P.T.S.D.

"I know I ask you about it a lot, you don't have to answer if you don't want to." 

Mayumi stated, as the two of them walked down the seemingly endless trail of broken asphalt concrete, which was littered with too much devastation for it to be functional anymore.

The abandoned vehicles that littered this old highway painted a frantic and hopeless crime scene all the way forward and all the way back from where they found one another. It didn't seem like there was any trace of mercy cast upon this world, besides the company that these two offered one another.

"It's alright," sighed Gunnar, "it makes me wonder, too."

A prominent scar covered a good deal of real estate over the left side of his face, the pupil was foggy white and blurred the naturally blue hue of the iris. He could only assume the heat and radiation was to blame, which would be an easy enough explanation on its own. It still stung to the touch, although it was no longer unbearingly painful on its own.

But that wasn't what she asked him about.

"I remember dying. Or, at least, I remember what happened just before the light and the heat was too much to take. I uh, I don't remember what happened between then and before I woke up."

Mayumi nodded as she looked straight ahead of them, walking side by side with the taller military man. A short far eastern girl she was, dressed in her leather armor and ragged clothing that was worn yet durable. She was puzzled by his response, but then shifted to the topic she meant to bring up to begin with.

"I remember you once said that it felt like a different thing you went through back when you were still in the Marines."

Gunnar lowered his gaze and kept it glued to his feet and the ground immediately in front of him as they tread forward.

"Yeah. That one was less dramatic at the moment. I still dream about it sometimes, but I really don't know why."

"What are those dreams like?"

"They uh, well, it's like I'm back in active duty. At first, it was all related to the trauma itself, but then, it became more, I dunno, personal."

"Personal?"

"Yeah, I'd say that's the right word. It was like I was back on limited duty, being mocked and ridiculed by everyone who called me weak, or a faker. It's like, I was caught in the perpetual fear that made me realize why I was so quick to get out after that last straw."

Mayumi looked up at his scar, fixated on it while she spoke.

"That's strange. I don't know how you fake a heat stroke."

Gunnar shook his head.

"No, it's what happened after that. During my recovery from that, and rhabdomyolysis, people thought I was just being a skater, trying to actively avoid getting better on purpose."

"Well, were you?"

He looked down at her, meeting his glare with her gaze wearing a stern face, but then he closed his eyes and exhaled before he simply shook his head, eyes now locked to the horizon.

"Sometimes I wonder."

Mayumi knew this was a troubling subject for the broken Marine, but her natural empathy and curiosity got the better of her.

"I mean, you said your core temperature was 107.8, which is like, well, you're lucky you didn't die from that."

"So I've been told."

"I'm just saying, it isn't like you didn't go through significant trauma."

"Compared to what those real Marines went through, I didn't go through shit. After the nukes, it only proved me right to respect them."

"Oh, don't talk like that. You pushed yourself as hard as you ever did that day, and they ended up fucking you over for it. What does that say about them?"

"I don't blame anyone for thinking that way about me. Like, I get it. It's the mentality needed to ensure that whoever we go through live combat with is someone we can trust with our lives. I wasn't up to par, and I hate myself for it."

Mayumi just shook her head in annoyance. Not at him, but for the situation that haunted him.

"Don't hate yourself, Gunnar. You almost died during that hike. Just because you didn't meet the infantry's expectations doesn't mean you're any less human than any of us. If anything, it makes you more human. In my opinion, at least."

"I dunno. It was blow after blow. The harder I tried, the more fucked up I ended up. Life has really been testing my endurance."

"You know, it's funny. You seem more traumatized from that heat stroke than from the nuclear bomb."

Gunnar formed a small smile, realizing the humor in that.

"Yeah, funny how shit like that works, huh? Just makes me wonder why I was brought back to begin with, let alone in my old boots and utes. Is it a calling? A second chance? Is the universe having fun at my expense?"

Mayumi had an idea flash in her mind regarding an answer to the rhetorical questions, but couldn't seem to put them into words. She just smiled as they approached an exit sign that read, 'I-90 East'. The rest of the words were scuffed out, though they both knew where they were heading.

"You know, Mayumi? I'm glad you survived this shit storm. You uh, you're stronger than I am. If it wasn't for this unrealistic situation life offered me, well, I'd probably be dead and gone like the rest of these lucky folk."

She looked up at him but immediately snapped back to the exit ramp after noticing her embarrassment.

"You're strong too, Gunnar. You just refuse to realize it."

He let out a single huff, which made his smile prolong. 

"Yeah. Guess I'm just trying to make sense of it all first. Put it all into perspective, y'know?"

There was an awkward moment of silence as they patrolled forward into the devastation together. Gunnar, headstrong yet ignorant, has been through hell and back simply to earn the title 'Marine'. Anything that came after that, well, he didn't care. Not then, not now. All he had was sentimental attachment and demons to slay in his mind.

Mayumi, in all of her care and secrecy, was a comforting enigma to him, one that offered more hope than he would've ever gathered on his own. He felt like he had more than he ever deserved, from her to his newfound and mysterious second chance at life. Due to his incapacity to do anything against it, like always, he just took the perks as they came with newfound humility and purpose.

"I just wonder," Gunnar said, "when we get there, what're we expecting to find? Do we have a uh, contingency plan?"

"I just need my own closure. After that, it'll be your turn to plan our next move."

"Heh, alright man. I gotcha."

He pondered for a moment, wondering if anyone he knew in the service was still alive, or anyone from any service for that matter, trying to broaden his expectations.

"I'd say, we find a holdout, or a group of some kind that aren't immediately hostile. Maybe we can keep ourselves busy until I figure something better to do with our lives."

She nodded in agreement, knowing that it  was a better plan than nothing. Though, she wasn't yet ready to face other survivors that she didn't know. Her past experience with others demanded her skepticism of their humanity. If, by chance, her family or friends were still alive, perhaps they could make their own group. She wasn't really the social butterfly, despite her caring nature. This guy, who was so quick to help her in her own personal endeavors, made her feel a tad guilty.

She'd have turned him away if she knew she could make the journey alone, but honestly, at this point, she was glad she didn't do so. Gunnar is tortured yet kind, rugged yet useful. She felt guilty thinking the word 'useful', but she knew what she meant. It was merely an essential perk he offered without trying, and that comforted her well enough on its own.

"Gunnar, you said you've got no one left back home, right? No immediate family?"

"Nope. It's why I question why I'm still alive, since they were in the house when the nukes went off. I was in the front yard."

"Hm. Do you have family anywhere nearby?"

"Nope. Well, Maine. And Minnesota. My uncle may be alive in Colorado, too. But uh, we'd need to find a vehicle if we're gonna go outside New England. I ain't walking cross country unless we can't find anything better to do here first."

He pondered on that thought as he said it. Seeing this highway being littered with damnation and obstacles, it may prove difficult to do so.

"I don't mind. You've helped me this far, I'm not against helping you do what you're doing for me. Especially if they're uh, gone."

"One thing atta time, Mayumi. I'll let you know if I feel it is worth the effort. For now, let's just focus on you."

She smiled bashfully.

"You know, for what it's worth, I think you're a better man than those Marines gave you credit for."

He wanted to elaborate on the men and women he served with, but after processing the annoyance that he came up with, he kept himself from rambling again.

"Thank you, Mayumi."

"Just May is fine. Or Yumi. I've been called both."

"Ahaha. May. That's my birth month."

They followed the turnpike for about 6 miles before the sun began to set. So, they decided to take a rest and settle in for the night. Heading to the right side and finding softer ground, they would lay out their respective sleeping bags and gear and set up a campfire between the road and the treeline, to the right side of a van that had conveniently swerved off the road.

The both of them worked in tandem to collect dry wood, sticks, and rocks and chunks of the broken asphalt concrete, and assemble the fireplace with little effort. The two didn't seem concerned with attracting attention, for Gunnar had his M16, and Mayumi had her crossbow and arrows constantly on standby.

After settling down and lighting the fire with Mayumis' trusty lighter, they would sit next to one another and exhale simultaneously to commemorate their weariness that the day offered them. By the time they finished, night had fallen with a cool, soothing breeze.

They stared into the crackling tool of mankind they constructed and fed off the fuel provided, as its tantalizing nature appeared to hypnotize them as their muscles settled and ached, almost to the point of numbing with vibration.

After a good nine minutes, she broke the silence to take out a snack; some dried fruit slices and a half full bottle of water. She took a couple bites of her saving grace food before she looked up at the Marine and offered some for him to take.

"Want some?"

His attention seemed to snap to attention before he shook it off and looked at her, then the food in her hand.

"Hm? Oh, nah. I'm good. I ain't hungry, thanks though."

She seemed persistent, stubborn even, as she shook the bag next to his face and demanded he take at least one piece.

"Oh, just take one. I've got plenty in my bag and we're gonna need the energy for tomorrow."

He scoffed.

"Take. One."

He leered at her before he grinned and reluctantly took a surprisingly hefty apple slice from the bag. He took a bite with an unphased expression, leaning his back against the side of the van.

"Why so grumpy?" She asked, with a hint of empathy.

He took a deep breath and took another bite from the slice before he spoke.

"Sorry. It ain't you, I promise. Just tired. Tired and sore."

"You sure that's all it is?"

"What else would it be?"

"I don't know. What's on your mind?"

"Same old shit, Yumi. Too much shit to spew out in one night, feel me?"

"You're agitated, Gunnar. We're supposed to be relaxing right now, and if you go to sleep like this, you'll wake up feeling like shit."

"I mean, it's not like I ain't used to it by now."

She took a bite of her slice of apple and gestured for him to do the same. He did.

"It's been a rough few weeks."

He spoke while chewing. "I know by now what you're trying to get at."

"Well, if it's that obvious, you might as well humor me."

"For who's sake? Not like there's anything I haven't told you by now. What's the point of revisiting it?"

"Because it bothers you, Gunnar. You won't be on your A Game if you keep letting it do this to you."

He wanted to argue or deflect the situation, but caught himself before he said something stupid. He was pretty good at that for some reason, which is apparently considered a lost art. He just exhaled slowly and nodded his head before taking another bite of dry apple.

"Yeah. I'd be a liar if I tried to deny it. It really has been tough, but I've only recently begun to see the situation at face value. Or rather, I dunno, actually be aware of it. And even then, I feel like it's only in my peripherals."

She was as patient as a saint, and truth be told, she knew that he was only able to be aware of it because of her. She knew how hard it is to tackle it on your own firsthand, as most tend to do. It feels like its invisible, and attacks from any angle at random; both when there's an initiating trigger or even when you're alone with your own thoughts. Things can spiral inward perpetually, without warning.

You tend to be back in the scene of when it happened, your heart races and you're at the mercy of your overestimated mind. For her, she had the luxury of finding professional help before the bombs dropped, and went through cognitive behavioral therapy over the course of her young adult life. In a way, she was her own savior simply by taking the initiative alone, and knew that anyone could reach a healthy level of self awareness if they would only accept that they need help.

She patiently laid a hand on his stiff shoulder, staring intently at the fire before them as she spoke with the utmost empathy.

"How often do you think about how you feel when it gets bad?"

He shrugged.

"Not often. I get caught up with the feelings that the memories and nightmares make me endure whenever it gets absurd."

"What tends to trigger your anxiety from an external source?"

"Reminders of it, mainly. Like, like I've said before, it wasn't the heat stroke itself that causes the uh, symptoms. I mean, it caused it, but it was really what happened between when I passed out in the parking lot in the B.A.S. and woke up in the medical room. I've tried explaining it before, and I have to not just you, but countless therapists."

"I remember, but try doing it again. Trust me, it'll only help you."

He was staring at the night sky, taking in the light of the full moon and the prominently illuminating stars that decorated the otherwise black canvas the sky provided. He took the last bite of his apple slice before he sighed and brought himself back to the past once again, this time voluntarily.

"Well, shit. How to explain it better? It felt like I was in purgatory. I couldn't move, and I couldn't remember how I ended up there, but it felt like I was there for an eternity. No beginning to remember, no future to anticipate. Just, numb uncertainty and the most basic of awareness. I couldn't recognize anyone who was working on me, even the corpsman who I knew since I hit the fleet. I stared into his eyes, and he stared back, scared as all hell, the both of us. I couldn't recognize who he was. I felt like I should, but when I tried to, I just felt dread instead.

"It felt like hell after a while. I was getting jabbed with needles, I was stripped to the skivvies, ice packs all over, a big metal fan blowing on me, a cold wet towel covering my torso. I was even getting flipped over every five minutes to have my temperature taken, which at the time felt like torture at random intervals. Time was nonexistent. I couldn't react more than by saying, 'I'm dying' over and over, though I do remember them vaguely saying that I wasn't.

"At the time, I didn't have any concept of what or who I was. Memory was gone, nonexistent as well. It took time to remember the face of my mother, to which image I didn't recognize as anything more than someone of significance, before I recalled the word 'mom'. Then, an image of a brain came to mind, and I thus assumed the image of one. As I spoke randomly, I eventually felt my tongue, and then felt my teeth with them. An image came back to me, of what all of these body parts were as names, or labels, slowly snapped into my 'brain'. One after the next, one by one, I fleshed out my body in its entirety. How long did it take? Well, like I said, it felt like forever at this point.

"After some time, I had a conversation with Brotherton, the corpsman that saved my life that day. As we went over the context as to how I ended up there, which after some time prior I learned was a hospital-esque room, I seemed to only have a vague, half assed false memory that came from a complete lack of context. It wasn't until I was moved to the Naval Hospital that my memory was beginning to come back to me. I felt a sense of time and self to a considerable degree by then.

"There, I was told I had rhabdomyolysis, a condition that basically means that my muscle tissue was torn to shit and was releasing a dangerous protein into my kidneys. So, I was there for about three days or so while they kept me hydrated and flushed my system. Piss was brown, they wanted it clear. Needless to say, my memory wasn't quite the same since, for I remember getting visited by other Marines in my peergroup at the hospital, as well as team leaders and even our fucking Sergeant Major of the Marine Corps came in his civvies to see how I was doing. We talked like professionals, and humans even. With his wise words, I fully anticipated being back on full duty as soon as possible. The rest, well, it's a whole different saga of bullshit."

Mayumi took in every word, and compared it to the same story he told her weeks ago. It was almost verbatim. He talks of his memory being fucked, but as far as the trauma was concerned, it was a staple in his mind. Such is the nature of trauma of this magnitude, that much she knew. It just surprised her how spot on it was compared to anything else he's ever recollected.

Gunnar let the silence waft over him, and after awhile Mayumi gently rested her head on his shoulder, which snapped his attention back to the present. He didn't resist. He just rested his head on hers, feeling much better than he did prior to explaining his sob story. He felt lighter, calmer.

"I'm gonna ask you about it when we get to Boston, Gunnar. Is that okay with you?"

He smiled, his breathing slower, she could feel its rhythm. She shifted closer and just felt warmer, as he did as well. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath while the two sat leaned against the side of the van.

Gunnar smiled as he noticed the fire begin to diminish in its height and potency, its heat replaced by their contact.

"Absolutely. If it helps me, then all I can do is adapt and overcome what these talks have to offer."

"Just know, you'll never get over it completely. You'll just be able to manage it better."

"Ah, that's fine. Maybe it'll make me more self aware in the future."

The two let the fire go out on its own before they were both asleep, neither one wanting to disturb the other. So, this is how they'd sleep for the night; leaned up against one another, head resting on head, the future an enigma of uncertainty.

Gunnar was used to approaching life now with such expectations, and thus had no fear for whatever this new gift of life had to offer him.

He was looking forward to reaching Boston, now more than ever.