hours into days,

daylight gone and back. She slept little, ate less, always moving on. Skin browned by

time, and the bright. It was bright. All around her was sunlight, reflected perfectly from

each angle, as if each object graced by its rays became an interpretation of its image.

She looked ahead, noting the intensity but not noticing as the bright oranges and blues

manifested themselves through muted distortions. She had been squinting all the while,

for so long that shed forgotten what it was to keep eyes open wide. The brightness was

a glistening blur and the images unclear.


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Rust in the VeinIn the distance there were hills, red hills both emblazoned by light and in part

shrouded by dust. They called to her, the source of her devotion lay plainly in sight, like

the end of a race, the end of a dream. Her stomach lurched as she put one foot forward

waiting for the next to follow. Whatever it was that she needed to find, herself, her mem-

ory, or a new beginning, she would find there. Her head arched up slightly and her back

stiffened just a bit, as the other foot followed, taking her closer to the dusty hills in sight.

Meeting

When her hand, had made its last grasp, her leg its last push, and she ascended

to the apex, she stood up and stopped. There was a man. They regarded each other

cooly for a few minuets, noting the physique, impressions, and making connections re-

quiring no words. Strange isnt it? the man said. There is still that disconnect. she

answered, But I think its all sorting. So, we are to be human? He remarked.

The bombs had long fallen, the biology of this place had long ceased, and the

newcomers were adapting. I know emotion, pain, uncertainty does not suit our mecha-

nized flesh. But then again ionizing radiation, and carbon based food consumption in a

world with no more food, did not suit their biotic existence. After what they did to them-

selves, after what we did to them, I think we owe it to them to share the old existence.


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Rust in the VeinThis she spoke. Well, he said, so be it, the others will come soon. As he spoke an

intense feeling, physical and emotional seized him. His engineered body felt a flush

with blood and heat as he looked down to the stiffening member straining to rupture his

pants. The newly acquired instincts were powerfully compellingly odd. The girl felt it

too, a moistness and a red hotness between her legs, and a desire to receive what he

wanted to give her. She sprung forward and grasped his hand pulling him back against

the rocks. She pulled off her pants, spread her legs, as the man a washed in sensation

removed the last cloth barrier to this new life. She arched back, and he made the con-

nection.

Rust in the Veinv2

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