SMNTY Fiction: Terminus, Part 2 (Chapter 7.1)

After a disastrous encounter with other survivors, Tilda and Madison find shelter and wrestle with their emotions.

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Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:05):
Hey, this is Anny and Samantha. I'm welcome to stuff
I never told you a protection of iHeartRadio and welcome
once again to Sminty Fiction. As a reminder, this is
a once a month thing that we do. It is ongoing.

(00:26):
This is the second in a trilogy, in the Terminus trilogy.
It was originally called Big Things Start Small, but I
changed the name for ease. You can listen to this
without listening to all the other things. It won't make
much sense, but I can't tell you what to do.
You do what you want. Also, as always, Christina is

(00:48):
the one that makes these work. She makes He's amazing.
Thank you so much Christina for all the work you
put in. This is something that I wrote for Nana Raimo.
I believe this one was in twenty eleven and Nano
Raimo is national novel writing months are you. It's fifty
thousand words fifty or sixty in one month. And I

(01:10):
did the previous thing, Terminus, this one and then the
next one for that, and in that spirit, they are
lightly edited. I did edit some of this one, but
it's very light because I kind of like looking back
and seeing what was going on in my brain back then.

(01:31):
And this was when I was just first starting on SINTI,
so a lot of I was getting a lot of
different ideas. I was changing a lot of high viewed things.
So it's cool, it's cool to look back. So content
warning descriptions of violence, murder, memories of violence, non explicit

(01:52):
descriptions of panic and anxiety, dissociation, illness, into the world projection,
I would say, I would say it warn't so warning, honestly.
So here's where we are. Basically, the population is dying
out because of this virus that we learned at the end.
The first one was manufactured by a religious sect of

(02:15):
the government who believed that it was time basically that
God like punished people who they viewed had done wrong.
But of course it got out of hand. They created
a vaccine but then destroyed it all but two, and
they saved one for their grandson, Madison, who is the

(02:40):
main character's son, who she ran away with illegally because
in this world the birth of children is highly regulated
and controlled, and there was this whole confrontation. She met
up with a rebellion and then they weren't quite what
she thought they were. Tilda was able to broadcast this

(03:02):
message about what had happened through the broken network across
the US. And then they're on the run and they've
been pursued by people ever since. And in the last
chapter they were attacked by two men who basically seem

(03:23):
to be running their own town, and Tilda killed them
and Madison helped kill them, and so they are dealing
with the fallout of that. That is where we are
this chapter. Like most chapters, I'm so bad at length.
It got split up, so this first chapter is very introspective,

(03:49):
and then and the next one if you want to teaser,
there's a lot of drama and bad acting on my part.
I think come for that. If nothing else even better. Yeah,
but all right, let us get in to the fiction.

(04:19):
Tilda glanced behind them repeatedly, paranoid as they rode out
of Lafayette. They navigated through a maze of abandoned cars,
some with plants and trees growing out of them. Tilda
terrified to slow that she'd looked behind her and there
would be an army of righteous Ellis's and Jakes chasing
after them, vengeful and hungry for their blood. It took

(04:41):
a gust of cold wind for her to realize that
tears were silently streaming down her face, icy against her cheeks,
and Madison was shuddering against her, sobbing wildly. She didn't
slow down until Scout's pace faltered. Pushed to her limit,
Tilda allowed it, unsure how to approach Maddie since harsh
weeping when she felt so undone herself like coming unstuck.

(05:06):
The next town they came upon was in a horrible
irony called Ellistown. She pushed Scout as far as she
would go until she was down to a trot as
they passed through the dilapidated town that shared the name
of their attacker, not stopping even though Scout panted and
Tilda's throats seared with each gasping breath, air whistling as

(05:26):
she drug it into her lungs. Once Ellistown was sufficiently
behind them, Scout now barely able to muster an amble,
Tilda used the reins to guide her off the road
and down a short ditch and into the cover of
the trees. Coming to a stop next to a small stream,
Tilda practically fell off Scout's back, one lane crossing in

(05:47):
front of the other as she fought to maintain her balance.
Madison had his face pressed into Scout's mane. Tilda gave
him a moment before intoning his name, holding her hands
out for him. He ignored her at first, but then
raised tortured eyes to hers, wanting to understand. Needing safety
and comfort, he took Tilda's hands and hopped down. If

(06:09):
not for Tilda's grip, he would have fallen to his knees. Gingerly.
She wrapped her arms around his trembling body, and they
sunk to the forest floor, both crying quietly. Scout collapsed
heavily to her hind legs, drinking thirstily from the stream,
but all of that fell away until there was just
her son in her arms. Her son, hurt and sobbing,

(06:32):
she hugged him more tightly, her distress making it even
more difficult to breathe. She felt so weak and sore
and exposed. She fell back onto the snowy forest floor bonelessly,
and Madison followed, his face buried in the crook of
her neck. Laying half atop her chest. Tilda stared at
the gray sky until it filled her vision and became

(06:54):
her world, one hand bracing Madison's neck and the other
pressed against his back, soaked through her hair. Her skin
was painfully dry with the cold and remnants of tears.
An image flashed in her head, the look in Ellis's
eyes as he was choking the life out of her,
and she bolted upright, gasping and startling Madison. She pressed

(07:17):
her hand against her chest, willing the image away until
it was dregs at the frayed edges of her mind,
waiting to reform when she let her guard down. The
rifle felt heavy against her back, even though she was cold.
She was too tired to stand. She slipped off her
pack and clumsily unzipped its front pocket and pulled out
a bottle of water, desperately twisting at the cap, her

(07:40):
muscles screaming in protest, her fingers shaking, but to no avail.
She could have cried again with frustration. Gently, Madison popped
the bottle from her hand and twisted the cap off
for her, handing it back to Tilda. Her throat tightened
at the look on his face, but she bit her
emotions back, taking a careful swig of water, wincing as

(08:00):
the cold liquid blaze down her throat. Madison took a
bottle of his own sipping at it, his eyes, never
leaving Tilda, who shied away from the scrutiny. They sipped
their water, each slowly, Tilda grimacing at the contact with
the bruised tissue of her throat, contemplating and trying not to.
She had added a new layer, like a ring of

(08:20):
a tree formed by an earthquake. If people dissected her,
sliced her in half and could see the rings made
by her life, this event would have formed one born
of trauma. Or maybe she had lost a lair shed
it like skin she'd out groan, leaving her new skin
raw and red and painful and itchy, too tight and
too thin. But it would harden because she'd lost soft edges,

(08:45):
and baby skin coluses would grow in its place. She
would never be the same person. She could never go
back to what she was only a few hours earlier.
She mourned that person like a lost sister, someone she
so envied. And the fact that her son had seen
her murder two men made her feel even more exposed

(09:07):
and ugly, like a festering wound you wanted to look
away from but couldn't, so disgusting and vivid in its
awfulness that even when you found the will to look away,
acid bubbling in your throat and a sour taste in
your mouth. The image lingered, burnt into your retina. When
she'd shot the man in Chicago, she and Madison, she believed,

(09:30):
had been able to convince herself that the man had survived.
It had happened so quickly, with minimal blood and fuss.
He hadn't even made a sound. The killing of Ellis
and Jake had been a much more brutal and violent act,
long and messy, bringing to light a part of Tilda
that normally lived in the darkness, something hideous and sickening.

(09:52):
She'd heard them die, choking and gasping for breath, agonized.
She'd felt Ellis die, the sensation of the blade sliding
into his side tingling in her fingers, seeing the blank
emptiness left behind in Jake's eyes after he'd gone, and
Madison had. Madison lost a there too, of course he had.

(10:15):
He had no choice but to play a role as well,
jabbing the little pocket knife in Elis's back as he
watched the man strangle his mother. This would haunt his dreams.
He'd look at her and he'd see her stabbing Ellice,
once in the back and again in the side. He'd
always know that side of Tilda it existed, He'd never
feel safe with her as he once had. Her water finished,

(10:41):
Tilda looked at her gloves, shivering at the dried blood
hardening around the fingers. Gingerly, she inspected her throat, hissing
at the swollen flesh. She touched her face. It was
puffy and swollen, hot, even through her covered fingers. Madison
watched her every move, his eyes wide and bright and
blue and shining. Tilda felt a surge of rage at

(11:04):
Ellis and Jake for putting them in this situation, or
threatening them, for what they had planned for her, and
especially what they had planned her Madison, for ripping the
fabric of their already worn lives, but it was quickly
devetailed with grief. This world had made monsters of all
of them. Tilda knew they needed to talk about the
events that had just unfolded, but she had no idea

(11:26):
how to broach the topic. She was afraid of the
look she'd find in Madison's eyes, of what he'd say,
that he'd condemn her, and what could she say in response. Nevertheless,
she was an adult and his mother, and if they
were each other's anchors, the only other person in this lonely,
lonely world, she couldn't afford for their relationship to drift

(11:47):
apart and disintegrate, but she didn't have an inner to
do it right now, she was ground down and immaterial
and weak, unformed like smoke, and they were quickly losing
the light. Ellis was correct about that they needed to
find somewhere as much out of the way as possible
to stay for the night. Judging by Scout's countenance, she

(12:09):
didn't have much more left in her to get them
much farther. Tilda took a moment to gather her thoughts
and formulate the rough sketch of a plan. They'd find somewhere,
and then they'd talk. She promised herself she would not
back out. She would face what she'd done and allow
Madison to judge her actions as he saw fit. She'd

(12:29):
given him the tools, now she'd give him the truth
and hopefully the comfort he needed. First, they had to
get somewhere. She knew she should be hungry, but the
thought of eating made the heavy water curdling in her
stomach churn, clearing her throat painfully, she ground out in
a raspy voice filled with scratches. You hungry, Madison shook

(12:53):
his head, his breath catching. He broke her gaze, hunching
his shoulders and hugging himself around the waist. Tilda's heart twisted.
Replacing the empty bottle, She zipped her back and woozily
used a tree trunk to stand, going over to Scout
and rubbing her neck. You got a little more, any girl,
she murmured, rough like sandpaper, Just a little bit further.

(13:16):
Scout's big black eyes did not waver from her face.
She pushed herself up on her legs. Wearily, Tilda pressed
her forehead to the horse's neck, grateful, retrieving some pellets
from the stowed away pouch and feeding them to her.
Come on, Madison, The boy stood and climbed up onto
Scout's back without Tilda's help. She tried not to feel

(13:37):
stung by it, but she'd gone largely numb emotionally anyway.
She hoisted herself up behind him, her body throbbing like
a big, painful bruise, and she guided Scout back onto
the asphalt, ignoring the muffled fears screaming to be recognized.
She felt so alert, her heart pumping far too quickly,
everything around them in sharp detail, sickeningly in focus. Not

(14:02):
too far ahead, they ran into a smaller highway heading
west to Seneca Hollow Route six three six. Tilda took it,
deeming that getting off this road would hopefully throw off
any of Ellis and Jake's people that would surely come
looking for them, thirsting for revenge. Six three six sloped
downward and took a hairpin turn left, running parallel to

(14:23):
both the highway that they'd just been on and the
Roanoke River. The sun sank lower and lower on the horizon,
indigo rays of light peeking over the edge. As the
daylight faded, the road crossed over the river, converting to
a one lane road over a muted roar of water,
and on the other side was a set of train tracks,
rusted and warped with time. They were obviously not still

(14:44):
in use, like those that originated from DC, like the
heads of a hydra. A little while after the railroad,
Tilda spotted a mailbox reading Echo Hills Farms, an ornate
pig on top of it, the wood painted a bright red.
She took a gamble the night nearly gone, that there
would be a secluded farmhouse up the dirt road. Scout
was reduced to a slow trot, her neck bent towards

(15:05):
the ground as they trekked upward through rows of dead corn,
bleached brown and rustling in the quiet, still air. The
sun was halfway hidden behind the horizon. When two buildings,
both of them large, and a silo, came into view.
Tilda felt a muted relief, but also fear people could
still be living here, or perhaps people from Ellis's and

(15:26):
Jake's crew used this as an outpost. The farmhouse and
silo made an odd silhouette against the indigo sky, stars
already prickling through the fabric of the night, the crescent
moon cutting sharply overhead. Tilda pulled an exhausted Scout to
a halt right outside the stairs and slid off the
horse to her feet, and Madison followed without asking. Tilda

(15:47):
muttered for him to wait with Scout and crept up
the stairs, boots heavy and loud against the wood. She
was on the landing of a wide porch, complete with
what must have once been an ornate rocking chair. The
outside wall lined with wind windows. Tilda tried to peek inside,
but could only see vague outlines and shapes through the thick,
moldy satin curtains. With bated breath that burned in her throat,

(16:10):
she took hold of the curled gold blacquered handle and
pushed the top button. It didn't budge. Tilda's mind went
frighteningly blank. No backup plans other than the two other
buildings of this complex that were probably locked as well,
breaking in a window and letting in the cold air.
But then a memory solidified in her mind, fuzzy edges.

(16:31):
She looked down at the thick, burlapped covered doormat that
read home, Sweet Home, and flowery cursive. She bent down
and reached beneath it, her hand running against the small
plastic rectangle she'd been hoping for but didn't imagine she'd
really find. The darkness had increased rapidly, black, overtaking the
hues of blue and indigo, making it hard for Tilda's

(16:51):
gloved hands to open the black box she'd retrieved, But
eventually she found the class on the side and it
popped open. A silver metal key glint with the faint
light of the moon with the shaky breath, she once
again stood, the blood rushing to her head, making her dizzy.
She fumbled with the key and the lock for a
few seconds, at first trying to force it in the
wrong way. She flipped it over and splid it home

(17:14):
with the satisfying click and crunch of tumblers. Twisting it
left and the door cracked open. Nervously, she pushed the
stained glass door all the way ajar tensing at the
squeaking creek of the hinges. The air inside was stale,
but relatively free of odor, apart from old wood. She
looked back at Madison and Scout, wondering if it was

(17:34):
safe for them to come inside before she'd properly checked
the place out. The house was huge, so huge that
it could take another hour in this darkness, so she
gestured for Madison to lead the horse up the stairs
and told him to wait next to the doorway after
she'd closed the colorful glass door behind them and locked it.
Listen for me, she instructed, quietly, in case I find something.

(17:57):
The house was wide open, large rooms and open spaces,
vaulted ceilings at least ten feet high. It was filled
with things that indicated a once wealthy family. There was
a black piano in the corner of the room. They
first found themselves in a multi tiered chandelier hanging from
a gold chain attached to the ceiling. The floors were chestnut,
still waxy, reflecting the light of the silver moon, nice chairs,

(18:21):
stone carvings of horses and pigs, shelves of books. The
windows were tall, white framed, and spanned almost the entire
north and south facing walls. Thick red satin curtains draped
over them. She passed through that room into the next one,
a rectangular dining room with a twelve person mahogany table,
five chairs along each long end and two at each

(18:42):
respective head of the table. The chairs were hand carved,
are the very least they appeared to be. The table
was draped with a lacy white tablecloth, long scents covered
in mold. It was still set forks and knives and
plates and glasses. There was a china cabinet in the room,

(19:02):
filled with china blue and white fancy plate settings for
special occasions that would never be used again. Through the
wide doorway next to the cabinet was the kitchen. A
mirror of the dining room size and layout wise. A
blue speckled marbled slab occupied the island in the middle
of the kitchen. The counters stocked with colorful stainless steel appliances,

(19:23):
a coffee maker, blender, microwave, bamboo cutting board, three door
silver refrigerator, Pictures of a smiling family of eight held
by smiley faced magnets, two parents and six kids, and
other pictures with different pairings. Thereof at school on horses
on the porch, playing in the backyard, and a school
concert or play. There were yellow post it notes that

(19:46):
had been washed out and crinkled with time, thin curse
of black letters, almost lost items to pick up at
the grocery store. Kyle's band practiced at five point thirty,
Jenna's dance recital at seven. Don't forget to take Purtda
on a wa Tilda open the refrigerator just to be
sure nothing All three doors nothing. She flipped through the cabinets,

(20:09):
finding some canned goods, beans, pumpkin vegetables that she stood
away in her bag. A side door opened to the outside,
a view of the barnhouse through glass windows. Tilda check
to make sure it was locked over The door was
a piece of stitchwork that read home is where you are.
Tilda scratched at her arm, subconsciously retracing her footsteps. Madison

(20:31):
watched her solemn as she passed. His blue eyes bright
pinpricks with the moonlight in the darkness of the room.
On the other side of the first story was what
Tilda supposed would have been called a reading room or
sitting room. A large rug muffled her footsteps. The walls
that weren't taken up with windows were lined with bookshelves,
most aligned with books, others lined with trinkets, small figurines,

(20:52):
ornamental fans, pots that once house plants. Plush armchairs with
side tee tables were arranged in an oval. There was
a cookbook and a copy of a book called Catch
twenty two on one of the tables. Another had a
bottle of liquor glass Stoppered in between two of the
chairs was a chess table. Tilda returned to the main
room and stepped up the wooden stairs, each step clunking

(21:14):
loudly in the vacuum of silence. Along the stairwell were
portraits of the family, old wedding photos, the children at
various ages, babies, young kids with gaps between their teeth,
soccer ball under the arm, sledding, a Christmas photo with
a decked out evergreen tree in the background, hanging with
ornaments and sparkling with lights, moments of time preserved behind glass. Upstairs,

(21:39):
she found a cluster of rooms. The master bedroom for
the parents, with an enormous high queen bed in its
own private bathroom, and the children's rooms, most of them
with either bunk beds or twin beds. The walls painted
with giraffes and tall grass are galaxies and stars, a
girl's room with butterflies. All the rooms were equipped with
toys and books, born games, textbook's deaths, laptops, snapshots of

(22:03):
various ages, each personalized and almost living, with all the
soul imbued in them. Hall closet overflowing with blankets, pillows, towels,
a bathroom with a brightly covered fish bath mat and
matching toothbrush holder and shower curtain. Tilda shuddered at all
that life gone, the bereft energy. She passed a mirror

(22:27):
in the hallway and shivered at the sight of herself
looking away. Immediately, even though the rooms were brimming with
the lives that had played out here. There were no
signs of anyone currently residing in this farmhouse. She'd happed
to check the silo on the barn later, but for
now she was satisfied. No one else was in this
house but them. It's clear, She called down to the

(22:49):
fretfully waiting Madison, her throat grating. She bent over the
wood and iron railing. I'm going to toss down some
blankets and pillows for us. We can sleep on that
big red couch. Madison nodded, leading Scout into the main
room and letting her lay down next to the fireplace.
Can I feed her? He shouted up to her timidly
as she filled her arms with the most comfortable and

(23:11):
warm looking comforters and pillows. Yes, just a small handful.
She returned, dropping what she'd collected over the side. They
landed on the floor near Madison with a woof. She
went back and pulled out even more, along with a
quilt she thought would be good for Scout, and toss
them over the side as well. She returned down the stairs,
doing her best to mask her a fear at the

(23:32):
conversation she knew she had to have with Madison. Her
stomach had settled somewhat. She didn't feel like she was
going to spit up blood from the glass yards she
felt like were lodged in her throat anymore. But her
heart was still pounding, and she couldn't shake the feeling
that they were being stalked. Could you set these blankets up, please?
That patch quilt for scout. I'm going to check the

(23:54):
barn real quick. It was silly, but Tilda would be
foolish not to check it out. As she passed to
go out the side door, Madison reached out for her,
almost of his own volition, but Tilda looked at him,
his eyes asking for her to stay. Something in her loosened.
We come on stuck, She'd dread that somewhere once. I'll

(24:17):
be all right. I'll be right back, she whispered. She
shrugged one strap of her pack off and swung it
up to her front. Digging out a flashlight, she clicked
it on a bright blue fluorescent spotlight. Dancing around. She
passed it to him a torch to supplement the silver moonlight.
Take this, she fetched one for herself as well. Madison

(24:38):
took it, clutching it to his chest and swallowed his
gaze searching. You're hurt, I'll just be a minute. Reluctantly,
Madison released his clutch on her jacket, and she just
as reluctantly turned away and passed back through the kitchen
and out the door. And that brings us to the

(25:13):
end of this portion of the fiction. I hope that
you enjoyed it. Like I said, it was definitely more introspective.
I joked in the last one where I was like, oh,
I can see where I got these names from. I
definitely did look up, as I've said before, maps, and uh,
I mean, maybe it's not there anymore, but there really
wasn't Ellis Town when I was looking it up, So

(25:37):
that is where that came from. And yeah, this was
this was a tough ye. I feel like when I
was rereading this, when I got a little I was like, oh,
I remember exactly where I was when I wrote this.
I remember. But it does have that when you're when
you're from the South, a lot of times you've seen
this exact place I was describing, like those big you know,

(25:58):
those big like habins and they have the second story
that's open and as all the bunk beds on it,
like this is what that is? Yes, I probably went
way too much into detail. That is one of the
issues I would say with Nano raimo, which you're like,
let me describe everything in depth, but it is such

(26:22):
a specific I know exactly what this is. Also, I
apologize to Scout the horse. I don't know how horses work.
I do know that this was not good for Scout.
But no, no harm has come from any actual horse, No, no,

(26:44):
But yeah, I just feel like after what happened, you
would have so much to wrestle with and with this
because they've gotten this call over the broadcast system, come
back to DC. There's a vaccine, like we can make

(27:05):
a vaccine, but we need Madison to do it, and
wrestling with that, and you're going to see a lot
more of that in the next one, which is very
dialogue heavy, But that's that's where they are. They're still
sort of trying to figure out what they're going to
do and being pursued by all these people and not
feeling safe anywhere. So if you're like me and you

(27:28):
like this, thanks for joining. If you don't like it,
thanks for joining. If you have any theories or anything
that you would like us to do that's in the
public domain in this realm. We love doing it. It's
fun for us to kind of try something different. Let
us know. You can email us at Stephanie Moms stuff

(27:50):
at iHeartMedia dot com. You find us on Twitter at
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Never Told You Luso on YouTube. We have tea Pulpit
store and we have a book you can get wherever
you get your books. Thanks as always to our super
producer Christina, our executive Christin Maya, and our contributor Joey.
Thank you and thanks to you for listening. Stuff Never
Told You is production of my Heart Radio. For more
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(28:11):
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