Together

CW: miscarriage

“We have plenty of time,” he reassured her.

“You sure?” she asked, absentmindedly checking her gun again. The chamber clicked into place, and she stuck it in the waistband of her pants.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

She gave a huff of laughter. “That’s a bit literal.”

He climbed over rubble, remnants of a once proudly standing skyscraper. Since the arrival of the Colossals, mankind’s greatest accomplishments were reduced to crumbling memories of their glory days, when all seemed normal with the world.

When the world wasn’t an apocalyptic wasteland.

Oh, what she would give to sit in traffic again, complaining about petty road rage. Now, she complained about going another week without food, or not having enough ammo to last her another bandit skirmish.

A sharp pain resounded through her head, and she rubbed her temples in aggravation. Her body was angry at her for the lack of sleep it was getting. But she struggled to sleep at night, paralyzed by the fear of what the next day would bring, haunted by the faceless bundle swaddled in blankets.

As he gave her a hand to help her over the unstable debris, he replied, “You could say,” pausing for dramatic effect, “we have the weight of the world on our shoulders.”

She suppressed the urge to facepalm and instead groaned.

“Oh, come on. That was a good one!”

“Yeah, real knee slapper right there. Good enough for dads.”

That last word struck a chord in her heart. Before the end of the world, they were starting a family. She was five weeks pregnant when the first Colossal crash-landed in the middle of the Pacific, the force sending a shockwave the whole planet could feel, and tsunamis raged the coastlines of multiple continents. A few weeks of starvation, dehydration, and stress easily killed the fetus. If he hadn’t been there, she would’ve given up, went out with the baby.

He pulled her out of the dark thoughts. “You know you love me.”

Her lips quirked upward. “That, I do.”

They walked through the deserted streets of Oklahoma City, travelling all the way from Kansas City on foot. It was in this quiet city that they had met their freshman year of college, where they would eventually become a couple and then marry. He had taken her to the restaurant on top of the Devon Tower, and when the sun began to set, casting their table in warm light, he knelt down on one knee and presented her with a golden band of commitment. It was one of the happiest days of her life, second to her finding out she was pregnant.

She thumbed the gold metal on her finger, a fingernail catching at a groove smoothened by her incessant, anxious picking. Straightening her arm out, she looked at the worn ring, dirty yet defiantly still shining. She was glad that she wasn’t an extravagant woman, for the simple ring had lasted her so far with only a few dents and scratches. Up against an Armageddon, that wasn’t bad.

They continued walking, and she listened to him ramble on about whatever was on his mind, sometimes switching topics mid-sentence. He took medicine for his ADHD, but obviously his supply had run out not even a month after the event. It wasn’t a problem for her. She was used to being the quiet one in the relationship anyways.

Dark was approaching. Time to find some shelter for the night. She found a building that seemed mostly intact and twisted the doorknob. The wooden part of the door snapped into pieces, hinges breaking off. Whatever was left of the door fell forward, and a pathetic bang echoed around the empty room.

Presenting the open passage, she said, “Ladies first.”

He stuck his tongue out at her as he ducked through the doorway.

“Oh, this building is definitely not up to code.” He started prattling off every detail wrong with the building.

“Give it a break. It survived multiple earthquakes and, y’know, the complete collapse of human civilization.”

“I was just saying that it wasn’t up to code.”

She snorted, shaking her head. “You civil engineers are a weird breed.”

“At least I didn’t drop out of engineering school and became a political science major.”

“Hey! At least I got a master’s degree.”

“You only got it so you could get a job.”

“Oh, shut up. Not like we have jobs now.”

“’Not like we have jobs now’,” he mimicked in a high-pitched voice, helping her push furniture to barricade the empty doorframe.

They found a room up to his standards and settled in for the night. They used to share a sleeping bag until they found another one, scavenged off a dead body. Took a few weeks for the smell to go away, but he didn’t mind. It sure beat stuffing both of their bodies in one bag.

Come to think of it, they haven’t had an intimate moment since the Colossals’ initial contact. Not like they were in the mood for it, anyways. The most they had done was briefly hold grimy, sweaty hands and lean into each other. In this crumbling world, that was all the comfort they could give each other.

After a few moments of silence, the two of them staring up at the shadowy ceiling, he finally asked, “What do you think...it would’ve looked like?”

The question made her roll over so she faced him, and he did the same.

It wasn’t often she thought of their baby, the miscarriage. She dreamt about their dead child often, desperately reaching out for it as she was pulled back by some invisible force, trying to commit its fuzzy features to memory. Every time she woke up, she would cry at not remembering what the face of her unborn child looked like.

“I...I-“

“You don’t have to answer,” he was quick to add. “Sorry I sprung it up on you like this. I just wonder, ya know?” He stuck out a hand and intertwined it with hers. She hung on like it was her lifeline. In many ways, he was her lifeline, the only thing keeping her here.

Tears stung her eyes, and she choked out, “Yeah, I do.”

Would it have the stormy grey eyes of its mother? Or the sharp, dark eyes of its father? His rosy lips? Her soft, pink cheeks? Would its smile be gentle like his or lopsided like hers?

One thing was for certain, though. It would have this bright gaze of wonder, crinkles between its eyes and cheeks. Both of its parents were inquisitive thinkers, so it wasn’t hard to say it would be curious too.

“Babe, what’s wrong? You’ve looking at me weird. Hey, I’m sorry-“

“No, no,” she shook her head. “You didn’t do anything. I was just thinking about what it would look like. Our child.”

His other hand reached up to tuck a strand of matted hair behind her ear.

“I think it would have your hair. And the way you stick your tongue out when you’re concentrating on something. Your smile. The one-liners that come out once in a blue moon, but they make everyone in the room die of laughter.”

“I think it’d have your eyes, the way they scan anything and everything, saving it for later. Your laugh, how you laugh so hard you can barely breathe. Your cute nose.”

She poked his nose, and he sneezed.

“Hey, watch it with those nasty hands,” he said nasally, rubbing his nose.

“And I thought we were having a tender moment.”

“Yeah, a moment you ruined.”

“I’m not the one that sneezed.”

“I’m not the one poking people with questionable fingers.”

They settled in a peaceful silence again, just looking at each other. If she closed her eyes enough, she could pretend they were back in their apartment, just before the alarm goes off, sharing pillow talk about sweet nothings.

“What do you think it would’ve gone to college for?” he asked.

“I was just gonna let it decide on its own. Hell, could be a trucker for all I care. They make more than a research assistant at a university.”

“Really? I want another engineer in the family. Someone to do Legos with.”

“You know I bought and made that Space Shuttle set for Christmas, right?”

“Doesn’t count ‘cause I didn’t get to do it with you.”

“Not my fault you were traveling for work.”

They share a laugh. She glanced out the broken window to see the moon tenderly smiling upon them, stars brightly twinkling now that light pollution wasn’t a problem anymore.

“Are we sure about this?” she asked.

“About what?”

“You know.”

The carefree smile on his face dropped, and the mood darkened with the thought of tomorrow.

“Don’t really mind the act itself. But I don’t want to be forgotten, when this world turns to dust. Heh, it looks like I don’t have a choice, do I?”

Ever since she met him, he always had big ambitions for the future, wanted to make a big impact on the world.

An idea seemed to cross his mind, and she watched him in confusion as he sat up and pulled out his knife.

“What’re you doing?”

He started carving into the wooden wall. “Gonna write our names down.”

“Why?”

“To show that we were here.”

“Does it matter? To them?”

That made him stop and lower the blade.

“What do you mean?”

“Who is going to see it? Read our names in a long-forgotten language?”

“I...I don’t know.”

“I don’t think we need it. I know your name, and you know mine. We have each other. That’s all that matters.”

After a few more seconds of inner conflict, he put away his dagger and settled back in his sleeping bag.

He turned to look at her, eyes sorrowful. “Can you come here?”

In response, she took her sleeping bag and, rather ungracefully, scooted closer to him.

Laying his head on her chest, he held onto her tight, almost like he was afraid that if he let go, she wouldn’t be there. She carded her fingers through his oily, sweat-slicked hair. Her head rested against the top of his head, and she savored the moment. This may be the last time they lay like this. They stayed like that until they drifted off to sleep, dreaming about a life that could’ve been.

The next morning, they awoke at dawn and continued their trek. It took about half the day before they found their destination.

Standing at the base of the Devon Tower, she put her hands on her hips and looked up.

“So how you reckon we get up there?”

“I guess we could try and climb up the stairs.”

“Won’t it fall? You’re the engineer. Give me some building infrastructure report, or whatever it is you do.”

“Not my expertise. That’s Danny’s job. But it don’t take a genius to know that’s dangerous.”

“So there’s a good chance it’ll collapse on us.”

He shrugged and pulled open a rusted door. “Only one way to find out.”

They were on the 49^th floor, stepping over broken glass and rubble. Miraculously, she found a couple wine glasses still intact.

As she wiped them down with a nearby soiled rag, she heard him digging behind the bar table. He emerged soon after, victorious in his mission, brandishing a bottle of Pinot Noir.

“That the one we had for our proposal?” She cleaned the glasses the best she could before throwing the cloth onto the tabletop.

“No, but I think it’s the one we had for our third anniversary.”

She shrugged. “Close enough.”

With their spoils, they went over to the table they sat in every single time they came to Vast. It was essentially the only upscale restaurant they went to. Every year, they made the trip down to Oklahoma City for their anniversary.

He poured their drinks, and they raised their glasses for a quick toast. There was no need to address who the toast was for. They both knew.

Clink.

They spent the next few hours there, drinking bottle after bottle of wine, and chatting about everything and nothing. Sometimes, she believed they were on another date night, where they would go back home to their comfortable lives. The reality wasn’t what she wanted, but at least she had him by her side, staring lovingly into her eyes.

Her body hummed in a pleasant energy, cheeks radiating warmth. She glanced outside and saw the sun set.

Time was running out.

“Is it...” Her question tapered off.

He snapped his head at her, the slightest tremor in his hand. Then, he looked out the window to check the sun.

“I guess it is.”

They set their glasses down, plugging the bottle with the cork in case anyone else came after them. It was highly unlikely, but they still wanted to be courteous. Their backpacks were left behind, serving no use anymore.

Climbing these last flights of stairs had never been so hard for her. Her knees shook with every step, and her heart pounded in her ears. The only thing keeping her grounded was the steady weight of his hand in hers, clenched just as tight.

When they opened the rooftop service door, they were met with a blast of wind. After spending the past day in a stuffy, decaying building, the cool breeze was refreshing. She took a deep breath in, and it seemed to calm her nerves.

They stood side-by-side, hands still locked together, at the edge of the roof. A strong gust threatened to push them over into the alluring darkness below.

“Guess we made it,” she remarked.

“Just in time, too,” he said, admiring the fading sun. The sun began kissing the world goodbye, promising to come back tomorrow.

Was this the last time she would see the radiant beauty of their manic star?

Then, she heard a muffled thud growing louder and louder.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

Heavy footfalls of an otherworldly being shook the very ground. They scanned the horizon for the familiar profile of a Colossal.

He pointed at a red pin light, its beady, angry eye. “There.”

“You think it spotted us?”

“Looks like it’s coming toward us. So probably, yeah.”

They watched the distant figure grow bigger.

“I wonder,” she began, “how much further we would’ve gone if we kept going?”

“Probably a little further. We’re a pretty hardy team. But in the end...” He trailed off.

She nodded. “You’re right. We were never going to make it. Not that far. Not far enough to...”

She couldn’t say the words, but he squeezed her hand once to let her know he understood what she meant to say.

To make another family.

The Colossal was so close that it mostly blocked the sunset behind it, the orange sky a stark contrast to the dark silhouette, outlining its sheer size. At its head, a singular red light pierced through the black profile, scanning them dutifully.

Massive, metal arms swung back and forth before the monolithic being reached out a mechanical hand, the tip of its finger taller than her standing height.

This was it.

She had expected to be paralyzed in fear, but she wasn’t. It was in this moment, between life and death, that the dread left her body, replacing it with this sick comfort that only served to fuel her resolve. For the first time since the attacks started, she wasn’t scared of the Colossals. Instead, she stood defiantly at the top of skyscraper, refusing to let a Colossal kill her.

Her demise was inevitable, so if she was going to die, it should be on her own terms.

“Together?” she asked, giving him another chance to back out.

“Together,” he confirmed, a tear streaking down his cheek.

They tipped forward and took the plunge.

Soon, love, soon.