Page 26

Story: Pyre

“CAN A ZOMBIE breathe underwater?” Jonah asked from the passenger seat of the truck, breaking the comfortable hum of the highway beneath them.

The drive to Denver was long—almost twelve hours from Mrs. Ulerik’s house.

Kavya had chatted happily for the last half hour, thrilled to finally see her wife, while Jonah had complained almost as long about his house-sitter’s abysmal care of his prized bluebells and lavender and his parent’s request for him to join them for dinner.

Ruby didn’t have anything to look forward to.

No one waited for her back at the hotel.

Maybe she would binge a new show. Or read a book.

Ruby, sprawled out in the backseat, didn’t bother to look up from her phone. “No, I cannot breathe underwater,” she replied, her tone dry, eyes flicking up just enough to catch Jonah’s reflection in the rearview mirror.

“No, not you,” Jonah huffed, turning halfway in his seat to shoot her a look. “You’re not—” he caught himself, seeing the way her eyebrows rose. “Okay, so maybe you are, but I’m talking about fictional ones. You know, from the movies.”

“Like the ones who die with a headshot?” Kavya asked, one hand drumming against the wheel as if she were working out the logic.

“Exactly. Theoretically, they need their brain to live. Which means they need oxygen for the brain. No oxygen, no brain. No brain, dead.”

“Unless the brain’s fueled by something else,” Kavya mused.

Jonah shot her a curious glance. “Like what?”

“Phlogiston.” Kavya’s lips curled at the corners.

“That’s not how that works,” Jonah said, rolling his eyes. “Again, we’re talking blockbuster zombies here, not real life.”

Ruby tuned out their banter, flicking through TikTok. She stopped on a particularly satisfying cleaning video, watching a grime-coated driveway transform under the stream of a power washer. Her finger hovered over the screen. “Do I need a power washer?” she muttered absently.

“You live in a hotel,” Jonah reminded her without missing a beat, still locked in his debate with Kavya.

“Back to my question,” he insisted, unwilling to let it drop. Ruby barely listened, sliding into another video where someone used a power washer to restore an old, mossy stone patio. She could almost feel the sharp spray of water herself, the way it cut through the grime.

Kavya, however, wasn’t done with Ruby yet. “Hey, Rube, what was the training like for a thermophile at the TCA? Was it different from everyone else’s?”

Ruby hesitated, eyes still on her phone, but her focus had shifted. The videos suddenly weren’t enough to drown out the memory of those early days. Slowly, she glanced up. Both Kavya and Jonah were waiting for her to answer.

“Well,” she slipped her phone into her lap, “at first, they did some physical experimentation. Then it was mainly observation. They wanted to see how I’d react to being around people, watching recruits, that sort of thing.

” Ruby’s voice dropped a little, her tone turning distant.

“They were trying to…humanize me. Make me remember what I was supposed to be protecting.”

Jonah turned in his seat with a scowl. “What does physical experimentation mean?”

“They wanted to see the limitations of the healing. What all I could grow back, if I needed to be conscious, that kind of thing.”

Ruby’s hand gestured vaguely, trying to grasp the right words. “I was… I was in a bad place when they found me. It took them almost a year to track me down, and during that time, I couldn’t come to terms with what had happened. There was so much grief, and this overwhelming…otherness.”

The quiet in the truck deepened, the weight of her words hanging between them.

Ruby looked down at her hands. “The agency... they put me through every therapy you could think of. Physical, mental, emotional. And then there was combat, of course, but it was mostly about making me feel like a person again.”

Jonah looked out the window, silent. Kavya didn’t speak right away either, her hands tightening on the wheel.

“That sounds horrible,” Kavya finally said.

“Therapy?” Ruby tried to joke, but the words fell flat in the heavy air.

“No, not therapy. The idea of not feeling human. I think a lot of people have moments where they don’t feel like themselves.

But—” she hesitated, glancing at Ruby in the rearview mirror, “—but to actually not be yourself? To feel something inside you controlling you like that? I’m sorry, Ruby. That… really sucks.”

Jonah’s gaze flickered toward Ruby, a sad smile tugging at his lips. He didn’t say anything, just offered her a silent, understanding look. Ruby wasn’t used to that—people seeing her as more than a thermophile, no more than a tool to be used.

The weight of her story hung in the air for a few more beats, the road stretching endlessly ahead of them. Then, suddenly, Kavya slapped her hands on the steering wheel, making both Jonah and Ruby jump.

“You know what kind of therapy always makes me feel better?” Kavya grinned, flicking the blinker and shifting lanes as they veered toward the next exit.

Ruby blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in energy. “What?”

“Retail therapy,” Kavya declared with a dramatic flourish.

THE MALL WAS a living, breathing relic of a bygone era, much like Ruby herself.

Wandering the maze of stores didn’t stir nostalgia in her; malls hadn't reached their peak popularity until after she had become a thermophile, and by then, she'd been far removed from the world. Still, she could see the appeal.

The polished tiles gleamed under the soft glow of fluorescent lights, catching the late afternoon sunlight spilling in through the vast skylights above.

Faint echoes of distant footsteps and laughter carried through the air, mingling with the murmur of background music—old, familiar pop songs that tugged at long forgotten memories.

The scent of freshly baked pretzels, warm cinnamon, and the unmistakable sweetness of a food court hit the senses all at once, creating a comforting aroma that whispered of simpler times.

Kiosks lined the walkways, their brightly colored displays beckoning with the promise of novelty—phone cases, handmade jewelry, trinkets you didn’t know you needed until they caught your eye.

The hum of commerce was steady yet soothing, like the pulse of the place itself.

Ruby typically shopped second hand. It was her small way of trying to balance the scales, a quiet attempt to mitigate the impact her eternity might have on the Earth.

Still, she hadn’t had the heart to mention it to Kavya, allowing herself to be swept along as her coworker (friend, maybe?

She wasn't really sure where they stood) pulled her from store to store, handing over her TCA-sponsored black card for each purchase.

They wandered into a cosmetic store, the air thick with the scent of perfume and freshly opened makeup palettes.

Jonah held up a deep purple lipstick and wiggled his eyebrows at Ruby.

She offered him a faint smile but drifted toward the skincare aisle.

She stared at the rows of serums, creams, and masks, a strange sadness creeping in.

In her day, it was all cold cream and sleeping in hair rollers.

Some things hadn’t changed. Women still wrapped their hair in socks and pink felt tubes, slathered on creams and salves before bed, and prayed to wake up looking fresh.

Ruby remembered the explosion of anti-aging products when she was around twenty—back when she still thought aging was inevitable.

She had been so young, still figuring out the world, unsure of her place in it.

Now, teenagers online slathered on the same products, desperate to stave off the natural changes in their skin before they had even started.

It made her sad. She remembered being terrified of aging, thinking twenty-five was old, then pushing that fear to thirty, until she finally grew into herself.

The irony gnawed at her—so many people wanting to undo the signs of aging, while she would have given anything to experience it.

To grow old, especially alongside friends and family, was a privilege most people took for granted.

If a few wrinkles or silver strands were the cost, who was she to complain?

Jesus, she needed to kick down another fence or something. One day on her mandatory break and she was already waxing poetics about aging and complaining about not feeling human enough. She needed to get a grip.

By the time Kavya’s energy finally waned, they had accumulated nine bags—each evenly distributed among Kavya, Ruby, and even Jonah.

He had been a surprisingly good sport, offering compliments while Ruby and Kavya tried on clothes, even volunteering to grab drinks whenever they needed a break.

Ruby had politely declined, a silent reminder to him about why she didn’t eat or drink in public.

Jonah had winced at his mistake before leaving the girls chatting in the food court.

"Hi, Beautiful." The man reeked of alcohol, his shirt half-buttoned, eyes glazed. He was speaking to Kavya, completely ignoring Ruby as he leaned in, placing his hands on their table. "What would it take for me to get your number?"

Kavya didn’t miss a beat. She flashed her left hand, the ring glinting under the food court lights. "I'm married," she said, turning back to Ruby.

Undeterred, he grabbed her hand, his grip tightening around her fingers. "I don't see why that’s a problem. I don’t see him around."

“She," Kavya corrected, yanking her hand back, "could kick your ass."

The man’s smirk deepened, ignoring her words. In one swift motion, he snatched her wrist and jerked her to her feet. Kavya winced in pain, struggling as he tried to drag her away.

“Walk away.” Ruby stood, shoving herself between them. She was taller than him, even in her flats.

He glanced at her dismissively, puffing up his chest. He went to raise his hand, aiming a slap at Ruby, but before he could land the blow, Jonah appeared, catching his wrist mid-air. In one smooth move, Jonah twisted the guy’s arm behind his back, forcing him to the ground with a grunt.

“Oh look," the guy sneered from the floor, "the bitches’ handler is here."

Ruby tapped Jonah on the shoulder, her expression calm but deadly. She gestured for him to step aside with a tilt of her head. Jonah, eyes locked on the man, reluctantly let go, stepping back.

Ruby didn’t hesitate. She pressed her heel into the man's crotch, applying enough pressure to make him yelp. His body twisted, trying to escape, but she pushed harder, her weight pinning him down.

“Do you know what a testicular torsion is?” she asked, her voice conversational as if they were discussing the weather.

The man slapped desperately at her ankle, his face pale.

“It’s when your testicles twist, cutting off circulation,” Ruby continued, twisting her heel slightly. "And if it doesn’t untwist in a few hours, they’ll have to be cut off.”

She lifted her foot, and the man gasped in relief, curling into himself. "Now apologize to the lady," she said coldly.

He turned to Kavya, blinking back tears “I-I’m sorry.”

Ruby loomed over him once more, raising an eyebrow. "For...?"

“For saying shit to you, for touching you, for— I don’t know—being born? Whatever else you want me to apologize for. Can I go now? Please?”

Ruby glanced at Kavya, giving her a silent question. Kavya picked up her lemonade and, with a smirk, dumped it over his head.

Jonah’s shoulders shook beside her. Ruby thought, for a second, that he was trembling in anger, but when she turned, he was doubled over laughing.

“Testicular torsion? Where did you learn that?” he asked, still catching his breath.

“TikTok," Ruby said with a straight face.

“What happened to your cleaning videos?”

Ruby sighed, genuinely exasperated. "I still get them about 50% of the time. The other 50% are Grey’s Anatomy clips.”

Jonah chuckled. “You watch Grey’s?”

“Not a single episode.” Ruby shook her head. “Watched a video about two people who were impaled together and only one got to live. Sobbed. It played like four times while I cried into a pillow. Now it’s all hospital drama clips.”

As they stepped out of the mall, the late afternoon sun painted the parking lot in soft golden hues. Ruby ducked into a quiet alleyway beside the mall, slipping one of her herbal rolls from her designer bag.

With the cigarette between her lips, she flicked the lighter, once, twice. Nothing. She frowned, shaking it, feeling the emptiness of the fluid inside.

“Damn it,” she muttered under her breath, frustration bubbling up.

A soft shuffle behind her made her turn. Jonah had followed, standing a few feet away, his expression unreadable but calm.

“Need a light?” he asked.

Ruby raised an eyebrow, surprised. “You don’t smoke.”

“I don’t. But I know you do.” He stepped closer, pulling a lighter from his pocket, offering it to her without another word.

Ruby stared at the lighter for a moment, then took it, her cheeks heating.

She lit her cigarette, taking a long drag of the resulting phlogiston before handing the lighter back.

“Thanks,” she said, quieter now, the edge of her earlier irritation fading as the green substance curled into the air.

Jonah slipped the lighter back into his pocket but stayed close, leaning against the brick wall beside her. They stood in silence for a few moments, the sound of distant cars and the faint hum of the mall fading into the background.

“You okay?” Jonah asked after a beat, his eyes not on her but on the sky, where the clouds were beginning to take on a soft pink hue.

She looked away for a second. “Sometimes it feels like no matter what I do, I’ll always be... apart. Separate. It’s like I’m stuck in this endless in-between.”

Jonah straightened up, shifting a little closer. “You’re not as separate as you think. And you don’t have to go through it alone. That’s what friends are for, right? To help shoulder some of that.”

Ruby took a long pull from her cigarette, her thoughts running in tandem with the quiet rhythm of their conversation. She didn’t look at him, but the corner of her mouth twitched in the ghost of a smile. “Didn’t know you were such a philosopher.”

He chuckled softly, the sound rich and comforting. “I’ve got layers, Ruby. You’d be surprised.”

She shot him a sidelong glance, exhaling a soft stream of smoke. “Maybe I would be.”

The silence that followed wasn’t heavy or awkward. It was easy, comfortable in a way that Ruby didn’t often allow herself to feel. She flicked the ash from her cigarette, watching it fall to the ground, and for the first time in a while, she didn’t feel like she had to rush away from the moment.