Apocalypsis 02 - Warpaint

when we met again in two days. I ran them through some cool-down stretches and said some brief goodbyes before walking away. Coli went with me back in the direction of my hut, leaving the girls behind.
    “What’s up?” I asked, not wanting to pressure her to talk, but curious why she wasn’t walking in the opposite direction like everyone else.
    “I … well … first I wanted to say thanks. For the training and stuff.”
    “You’re welcome.” I didn’t know if the ‘and stuff’ actually meant there were other things she was grateful for, but I decided not to worry about it. I knew even this gesture was hard for her and her prickly personality to make.
    “And I also wanted to know if you want to come see Celia with me.”
    “I’d love to.” I didn’t hesitate. I knew this invitation wasn’t given easily, and I really did want to check on my friend. I also could never lose sight of the fact that what I was doing in these sessions was being done to get these kids ready to go after the ones who had not only injured Celia’s body but her mind also. Anything I could do to help them with that I would, including talking to Celia and finding out as much as I could about the canners.
    We walked for a ways in silence. I kept thinking that Coli was going to say something else, but she didn’t. She was always giving me the impression that she’s a tortured soul, like she has a lot of things bothering her and no one to talk to about them. But I told myself that this was ridiculous. She had Kowi and I don’t know how many other relatives and friends around her she could unload on if she wanted to; she just chose not to for whatever reason.
    A couple minutes later, we arrived at a hut that had been set up as a type of clinic. I could see shelves with baskets on them, filled with supplies. Celia was lying on the floor, on a mattress like mine, covered in a brown blanket. Her face looked gray.
    Coli stopped at the entrance, gesturing with her chin for me to go inside.
    I walked in softly, trying not to wake Celia, stopping and sitting down on the floor at her bedside. I watched her breathing in and out, noticing her chest rising and falling at a much faster rate than I would have expected from a sleeping sick person.
    “Celia. I can tell you’re fake-sleeping.”
    Her eyes fluttered a little but didn’t open.
    “That’s fine. Keep pretending. I’ll just sit here and talk. You’re much more interesting when you don’t say anything, anyway.”
    Her lips pressed together, but her eyes remained closed.
    “I know you want to die. I get that. But I have a better idea.” I waited to see if she would respond, but there was still nothing.
    “I know you think that death would bring relief; but you’re wrong. It’ll only bring pain. Everyone here needs you to live. You’re a symbol now, whether you like it or not. Live, and you give the entire indian nation hope. Die, and you’ve turned them all into victims. It’s a heavy responsibility. I don’t blame you for wanting to chicken out and say ‘screw you’ to your whole family.”
    Her eyes popped open. “Shut up,” she croaked out.
    “No, seriously, I mean, what do you care? You’ll be gone. Let someone else clean up the mess. Why should you have to do it?”
    “It’s not like that,” she whispered.
    I shrugged. “That’s how I see it. And I’m sure I’m not alone. But, whatever. It’s your life. Give it to the canners if you want.”
    A tear trickled down her temple, running towards her ear.
    I reached over and wiped it away with my finger before continuing. “Ooor, you could stop lying here marinating in your pity party sauce, and get better so we can go after those animals. Doesn’t that sound fun? Killing canners? I mean, maybe we should be deciding who lives and who dies and not them. I think we’re better qualified to make those decisions since we’re the sane ones.”
    “It’s no use. They have weapons.”
    “So do we. I brought some military-grade with me, and we can get more if we need to. But I can train you, Celia. I can turn you into a weapon; and then the only way anyone will ever get to you again is with a gun, and they’ll have to kill you to stop you. That’s what you want, anyway, right? I could totally hook you up with that glorious death match you keep dreaming about.”
    “I’m going to die anyway. I’m sick.”
    “You wish. You already look better than you did last night.” That was kind of a lie, but she