The wind whistled through the branches around her, creating a faint groaning and creaking sound as the wood shifted, leaves swaying and dancing to the beat-less tune created. The dancers were beautiful; varying shades of dark bloody red, light apple red, a pumpkin orange, squash yellow, and even occasionally there was still a vibrant, life filled green dancer, holding strongly onto its partner in the branch.
Adeline sat among the arms of the tree, listening to the tune that soothed her frayed mind trying not to think about the chaos that roamed around her. This tree, this safe haven, was all she had left until she was called for, told to get down and start moving again. It was her only source of beauty in a world where everything was grey, lifeless, and beyond repair.
No, she thought, there is Michael but he is less beautiful now. A friend from her childhood, her travelling companion in this great apocalypse. He'd been an outgoing, lively, bright individual before the Incident, a soccer player, active in the community. A great boy turned caustic and angry and cynical man who’d had to put down his own mother.
She turned her hazel eyes to the sky, finding soft pastels of orange, pink, yellow, and blue painting the sunset from her memories into the sky. It seemed so wrong for something so beautiful to happen so regularly in this world she’d inherited. Both sunsets and sunrises were something she saw everyday, but their beauty remained imprinted in her mind like the faint memory of a Van Gogh painting, not quite tangible.
Sometimes, there was a silhouette in the painting.
A tall, muscular but thin silhouette.
“Adeline!”
She startled in her haven, gripping the encasing branches to steady herself and blinking, watching the colours of the beautiful sunset disappear from her mind’s eye, replaced by the dull blue of a long gone sun. The sunsets just didn’t seem to hold any ounce of beauty anymore.
She glanced down, returning to the world, eyes widening at the carnage below that she’d been separated from for such a short time. A man stood at the base of the tree, brown hair shorn short and windblown from running. An assault rifle was strapped across his torso, crushing the grey sweatshirt and leather coat he wore to keep out the chill of death.
“We have to find shelter before the sun rises.” Michael called again, glancing around behind him. She sniffed, looking back out to the deathly blue sky for a heartbeat more before gripping the branch she sat on and finding her way down nimbly, accustomed to climbing these havens now.
The dead didn’t know how to climb trees.
The man at the base of the tree caught her around the waist as she dropped off the last branch, bringing her close to his chest to catch her weight against him, then looking at her without setting her down. Gone was the warm smile that used to accompany such close proximity.
“Are you ready?” he questioned softly, breath tickling her cheek and lifting strands of hair away from her face. She nodded and he set her down, returning her to normal height. Grabbing her hand, walking away. Finger on the trigger of the rifle. Like always.
They found a solitary barn after an hour, in surprisingly good shape for the Hell that had burst forth from the earth a few months ago. Michael left Adeline outside for a moment while he slipped inside the door, checking for reanimated human corpses before even thinking to allow Adeline in.
“Come on.” he called. She gripped the blood encrusted handle to the sliding door and pushed it a little, opening a gap just big enough for her slim frame. She shut the door again behind her, and gripped the padlock that lay on the table beside her. The combination was scratched into the back. Either the previous owner of this establishment wasn’t very intelligent, or another group had occupied this building before.
He stood at the base of a pile of hay that spilled over the rafters in the loft above. Adeline looked up at him, and he gestured for her to join him. She located the ladder that led up, and gripped it firmly in calloused, practiced hands. The rungs were soft under her grip, the wood squishing slightly with each transfer of weight. The climb was a long one, almost thirty feet up, and the rungs became increasingly unstable as she went, causing concern. On the third to last rung, her fear came to fruition, the soft wood squealing under her grip, and then snapping.
A shriek escaped through her chapped lips as her other hand floundered for the hold it had lost, looking for any purchase to save herself. A large, scarred, and tan hand reached down for her and her hand slapped the wrist, fingers curling tightly around the bony structure and clinging on for dear life. Her boots scraped against the wood, banging slightly with each contact. A second hand appeared over the ledge and she too grabbed this one, flexing her biceps and abdomen as her childhood friend pulled her up over the ledge, and then fell backward onto the pile of hay, Adeline landing atop him, her knee just inches from his groin.
“Hey,” she murmured, relishing in the contact and proximity, a soft, seductive smile flirting with her lips.
“Hey.” he returned, his own lips almost forming a sort of smile.
“Fancy seeing you ‘round here.” she teased. His lips broke into a full grin then, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and rolling over on top of her.
“I’ll just stay here until the dead come knocking.” he decided.
“I can’t breathe.” she whined, laughing. He slipped off her, lying beside her and cradling her in one arm and playing with her auburn locks with the free appendage.
“Better?” he questioned, green eyes tracing the spattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose.
“Better.”