Life beyond perimeter

“Wake up-wake up now-wake up!”
Wicked’s screaming through her teeth, eyes still bulging now watering from too much air. The girls find themselves still sitting in the ancient house atop the broken roof. Graphic’s snoring, drooling and reacting rather positively to being shook.
“Fuck,” she groans through closed mouth.
She knew better and now she feels stupid. As she sulks down onto the floor rubble dust covering the top of her hat, and everything else, she resigns herself. The sounds outside begin to sound like music, the force of the wind almost surreal. This certainly isn’t Liberation Land. This place feels almost wild, the burning air, the bellowing winds even the colors were alive. Yet, dead.
Wicked doesn’t dare move. Simply breathes deep. She can hear music inside, she’s playing it for herself hoping to slow the rapid pace of her heart. In and out. Deep breath-in and out. Over and over again she does this until her eyes close. No thoughts, just breathing, calm rhythmic breathing. She’s almost back in school behind the curtain, the calm right before the rush.
The door handle turns. The sound slow and jarring her whole body goes stiff-it’s locked. Now holding her breath she bites her lower lip, they jostle the knob then stop. For a moment everything’s quiet almost as if the person is gone, they aren’t. The jostling begins again this time more methodical-picking the lock!
She sucks in air hard as a hand falls on her shoulder she screams the sound immediately muffled. Eyes wide she turns-it’s Graphic. Of course. She’s all smiles as the lock clicks. They got it.
The door knob turns slowly our girls just watch as it opens and a man steps in. He doesn’t notice them, not at first, not as he closes the door, but when he turns back around the room is green. Wicked can’t contain it, she’s glowing.
“What the fuck-”
“HI!” Graphic exclaims happily eyes round. New faces can do that to a girl.
He pulls his gun as she moves towards him.
“He-hey don’t move!“
She tilts her head, looking confused and a bit sad.
“What the fuck is with the green.. Is-is she irradiated?“
Perking up, “No, no-well maybe I really don’t know, but you’re safe… sorta,” she looks down at Wicked who just sits, stunned.
She’s tired, just fucking tired. All she wanted was a normal day. A. Normal. Fucking. Day. But no, of course not.
“Wicked?” Graphic pokes her, “Wiiiiicked,” and then again.
Before a third time, “It probably isn’t good,” she sighs shaking herself awake, “Put down the gun, and I’ll tr-”
Interrupting, Graphic presses her cheek against Wicked’s her eyes flashing that toxic green.
“Rogue time bitches!” the glow transfers between the two women and then dies.
Wicked pushes her off.
“I told you never to do that!“ rage replaces the green only to be interrupted.
“Alright, that was pretty cool,” the man drops his gun, “I’m Sam, and let me just say I never thought I’d be lucky enough to meet a pair of friendly mutations!”