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Black combat boots on sand.
Raven had never felt sand before. Not like this. The desert was almost like space. Desolate. Lonely. At a young age she had found ways to combat that. But space never got in your nose, your mouth, your hair. Space suffocated you in an instant while the desert dried you out and left you for dead, not even bothering to finish you off.
The desert was her mother. She supposed she waxed poetic when the end was near. She had been near the end many times. But this was for sure. It had to be.
Raven didn’t think sand could crunch. This sand did, beneath black, clubbed feet. Feet she recognized.
“God, please be a hallucination,” Raven’s voice cracked. Her lips were bleeding from the dehydration as she tried to raise her head.
She only got a glimpse of that repellent smirk.
“Now is that any way to thank me?” the Hallucination of Murphy asked.
Raven had to give it to herself. Her imagination was somehow still going strong even while her body was dying.
“I could always leave you here to rot,” Murphy said. “You would do the same to me.”
“You shot me," Raven said. "You think that makes me in a trusting mood?"
“Are you in a living mood?” Murphy asked.
Raven took him in. He looked healthy, despite the dirt and scrapes. Like he had three square meals a day. Like he didn't have a bullet in his spine. "I can't believe you made it."
This must be hell.
“God has plans for me,” Murphy said. “At least that’s what Jaha said after he pushed some kid out of the row boat.”
“Row boat?” Raven asked.
"First class ticket to The City of Light," Murphy said. "That is what you wanted, right?"
“It’s real?”
“Real enough,” Murphy said. “I’m not going to carry you. drag yourself to the beach or not. Doesn’t matter to me.”
His boots crunched away.
Raven’s brace hit the bottom of the boat with a dull thunk. She let it fall harder than necessary. On the one hand she was probably about to die from dehydration so she couldn’t control her limbs anyway. On the other, she wanted to prove a point. His icy eyes flicked to her leg only for a second that she could tell.
“Took you long enough,” Murphy said, pulling the oars through the water with a grunt.
“You know I would have crawled here faster but somehow a bullet managed to find its way to my spine,” Raven cut out.
“Are you sure you’re dying?” Murphy asked. “You seem the same to me as ever.”
“Well last time I was dying too,” Raven said, settling into the boat.
"We both were," Murphy recalled. He took another look. “You look fine to me.”
Raven knew better than to take that as a compliment.
He would have to actually be looking at her for that to be true.
“If I throw up, I’m throwing up on you,” Raven said.
“Glad to be of service,” Murphy said. “You wouldn’t be saying that if you wanted me to get to shore on time.”
Murphy looked up at the sky and picked up his pace.
“You don’t want to be here when the sun sets.”
“What happens then?” Raven asked.
“What happens is one of us is going overboard,” Murphy said grimly. It didn’t have the usual tenor of his sardonic wit. There was something behind his eyes that didn’t make them seem so empty. Something mournful, like he was remembering a forgotten dream.
"Why?"
"Beats me," Murphy said. "Please the gods?"
Raven never took Murphy to be someone with faith. When he spoke, it sounded like he was telling an inside joke that only he was in on.
“You better get rowing then,” Raven replied coolly. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
“Yeah, I’m a regular Charon,” Murphy said, more to himself as far as she could tell.
“Charon?” Raven asked.
What was that about not giving him the satisfaction?
“It’s nothing,” Murphy replied. “Just some old story.”
“The one who ferried the dead across the River Styx,” Raven said. “You’re not the only one on the outer rings who read.
“I guess that makes us lost souls then,” Murphy remarked.
She felt a wave of what she felt before in the drop ship. Despite how much they had hurt each other, there was some sort of mutual understanding. The two of them were the most lost out of everyone. Somehow it made this easier.
“We were lost the moment we hit the ground,” Raven said.
Murphy’s eyes locked with hers. She figured his grunt was in agreement with her.
“What station were you from again?” Asking questions seemed like the best way for her not to pass out.
Murphy hesitated. “Mecha.”
“No,” Raven said. “I’m from Mecha.”
Murphy only shrugged. The sun was receding beneath the horizon as they hit the beach. No point in asking Murphy for help. She never needed it before. He stood by the boat, arms crossed petulantly, waiting for her to scramble from the boat.
“How’d you find this place?” Raven asked.
“Fortune favors the whatever.” Murphy started off, not waiting for her to catch up.
“Brave?” Raven asked. “Not sure you were what they had in mind.”
“I didn’t say brave,” Murphy said shortly.
Raven had a lot of questions, but she chose to focus her energy on following him. She had made a decision when she started out on her own. She wasn’t about to question it now.
“How’d you find me?” Raven asked. It was the only thing that gave him pause.
“The Fates showed me,” Murphy said.
“Are you joking?”
“There are monitors everywhere,” Murphy said. “I saw you coming.”
Howls reverberated through the canyon and Raven stopped short.
Murphy started off again, the spell broken. “Coyotes. They’re more afraid of us than we are of them.”
Murphy stopped in front of a hatch door.
“Are you coming or not?” Murphy wrenched open the door and disappeared through the opening. Raven made her way towards it carefully.
“What is this place?” She followed Murphy down the stairs after closing the door behind her.
“And come to the house of Hades and dread Persephoneia,” Murphy said, arms outstretched as Raven hit the bottom step.
Her skin tingled and she looked down in shock to see Murphy’s bare hand, outstretched and steadying her on the final step. His eyes were scanning the rest of the room, not even looking at her. She dropped his hand.
“What?” she asked, unsure.
“I thought you read, Reyes,” Murphy remarked, looking back, the mocking look back in his eyes. “You asked where we were.”
“This is The City of Light?” Raven asked doubtfully.
“Disappointed?” Murphy asked. He wasn’t expecting an answer. Everything about this god-forsaken rock was a disappointment.
Raven eased into an armchair. Murphy stood, his eyes sharp on her for a second before taking a seat across from her. She had a feeling she was sitting in his chair.
“Got any food in this joint?” Raven finally asked, breaking the silence.
“You sure you want to accept anything from me?”
“Anything’s better than a bullet.”
“I can’t accidentally give you food, Raven,” he asked, tired. Well, she would never get tired of reminding him what he did to her. Accidental or not, she had never been that easy to forgive. “I already said I was sorry for shooting you. That’s all you get.”
Like it wasn’t even his fault. She tried to grasp hold of her righteous anger, but it was slipping through her fingers. There was something about this place. It was almost homey, if anything had ever felt homey to her before. Even Murphy seemed to have a more relaxed stance, despite his tanned skin and spiraled hair. He eased off the arm chair and fooled around in the cupboard before returning.
“Crackers?” Raven asked as he tossed it in her lap.
“And scotch,” Murphy said. “Change your life.”
Raven took a sip. “That’s disgusting.” She downed the entire glass.
And Murphy smiled.
Murphy smiled. And for a moment, he was almost beautiful. The strange and alien looking angles to his face contorted to genuine pleasure. If she hadn’t caught herself, she might have even joined him.
“It’s no moonshine,” Murphy said, his tone coloring with bitterness.
Raven hated that he was trying to make her feel bad again. She wouldn’t fall for his sob story about his parents. Her mother sold her own rations. They all had it rough. But Murphy’s dour expression was wiped clean as he took a drink for himself.
“Cracker?” Murphy asked.
“Got any real food?” Raven asked. "Or some water would be nice."
“Not in the mood for catching eels?” he asked. “You must have been pretty desperate to come here.”
“We’re all desperate, Murphy,” Raven said.
“You limped across the desert with a bad leg,” Murphy said. “That’s…”
“Admirable?” Raven tried.
“Stupid as hell,” Murphy replied.
“I thought Jaha was with you.”
“He’s not anymore.”
“You really are a people person, huh?” Raven asked.
“Look who’s talking,” Murphy said. “You’re right down here with me.”
Raven was tempted to look away, but she stared forcefully into his eyes
“You’re really alone here?” she asked. She would not feel sorry for him. She would not.
“All my life.”
She wanted to roll her eyes. She didn’t.
“Yeah,” Raven said. “Me too.”
She picked up a cracker from the plastic sleeve.
“Careful,” he said. “You eat that, there’s no going back.”
“I know,” Raven said.
The crumbs mixed with the sand in her teeth.
“Don’t forget this.”
Raven looked up to see a red desert flower in Murphy’s hand. She didn’t know what it meant, if he was offering it to her. She remembered those colors were the last thing she remembered before she passed out. He laid it down next to the crackers.
“Murphy,” Raven said, swallowing. “Why’d you save me?”
Murphy’s dark eyebrows raised. She knew what he was thinking. An echo of a past life. But she couldn’t stop herself.
“You didn’t make the boat ride and trek through the desert for no reason,” Raven said before he could give her a hard time.
“I thought we went over that,” Murphy said, trying his best to sound bored.
“You don’t want to die alone,” Raven said. “Right?”
His face was stone. “Right.”
“It doesn’t feel like we’re dying.”
“No,” Murphy agreed. “We just rule over the dead.”
He was getting weird and wise in his solitude. Raven wondered if that had anything to do with Jaha. But she wasn’t about to ask.
“So that’s it?” Raven asked.
Murphy swallowed again. “Does it matter?”
“Might as well have something to talk about if we’re going to be stuck with each other.”
“I know you might not believe this, but watching people die isn’t really a hobby of mine," Murphy said. "So yeah. I saw you were out there and didn’t want to watch you suffer. You want to go out there and try your luck? Be my guest.”
Raven bit into another cracker.
“You really don’t go out there?”
“Only when I have to,” Murphy said.
Raven stared at him. “You didn’t have to go out for me.”
“Yeah, Raven,” Murphy said begrudgingly. “I really did.”
Raven stood up on her bad leg. Murphy shrunk back into the chair as though preparing for her to attack. He would have deserved it. She had made several choices to get to this moment. She did what she had to do. And this was the moment where she had to choose whether she was going to co-exist with Murphy or not.
“This doesn’t fix it,” Raven said. “Just because you saved me from the desert doesn’t mean we're okay.”
“I never thought it was.”
“This isn’t some pay-back?” Raven asked.
“I can’t think of a good enough lie,” Murphy said. “I went into the desert because I wanted to. Believe it or don’t. Doesn’t matter to me."
“I guess we’re going to have to trust each other,” Raven said.
“Are we?”
“Look, I don’t like it any better than you do,” Raven said. “But it doesn’t look like we have much of a choice.”
“I never had a problem trusting you,” Murphy shrugged. “Just don’t try and slit my throat in my sleep.”
His easiness wafted off of him like this was all another day on earth. It was for them, but they seemed to be a bit below the earth now. Maybe that was better.
“I’ll try and resist the impulse.”
“That better not be sarcasm,” Murphy said. “Because if you don’t kill me, I will be coming for you.”
“Right back at you.” Raven extended her hand. “Deal?”
If Murphy could look relieved, she would think that maybe that’s what it would look like.
“What happens now?” Raven asked.
“We sleep,” Murphy said. “And we wait.”
Murphy’s eyes seemed to slide right through her, trained on the screen behind her.
“For what?” She couldn’t see what he was seeing. Something dark. Something that had made him recede into himself.
“The damned,” he said, walking into the other room.
There was a mattress but not much else. Raven felt her mask come on – the one full of skepticism and preparation for battle.
“Don’t expect me to do anything heroic.”
“No one would ever think that of you, Murphy,” Raven replied.
“Do I get answers now?”
“About what?”
“Camp Jaha,” Murphy said. “What happened?”
The answer was on her tongue before she even thought of it. “Hell.”
“It never stops,” he said. He watched her sit on the edge of the bed. “Do you need help with that?”
It was the first time he had really acknowledged her brace. She wasn’t even sure what he was talking about at first. She looked down at her lame leg.
Trust the guy who put a bullet in her. But she gave as good as she got. Even without a brace. But he was the one that didn’t want his throat cut. She would never think that Murphy would try to be a good guy.
Maybe he was just trying to be a Not Horrible Murphy. There was a distinction.
“I mean do you take it off?” Murphy backpedaled. She had never seen him so abashed before. Her disability made him uncomfortable.
Good.
“This you trying to help?” Raven asked.
His eyes hardened after that. But she couldn’t let this go so easy. If he was a glutton for punishment, then that’s what he would get.
“Hey, it’s the least you could do,” Raven said, stretching out her leg as much as she was able.
He looked hesitant.
“Unless you didn’t mean it,” Raven said.
Murphy knelt down on the ground on front of her. She felt herself tense. Her leg never really stopped being tense, despite its uselessness.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” Murphy said, his long pale fingers finding the straps on her leg.
“You could never hurt me,” Raven said defiantly.
He had no answer for that. He quietly inspected the brace. She didn’t think that he was actually from Mecha Station. She would have seen him there. But he seemed to figure out her leg somehow. He looped his fingers beneath the strap and if she didn’t know any better, she would have thought she felt her skin spark. But she had no feeling there. And that wasn’t real.
He was gentler than she would have assumed. At least it looked gentle. She was still getting used to not feeling anything in her leg. His brow was knit with concentration as though he really was afraid he would hurt her. Brutal maniac he may be, but John Murphy was not a master manipulator. After all, she had nothing that he wanted. Why would he be trying to play her?
Her mother’s voice rang in her mind. When she wasn’t drunk, she remembered Mother Superior reminding her that men only wanted one thing.
Murphy’s touch brought back a shrieking memory. Him rolling her on her side as she coughed violently. The only true tenderness she had seen from him. In the recesses of her mind, she thought she heard his voice.
Help her.
She shoved that away. That memory was full of blackness and rage. She didn’t want it to be better. She didn’t want him to make it better. But somehow, she was letting him touch her again. His hair was matted, his wounds had healed into facial scars and for a moment, that angelic look to the planes of his face softened.
Murphy finished with the last strap and she pushed him away. He dropped the brace his hands in a placating gesture, palms facing her. Raven leaned back on the bed, never taking her eyes from him. She pulled her hair from its ponytail, letting it form a comforting curtain around her.
“There was something I wanted to tell you before,” Raven said. Murphy rounded the mattress but didn’t sit. Getting through this night would be the hardest. Neither of them would sleep, wary of the other having a pointy weapon concealed in their sleeve.
But after, it would be okay. Maybe everything would be okay. After tonight. She knew his impulse. It was comforting down here. No grounder armies. No pale vampire people trying to steal their blood. No watching children die. She wanted that. She wanted it all to stop.
She had to say this one thing, though. She couldn’t let it go.
“You were lucky,” Raven said. “I never knew my father.”
Murphy’s face went slack. He was expecting something else. And somehow, what she was saying made him even sadder. She didn't care.
“You had a father that loved you,” Raven said. “He died for you. Even if you did have him for a short time, he still loved you. My mother couldn’t even give me that. So no, Murphy. I don’t feel sorry for you.”
“I never asked you to,” he said. His eyes had that glassy look they did when they were on the drop ship. She hated that so much. But she was starting to think that he was telling the truth. He wasn’t asking for her pity. Just understanding. Maybe she could get there. But not tonight.
“Good,” Raven said. She settled back, watching him warily.
“Great. Can I go to sleep now?”
“Be my guest.” Raven motioned to her side of the bed.
Murphy’s eyes narrowed at her. He thought she was testing him. But she wasn’t. He may be all fire and brimstone, but she was water. She was calm when it counted but a force when necessary. He would learn that if he tried anything.
“See you on the other side.” Murphy shrugged out of his sweatshirt. If he was trying to make her uncomfortable, it wasn’t working.
Despite his efforts, she didn’t miss the gasp as he pulled it over his head. He pulled down his shirt but she didn’t miss his black and blue ribs, decorated with deep claw marks.
“You’re hurt.” Was that concern? No. Not on his life.
That smug smile returned to his face. “All part of the job, sister.”
He sat on the makeshift bed next to her.
“I thought the coyotes were more afraid of you.”
“Some things aren’t,” he said.
“You’re the champion of the people now?” Raven asked.
“Not that it matters,” Murphy said. “But no. You still have no idea what I’ve done.”
“Bully for you.”
“We all have our journeys, right?" Murphy remarked. "I was made to carry the dead.” Like some hero of ancient times. She didn’t believe it for a second.
“You didn’t carry me.”
“You’re not dead.”
“Exactly,” Raven said. “So what am I?”
Murphy leaned back, wincing as he tried to get comfortable, away from his broken ribs.
“I didn’t kidnap you, Raven,” Murphy said. “You can fly away any time you please. I’m not forcing you into anything. You’re right. I don’t deserve pity. Bad things happen to everyone. I’m here for a reason. And I’m going to stay here and wait and see any of our people find their way like you did.”
It did sound like a job to him. He didn’t sound like the Murphy she had left.
“You’re a survivor,” Murphy continued. “And that’s worth a hell of a lot more.”
“And you’re not a survivor?” Raven asked. “If there’s one thing that’s certain, it’s that you’re one lucky son of a bitch.”
“All true,” Murphy said. “I'd tell that to my mother's face if I could.”
Raven didn’t want to smile. “I don’t want to be alone either,” she said.
Murphy crossed his arms over his chest and stared at the ceiling.
“Well I don’t need you.”
“I don’t need you.”
She heard the words come out of their mouths, but she couldn’t help the but feel like don’t floated on the air and disappeared like it was never there.
And neither of them heard it.
In the middle of the night, when her skin started to rise and she felt the true chill of all of her dead friends, she felt Murphy beside her. He was hot like hellfire and she was comforted and felt like it was the only time in her sorry life where she wouldn’t burn.