Genesis chap 1 and 2

Sixteenth birthdays are cursed.

I've read enough of those old paperbacks to know so. I wonder what's so special about the number sixteen, since nearly every single book I've read starts or ends with some kid on their sixteenth birthday, be it sci-fi, fantasy, or slice-of-life. They hit sixteen and suddenly every single special thing in the world decide to congregate right in the protagonist's path, smacking them in the face one-by-one like some sort of tennis ball machine.

So what about sixteenth birthdays? Well, it just so happened that mine was a week ago. I've been pretty paranoid since, always looking out for something to happen. Like a vat of toxic sludge fallling on me giving me the ability to stop time. Or The Tree having some prophecy about me scrawled all over the walls or hidden in some code. Or some other scavenger dropping to his knees and confessing his love to me.

None of that's happened yet, and thank god for that. Lots of people my age are daydreamers thinking they have the power to change the world and lead that dumbass rebellion to victory, smashing down the walls and reclaiming The Tree for the Outer City. And because of that, they always get involved in other people's business and risk their lives. In the end, they all die as they lived—stupid and reckless.

Me, I've got my niche, my routine. And speaking of my routine, I should probably get up now.

I open my eyes and look around the room. Stained, cracked grey walls and an empty mattress next to me. Looks like she's already up. Typical. I sat up and stretched a bit. Mattress or not, sleeping on the floor does a number on your back. The mattress springs creaked loudly, giving away my status. A voice called from the kitchen. "Finally up, Genesis?"

Cherie. My only friend and a total pain in the ass. But what best friends aren't? I said, "What do you mean 'Finally up'? I always get up five minutes after the morning bell." I rolled my eyes, as if she could see me doing it.

She sighed. "Quit rolling your eyes and get over here, Gen." Oh. Nevermind then.

I got up and out. Cherie called, "And don't forget to make your bed!"

"Ha-ha. Funny."

I headed for the door, but I couldn't help stopping in front of our old rusted mirror, fearing some fairy visited me while I was asleep and granted me some beauty gift. I studied myself. Unkempt long brown hair, worn dark chocolate skin and tired face. Faded hoodie and jeans hanging on a skinny body. Same as usual. Thank god for that. I would've passed out, then never go out of the house again and starve to death if it happened.

I walked down the wooden stairs carefully. Once, Cherie stepped on a termite-bitten step and she slid and fell all the way to the bottom. After laughing my ass off, I set out to find good enough material to repair the step, but the best I found in the dumps were old cardboard boxes. "I hope some Outer City snob tosses away a perfectly good bundle of wood soon," I said.

I reached the bottom unharmed and headed for the kitchen. Drab and rundown as always too. Cherie stood there, checking up an old medical kit on the cracked granite counter. She was looking same as usual too, but inifinitely better than I did. Messy short dark brown hair, milk chocolate skin, and the same clothes as I wore fitted on her slightly chubby body. Alert eyes and a wide smile on her face. I'd say the beauty fairy visited her last night instead if she didn't look like this all the time.

She noticed me staring and asked, "Something up?"

I shrugged. "Just wondering how you do it every day."

Cherie checked a near-empty box of adhesive bandages. "Do what?"

"The whole thing where you work as a medic every day but still look fresh and peppy. What's your secret?"

"Breakfast, exercise and optimism. Y'know, stuff you don't do."

"I bathe. Does that help?" I grabbed my haul sack. "Don't make any breakfast for me. I'm heading out."

"As usual." Cherie frowned and put her hands on her hips like a judgmental mother. "Can't you just eat two meals a day like normal people do instead of just one snack like a crazy person?"

"There're hardly any scavengers around in the morning, which means I get an advantage by getting to the good stuff before anyone else does."

Cherie smiled. "Why're you smiling?" I asked.

"Oh, it's just the word scavengers. It's a cool word and all but you know you guys are just trash looters, right?"

I scowled. "Is that what 'The Flare' calls us?"

Cherie closed the med kit. "Are you still on about the resistance?"

"Yeah I'm on. 'Cause it's a stupid idea." I shouldered the haul sack. "I can't believe you ever joined them. You know that every resistance failed and every one of them died out, right?"

Cherie closed her eyes and sighed. "Gen, I'm not just going to sit by and watch all of us suffer. I'm one of the only medics left in this town, and I'm not going to waste my skills by never using them." She looked at me. "I don't want what your parents did to go to waste."

I looked down. Dammit, she caught me there. "But my parents stuck to being the town doctors. They didn't join any rebel groups because they were smart enough to know they'd fail."

Cherie sighed. "You're hopeless, Gen." She smiled. "But don't worry too much. They're keeping me out of the battlefield. I'm just going to stay at the base and treat people in the medical tent."

"That's good to hear, I guess." I shifted. "Maybe you should go live at the base instead. We wouldn't have this argument every day if you did."

We stood in silence. I was ready to leave but Cherie came up to me and gave me a hug, I made no motion to hug her back. "I can't do that. You're practically family. And if I left, who'd be here to stick with you?"

"The TV?"

She giggled. "Oh, c'mon."

We stood for a while til I said, "Alright, that's enough. Getting real sappy in here. Get off."

Cherie laughed as she let go. Then she looked sympathetic. "Is it one of those days?"

I nodded. "It's one of those days."

"Man, I hate those days."

"I do too." I looked at the clock. "Crap, it's seven-thirty!" I ran for the door. "See ya!"

"Bye!"

CHAP 2

This place never changes.

I don't know what this country used to be called, but the only name I've ever known for it is Eden. Backstory is: world war fallout some 70 years ago wrecked nearly every single country. The ones that managed to survive were basically paradises, thus the name. An old temple tower was upgraded to serve as the supply distributor to every region of the land, and we call it The Tree.

Some government stuff happened and suddenly the country was divided into two: the Inner City for the government, the rich, and the lucky guys who were in favor of the first two. The Outer City had the poor, middle-class, and poor saps who offended the Inner City snobs and got kicked out. The Tree suddenly started giving the Outer City a limited amount of supplies while the Inner City supply was unlimited.

Sounds a bit incomplete, huh? Well, I never cared much for the history of this crapsack country. All I care about is if I'm going to find enough to survive another day. I walked down the path to the dumps I frequent. The dumps are huge piles of garbage from the Inner City, and lucky for us, a lot of them throw away perfectly good stuff, probably while holding their nose high and declaring their item not up to standard.

I scanned the area. Not many scavengers around. Perfect. The dumps are massive, and the area they cover is vast. Despite all the good stuff I find often, most of it is just straight up trash. I used to gag and vomit back when i first started, but now I can pick through moldy food, rusty cans, and even really nasty stuff like roadkill and feminine hygiene products with ease. The best places to search are the newest dumps, since they're most likely to have functional gadgets and edible food.

I searched through a nice, new pile and found a nice, clean box of microwaveable apple puffs. I said to myself, "Now, who the hell would throw away these?"

"A crazy person, that's who."

I nearly jumped. I turned to see who answered and saw a short, pale, skinny boy with glasses and messy blond hair who looked around my age. He was wearing a jacket three sizes too big and had this rehearsed smile plastered on his face. He waved at me. "Hey. I've seen you around here a lot."

I scowled. "I've seen you around too. Don't talk to me again." I shielded my haul sack. When I started out, a friendly girl talked to me, and once I let my guard down, she stole it and got away. I'm not letting that happen again.

He seemed to notice what I did. He raised his arms. "Don't worry, I'm not gonna steal your bag."

"That's something someone who would steal my sack would say."

He put down his hands. "Okay, true. I'm Chase."

"Hi, Chase. Leave me alone."

"What's your name?"

"None of your business."

"How's the haul?"

"Go away."

He sighed and went back to his own scavenging. "Just trying to make small talk. Y'know, the best way to survive is to stick in a group. Thought you could need someone to help out."

"Are you trying to help me out or are you trying to get me to help you out?"

"...Yeah."

"Best to ask someone else."

"Do you have any friends?"

I coughed. "One. That's enough for me."

"Can I be your friend?"

"Fuck no."

"Mean," he muttered.

We searched in our respective piles for a while, but he kept popping up with questions like, "i found some roadkill. Hey, have you ever eaten roadkill?" or "Have you ever been to the oldest dump?" or "You talk to yourself a lot, you know?"

Eventually, I couldn't stand it so I left for the other side of the dump. The dump was pretty large, so it was far enough from that faux-friendly blabbermouth. His question about the oldest dump stuck in my mind, though. It was the oldest dump, so there was less chance of a good haul from it, but rebels have been searching it forever, looking for clues or machines from the Inner City to use.

I'd never admit it out loud, but I feel pretty selfish about Cherie's situation. I mean, Cherie's doing a good thing, being a medic and helping other people, and here I am demanding that she stick with me. I got flashbacks to the first time I heard she joined. I nearly punched her. I even raised my fist at her. Then I threatened to kick her out of the house. Then I called her stupid and selfish for joining. And that was just one fight. All the others came rushing back all at once. God, why am I such an asshole to her?

Stop it, I told myself. You pick to forget, remember? You're just bringing yourself down again. Idiot.

"Something the matter?" It was that blond Chase guy again. "You look a little tense."

"None of your business."

"Looked like you were thinking about something. What is it? Plans? Picking? Or the past?"

I dropped a can at the last one. "Please, for the love of god, go the fuck away."

"I see." He tented his fingers. "I think I've got you pinned now. Are you one of those people who likes picking to forget?"

I stood up. "I'm out." I decided to head to the old pile and find something for the rebellion, to make up for how I acted to Cherie. Not that it makes up for everything, but it's better than nothing.

He called after me, "Heading for the ancient pile? Are you part of the new rebellion?"

I snorted in indignation. "How dare you."

"I guess that's a no."

I walked quickly. Nosy creep.

I picked all the way to the noon bell. I still couldn't find anything that could be of value. I sighed. The other rebels probably picked it clean already. No use looking again. I shouldered my haul sack but before I left, I spotted a flash of brilliant green in the garbage.

"Hel-lo," I said. I pushed the garbage around it aside and picked it up. It was some sort of spherical device. It was metallic with lines of green running over the sphere in some pattern. It looked in good condition. Whatever it was, it could be vital to the rebellion. I put it in my sack and headed for the newer piles. The Chase boy wasn't around anymore, to my relief. I scavenged a bit more til the night bell. Time to head home.

I reached the door and pushed it open. I said, "I'm back," and tossed the sack on the couch.

Cherie walked over from the kitchen. "Gen, I have big news!"

I flopped onto the couch next to the sack. "Is it about the rebellion? Wait, scratch that. It's a guy, isn't it?"

"Yup! I met just the most exceptional and fantastic guy ever today!"

"Gee, can't wait to hear you talk about him for the rest of the night."

She closed her eyes and pat my shoulder. "Thank you for being such a great friend," she said in mock seriousness.

I leaned back. "I met a guy too. He was annoying, loud, and nosy."

Cherie nodded. "Yes, yes. But was he hot?"

I shrugged. "I dunno."

"Describe him."

"Blond, short, glasses, pale. Real skinny. Had a dumb grin on his face half the time. Jacket was too big for him. His name was, like, Carter or Chevy or something."

"Hmm..." Cherie looked deep in thought. "I'll keep him in mind."

"He kept pestering me, asking me if I had any friends and telling me people survived better in groups. He was so fake it hurt."

"Or maybe," Cherie said, "he's just being nice and you interpreted it as fakeness again?"

I looked down. "Hm." I did have a tendency to do that. But something about him still rubbed me the wrong way. Or am I still being too paranoid?

I shook my head. "Nevermind that." I took the apple puff box out of the sack. "I found some apple puffs. Fresh, unopened box. Your favorite."

"And that is why we are best friends." She took the box eagerly. "What else?"

I took everything else out until finally, the only thing left was the orb. "There's this weird sphere thing from the ancient dump."

Cherie's eyes went wide. "Wha—how—"

I raised my eyebrows. "Why? Did I find something important?"

Cherie grabbed my arm. "You need to see the rebels. Right now."