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    Chapter Four – Where the Fuck is Burlington?

    “It’s unfortunate that, in times of crisis, the common man cannot trust his government and his co-citizen. Now we need to trust in these samurai. Some of them are true, red-blooded Americans, sure. But just as many of them are foreigners, strangers here to lord over god’s chosen people!

    I say it’s about time we do something about it.”

    –Pastor Loud, during his last televised broadcast, 2026

    ***

    Very, very early in the morning, two days into my semi-mandatory break, Lucy and I were sitting in our dining room (which was still weird to think about) contemplating life, love, and fast-food fries.

    “Why,” I asked as I dabbed a sad, pitiful fry into some ketchup, “Do these things always taste like shit the day after?”

    Lucy pressed three fries of her own into a plastic container of some sort of mustard-ish stuff. It was yellow and tasted strange, but she liked it. “I don’t know,” she complained before chewing down.

    These were the leftovers from two days ago. The choice stuff was all gone already. Picked over by the kittens and Rac as if they were a flock of starving scavenger birds. The burgers were the first to go, then the pastas and the chicken and rice and all the other food slowly disappeared over the course of the day.

    Now all that was left were six big family-sized boxes of fries and a mixed assortment of dipping sauces and packets of ketchup.

    “We need to buy better food,” Lucy said as she grabbed a few more fries.

    “Mm,” I agreed. I could have ordered something, but the effort was just too much. Honestly, it was a wonder that I was out of bed at all. Last night, Gomorrah had sent me a message, asking me if I wanted to head out today, and I’d said yes.

    We were supposed to meet at her church in the morning, so I had diligently set an alarm and woken up early.

    I regretted it. Not that I didn’t love spending time with Gomorrah, it was just the obligation that weighed on me.

    Then I got a ping from Gomorrah between one fry and the next. “Huh,” I said.

    “What’s up?” Lucy asked.

    “Gomorrah’s here.” I sent her a quick reply, telling her to come in. If the door was locked then… well, she could figure that out, I was sure. “We’re here!” I shouted back.

    The clonk-clonk of my favourite pyromancer’s boots echoed through the halls until she stepped into the dinning room. She was in her full regalia, all shiny black not-leather and full face expressionless mask. “I thought we were going to meet this morning,” she said.

    “Hi Delilah,” I said before gesturing to the fries on the table. “Have you had breakfast yet?”

    Gomorrah stared me down, hands on hips. I could just imagine the frown she was wearing at that moment. “Cat, it’s eleven.”

    “AM?” I asked, just to be sure.

    “Yes, AM,” she said.

    “So… I’m not late?”

    Gomorrah stared some more, then she reached up and undid her mask to reveal her unamused face. She was still as pretty as ever… though there was something weird about her that I couldn’t quite place. Maybe when it wasn’t so early I’d figure it out. “Hello, Lucy,” she said, much more sweetly than she’d addressed me.

    “Hi, Delilah,” Lucy said. “How are you doing? Oh, how’s Franny?”

    Delilah’s cheeks flushed, not brightly, but enough that I noticed. And If I noticed, then it might as well have been a siren for Lucy. “She’s well. We’re well. I think.”

    “Oh?” Lucy asked. There was a weight of implication on that single syllable that had Delilah standing a bit taller. “Well is good. I can’t wait to meet Franny again. I’m sure we have a whole bunch of things to talk about.”

    “I’m sure the opportunity will come up,” Delilah replied.

    “So, what are we doing today anyway?” I asked.

    “Well, you might start by putting some pants on,” she said.

    Lucy giggled, then poked me in the shoulder. “Your undersuit thing’s in the bedroom. It’s a bit melted though.”

    “Yeah, I’m just going to buy a new one, I think. Hey, do I have time to shower?” I asked Gomorrah.

    The look she gave me was priceless, especially when I started laughing. “What’s so funny?”

    “No, I’m kidding, I showered already,” I said.

    “But you’re not wearing any clothes,” Delilah said. “Did you just… shower then change back into sleepwear?”

    I pinched the front of my shirt. It was one of those Lucy had made. It said If you can read this you are in range. “Okay, first, this isn’t sleepwear, it’s an oversized t-shirt for sleeping. It’s different. Second, I didn’t change into fresh clothes, I just put this back on.”

    Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

    “Cat, that’s disgusting,” Delilah said.

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