What's Going On?
The sun touched the horizon. A haze ran along the edge of the world, and touched the edges of rusty metal. In the corner of her eye, she noticed the thick, dusty orange refract in a broken school bus window.
The junkyard was beautiful at sunset.
The edge of a sunbeam shone against the rusty, brown-red stake that had been stuck in the ground, after the impromptu fencing match.
A vibrant, blue butterfly landed upon an abandoned table. It was sharp and out-of-place on the orange and brown backdrop.
It lifted, fluttering its wings against the weight of the air. It drifted among the sky for a moment - and the sunlight shone through its wing.
It landed on a sideways, dull green beer bottle. It had a tiny amount of sticky, yellow liquid left in it - and it pooled in a shallow creek against the tipped side of the bottle.
A single thick, greasy droplet was gathering at the lip of the bottle. The butterfly seemed to consider the droplet - before lowering an antenna to it.
It seemed to deem the droplet unworthy of consumption, though - and flew away a moment later.
The droplet grew fatter and fatter against the lip - until it was barely left clinging to its home.
But, finally, its weight was too great for it to hang on any longer.
It fell. The light pierced it as it carried to the ground - and the beam came out changed on the other side, a thin mist of yellowish light that splashed against the ground and left a stain.
The droplet hit the ground - and burst. An explosion of liquid shrapnel touched the light, and dissipated into mist. The only pieces that managed to survive merely hit the ground, and vanished - leaving only a tiny spot of slightly moist dirt, that would never be noticed.
And Max pressed the shutter release.
A flash of light. A shuddering noise.
She grabbed the photo, and shook it out - taking great satisfaction in the loose feeling of her whipping wrist.
“How do you look, my pretty?” She muttered - and held the photo up against the light.
It was a good shot. Capturing the untouched, yet ruined beauty of the place.
She took out her pen - and scratched out a label at the bottom of the photo, using her camera as an impromptu clipboard.
Rachel And Chloe’s Junkyard.
Suddenly, a hand came up and snatched the photo up.
She startled, and turned - to find Chloe staring.
“Can I get that pen?”
Hesitantly - and slowly - she handed the pen over. Chloe took it, and scratched onto the photo - before handing it back.
And, on the bottom - there was a hastily added & Max!! to her title.
She couldn’t help but giggle.
“That’s a good ampersand.” She muttered thoughtfully, peering at the symbol in question.
“A good what?”
Max blinked.
“...The and symbol.”
“Oh. Yeah, I worked for a bit to be able to draw that bad girl.” Chloe said, leaning against her shoulder - and she was still warm as a radiator. Max tried not to be distracted.
And failed.
“But it’s c-”
Brrrring!
They both startled horribly - Chloe practically jumping three feet in the air. She fished around in her pockets - and pulled out her phone.
“...Uh… Max?”
“Chloe?” She muttered, considering the photo still.
Brrrring!
“It’s your number.” Chloe said - leaning over to show her.
She blinked.
“...Huh.”
Brrrring!
“Should I answer it?” Chloe muttered, bringing it in front of her face.
Max shrugged.
Br-
Chloe answered.
“...Hello? Who is this?”
Max heard a vague murmuring sound on the other end - and pocketed the photo, so she could turn and watch.
Chloe’s face changed from curious to confused.
“Yeah, that’s me.” Chloe glanced at her, and said, “why do you have Max’s phone?”
Murmuring again.
As the person on the other side talked, Chloe’s expression shifted again - to relief and curiosity, this time.
“Oh! You’re Max’s friend, then?” Chloe sent her a glance, and raised her eyebrows. “Yeah, I’ll hand the phone over to her. We’ll have to hang out some time, though - talk shop. ...Yeah, alright. One mo’.”
With that, Chloe held the phone out.
“They say their a… friend? They think you dropped it.”
Max furrowed her brow.
Didn’t I plug it in? ...I guess not?
She took the phone, and pressed it to her ear.
“Hello?”
“What the fuck are you doing, Maxine?”
She let out a tiny sound - and felt her eyes go wide. The slight flush on her cheeks, from the biting wind, dripped away to a pale dread.
“Wha - Vict-?”
“Where are you?”
She flinched away, before pressing the phone against her ear again.
“T-the junkyard?” She managed. “But I’m not- what’s wr-”
Click.
She lowered the phone from her ear - and noticed Chloe, staring at her with thinly veiled wariness.
“...Mad Max? You… alright?”
“It was Victoria.” She muttered. Chloe blinked, and furrowed her brow.
“But… she said her name was Taylor. Why would she…?”
“I don’t know.” Max muttered - and stared at the phone, feeling a creeping sense of foreboding.
...What’s going on?