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Untitled - ChrisXPiers - Two
They were on the B.S.A.A's helicopter, headed back to a small airport to be flown back to America. A medic was fussing over Piers, using alcohol wipes to clean the dry blood from several small lacerations on Piers face.
"I'm fine, really." Piers insisted, though it didn't do much to stop the man.
The truth is Piers really was fine, for the most part. The jarring pain in his arm had stopped, leaving only a dull ache in its wake.
Chris chuckled, amused by Piers irritation.
"Once you arrive back in America you will be treated with the C-Virus vaccine." The helicopter pilot said, lowering the helicopter onto a heli-pad at the small airport.
They boarded a jet and Piers reclined his seat, closing his eyes. Chris looked over at the younger man. The choice Piers had made back in the underwater facility didn't even seem to affect him very much.
Once Chris was certain Piers was asleep, he placed his hand on top of Piers own, curling his fingers around it and holding it tightly.
The jet arrive
A Bloody, Stupid Miracle The day we’d cured the human condition was the day I put a bullet through my head and didn’t die. It was also the day I realized how scared I actually was of death, and after hours of muscle ache from holding that gauze against my open skull, after the wound closed and everything went back to normal, I had myself a good old-fashioned brainstorm. How ironic.
But when summer came, everything had fallen to shit. The air scorched my skin and parched my tongue every time I took a breath. The sun glared down on a rapidly-collapsing world, full of the undying bastard children of cruelty and misfortune. What was one to do when their cells regenerated faster than they decomposed?
My feet hit the pavement, now littered with jagged bits of glass to snap at my toes, thoroughly baked by the blazing ball of bitter disdain high overhead. Today was worse than yesterday. Though I’d often wondered the purpose of it anymore, I
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