Sak · Maps

Escape 01:10 Nightfall:Entrant

02.08.09 18:52
Section: Maps
Filed Under: Copyright - CC, Series

Reaching up and grabbing a small, green rope I tugged down the garage door as I listened to a series of pops and whispered gargling noises coming from the raiment behind me. Three or four of those enormous bugs that I had seen in the apartment flew in under the door as I brought it down. They circled around the garage, then landed on the shoulders of the raiment, folded themselves up into smaller units, and disappeared in to little compartments. After another pop, the chest plating on the raiment lifted up, opening from somewhere near the crotch, and stopped at about a hundred and ten degrees when the tip of the crotch hit the ceiling of the garage. The entire front of the raiment then fell forward, revealing the top of Samara’s head, her shoulders and back, and a cable that trailed out from her upper back into the back of the raiment. She straddled the raiment, as though she were on horseback and hugging the neck, though her arms were actually tucked down inside the little arms that had fallen forward with the front of the raiment. She lifted herself out of those arms and sitting up against the back of the raiment, still straddling it, her thighs disappearing into the legs of the raiment, she reached back and unplugged the cable from her upper back. She then grabbed two handles near her hips, tapped some buttons, and another popping noise followed. The legs of the raiment expanded outward at the thigh and calf plating, and she lifted her self out of the machine and stepped onto the floor of the garage.

Now, I’ve looked upon many women—it’s something of a habit of mine—and without ever having any direct interaction with them they tend to evoke various sensations in me. At times I’ve felt deep, sincere gratitude that I was able to witness something so beautiful, so graceful or powerful; while at other times I’ve felt longing and loss over my acute awareness of the solitude that my life seems to constantly manifest. Still, at other times there have been strong feelings of companionship, with my intuiting a sense friendship and lasting camaraderie; and also times when I’ve been unable to pass within ten feet of a particular woman without that burning arousal that makes me walk funny. Samara was at once all of these, and somehow something else.

I watched as she removed the small helmet and placed it on the “seat” of the raiment. Her ebony hair tumbled out, and bangs fell down around her face creating a circular frame. She wore a sort of deep blue body suit that seemed to be designed for use within the raiment. There was obvious padding in the arms, shoulders, thighs, and shins. As she went through a little stretching routine, I paced around nervously trying, and failing miserably, to keep from gawking like a fourteen year old. She finally approached me and held out her hand, “I’m Samara, it’s nice to finally meet you.”

When I reached for her hand a sensation struck me that seemed akin to trying to force the polar opposites of two magnets into one another, and then they flip around suddenly and connect. Her eyes went wide for a second as I took her hand, then ease settled in and I couldn’t help but smile. Getting a closer look with help from the last bits of dusk shooting in through the little windows, I saw that her body suit was shot through with a marble texture that seemed to shimmer slightly as she moved. She turned my hand in hers, looking down at the blood on my forearm, “Here, let’s take care of those cuts,” she said, and she walked away toward the back of the raiment, my eyes traveling up and down her body. While she rustled around behind the raiment, I noticed a faint, blue light coming from inside of the machine that had begun to cast a subtle glow about the garage as the light from outside continued to diminish.

“Here,” she said, poking her head from around the raiment, and I looked up in time to catch a tube that she had sent flying across the garage toward me. “Some antibiotic ointment.”

“Thanks,” I said.

She emerged from behind the raiment with two of the larger sealed packets from the supply unit tucked under her arms. I had stepped forward and was looking at the inside of the raiment, it’s glowing interior was coming from a sort of screen system in the now horizontal chest compartment. None of the lights made out any sensible figures or shapes. Then I noticed the helmet contained a lens that went over the upper part of the face and eyes, which I assumed would interpret the lights from the display into some sort of virtual interface. The inside of the suit was padded significantly, looking as though someone took apart a booth from a chain restaurant and lined the legs, arms, and chest area with its seating. Samara then walked up next to me, looked over at me, smiled a little, and said, “Go over and see if we can open that door into the house, and I’ll turn this thing off.”

I walked across the garage and as I rested my hand on the door, she said, “Hey, I just noticed…Where’s your sniper rifle?”

“Oh, I had to leave it. I just bolted without packing it back up. I thought it would be quicker to get away if I didn’t have to lug it. I guess if I ever see my roommate again I’ll have to apologize for losing his rifle.”

“Thanks for what you did back there,” she said, and I turned to see her gazing at me, the light of the raiment glowed on her torso and face.

“Yeah, no problem,” I said. “I’m glad it worked out.”

At that she flipped a switch inside the raiment, extinguishing its light, and the garage fell into blackness. I turned the knob and opened the door into a kitchen. The kitchen led to another large room, which was still filled with furniture that the owners apparently couldn’t take with them during the evacuation. Offset from the kitchen, just beyond a bar, was a dining room, a hallway to other parts of the lower house, and stairs. Before we had even left the kitchen, I un-holstered one of the pistols and handed it over to Samara, then stalked the rest of the house with the assault rifle at my shoulder until I was sure there were no other squatters taking refuge. The house was enormous, and after winding my way around it for a while I finally made my way back down to the main living room where Samara sat cross-legged on a sofa, and was tearing open one of the sealed packages.

“All clear?” she said, tossing me the other package.

“Yeah.”

I tore open the prepackaged meal, and was immediately reminded of my military days; oddly, with a sense of fondness. You never got to choose what meal you’d get, so it was always a little surprise; a present after some exhausting day of training. Even though it was precooked, unheated slop, it was the best thing you’d ever eaten. The package was very much like an MRE, too, where several smaller, vacuum sealed packets were crammed inside. I dumped out the contents onto the floor as I plopped down in front of the sofa Samara was sitting on. Her meal was already out in front of her, and she was munching on some sort of cracker looking thing. Better that I had my back to her while I ate anyway, so that I wouldn’t gawk nervously and drool food into my lap. I squeezed a hardened egg concoction out of a package, shoving it up from the bottom and biting off the exposed ends until it was gone. In my current state, it took a matter of a couple minutes to suck down the food, but I always ate fast anyway. Samara was still scooping out sporkfulls of something into her mouth when I stuffed my empty plastic casings back into the bag and got up to walk off the meal. I needed some alone time anyway, a little space to try and come down from the day I’d just experienced.

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This is a work of fiction. None of the characters are real, including myself. Any similarities between what is depicted in the story and what exists in the real world are intentional coincidences.