Finding North

by Heatherly

Days now. Days he spends staring at that staff, drowning in the fine wooden grains. I don't know what he intends with it, or if he intends anything at all.

Perhaps he is simply mad, like so many others.

I suppose I shall have to leave him then. The last one I traveled with went mad...

It did not end well. But this one seems to be sane enough, for companionship, at least. His powers make it useful to find food, and he's a gentle lover, no matter that he calls out another's name in bed.

For that matter, I suppose I do as well. Sometimes.

*

I dreamed of him last night. The last traveler to grace my bed. And graced my heart as well, I suppose. Odd how a man so cold could make me so warm. But I would catch these glimpses of what he must have been like before-a joker, prankster. Like the morning he woke me with snow. In the middle of a tropical island, a shift so hot we slept naked on the sand, I woke up to snow.

He'd never used his powers before then. But he did after that, making drinks cold, freezing our food so it would last longer. Useful.

But the next shift took us to a desert, and I woke up to him staring blankly across the sands, wrapped in memories. He lost interest in food, sleep. Just sat staring into the waste. And then he set off without supplies, murmuring that Scott was still out there. I tried to stop him, at first, but eventually I gave up. I found him a few days later. He'd walked right through a pocket of instability, and bled to death, an arm and leg sliced off. I wonder what he saw...or thought he saw.

*

We fought today. He called me "Dom." It's not like he hasn't done that before, without thinking, but I was tired and cranky today, and blew up at him. He got this most pitiful look on his face. I felt like I'd just slapped a helpless puppy. But I was too angry to stop, so I just kept going. The worst part is that he didn't shout back. He just stood there and took it, staring into my eyes as if he was just realizing whose they were.

Maybe he's more mad than I thought.

*

Back to the routine again. The fight has passed into history, neither of us being willing to speak of it. I woke up this morning to the smell of fresh rabbit. I cleaned up afterward and we set out. This shift is a woodland, and I learned enough skills from my sensei for us to be comfortable. It never seems to change. No matter what the shift, we just keep going. Walking, running, crawling toward some destination. In truth, the only destination we have is survival.

And there are days I wonder what the point of that even is.

*

Another shift, and we walk in the midst of what once was a city. We found shelter in an abandoned building-one of many. There is very little life in this city. By day we scavenge, searching for food or equipment. I found a rifle that still seems to work, hopefully it'll last through the next shift. He's begun exercising each morning, odd martial dances with that stick of his. Strangely compelling, graceful movements, but dangerous as well. They're nothing I recognize, and I've had a fairly thorough study of the martial arts. Perhaps he is from another time after all.

*

This shift has lasted a long time. He still does his dances in the morning, and I've started to join with him, doing katas alongside him. It's been such a long time my muscles are sore in the evening, but it's a good thing. Each stroke and kick reminds me of my sensei, and I need all the help I can get to sleep without dreams.

I think he feels the same. His dances must bring back memories for him as well, for each night he comes to me with an almost desperate need. I think we both are trying to forget.

We can't forget though. The memories haunt us both. For myself, I fall back into routine. It's like coding, one command after the next. I used to drown myself in coding, spending hours pecking commands into the computer. And everything would come out the same. Regardless of how hard I hit the keyboard, or whether I was crying or laughing with joy, the computer would still stay the same.

I haven't seen a computer in years.

I haven't seen anything powered by electricity in years either.

This is a new world. I have to remember that.

*

Another fight. My fault this time. I was dreaming of the old world, and an old lover. I woke sobbing from a nightmare, crying her name. He tried to comfort me and I turned away. He finally yelled at me in frustration.

"How I am supposed to help if you won't ever talk to me?"

I replied more coldly than I needed to.

'Whoever said we needed to talk?"

"Kate..."

I ignored him and walked away. I think he's falling in love with me. Or at least, with who he wants me to be. Have I really become so numb? I care for him, a little at least. He's a companion, a decent bedmate, and his skill are useful to me, but...

His skills are useful to me. Oh, God, I sound just like her. I've become just as cold and made of ice as I accused her of being.

*

I'm leaving him. I left all the supplies he'd need and took only a few for myself. I might be turning into ice, but I still have enough compassion left to leave before I hurt him even more. I don't really have a destination, but I think I'll head north, if I can figure out where that is. Perhaps I'll eventually make it to a shift's version of Boston, if there is one. Maybe I can figure out where I went wrong, where I went numb.

I've been surviving. From one day to the next, one week, one month. No goals, no purpose. At least he has a goal. To be sure, it's a mad goal. He thinks he'll make that stick of his into something called a psimtar, and somehow fix the shifts. But at least it's a goal. He has a purpose.

I've lost that.

Or maybe I'll try to find Japan, see if my sensei still lives.

I have to find a purpose, a reason. She taught me that. She would tell me of what her father did to her, and of how she survived the clinic. And she would tell me how she survived. She had a goal, a purpose.

That's what I have to find.

I turn away from him and phase into the walls, leaving him sleeping soundly. I'll make quicker time in phased form, as long as I'm careful when the next shift comes.

North. I want to go north.

I haven't seen snow for a long time.

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