We proceeded down the street. The asphalt was cracked and I could feel the stone shift beneath my feet. A muddy grass was stabbing through the gaps. There was fog too. A dusky brown fog, like a sandstorm had just ravaged the area. You couldn't see any more than ten steps ahead but in the distance you could faintly make out the detailing of our surroundings. A series of pylons were on the right and to our left was a five story apartment block. If you looked well enough, you'd see the units were chipped and dead. Only a few balcony window screens had been broken, the rest were so dirty that they were useless. As your eyes scale the building you could make out that it truly was a shattered and unholy place. But just a quick glance and you would be under the impression it was like any other, nothing particularly strange at all. Except that there was not a single soul around. A desolate place. And that silence. Every time I notice it, I get a chill. Damn that feeling. It doesn't go away. Not till you accept it.
We moved on and began to make out the outlines of a few other buildings. On each side of the street were rows of houses and in the midst, a school. I started hearing one of the men behind me rambling on to the other. A decrepit philosopher. Liked nothing more than expressing his empirical thought process, but sometimes he wouldn't shut up about it. Reeked of fear. He spoke of the mutants, the bombs, the plague, how you start to lose your skin. I shuffled back in line with them.
"Shut-up" I sternly whispered. "Like I said, stay calm and shut up".
The other man moved his head within my view. He was a Painter. Young. Young, stupid, greedy and ignorant.
"Listen, Bones" he whispered "Why don't we go back to the gate and grab the car? Rather than arrive in an hour we could probably get to the clearing within twenty. Wa'dya' say?
I stopped and slapped the young mans face. "Shut-up!" I ordered "I'll tell you again; you have to be careful in this place. Instead of being dependant on the inconsiderately efficient, you must depend upon your awareness. Anticipate everything. Be suspicious. But be respectful. That is if you want this place to bring you back alive."
He looked at me pitifully like a fractious child, and went on "But why not the Jeep?" he argued "The thing is as quiet as a mouse."
"Not to this place." I scanned the area. "This place is not human. You better be careful using your analogies around here, my friend, 'cos the mouse you find will be as big as a dog."
We'd passed the schools now. By the way, those explosions that caused this were far from ordinary. It was clean. They say it was like a red tornado that took the living. Only the living. Most other things in this place were unharmed. A teddy bear on the sidewalk, brown and fluffy. Curtains over windows--some even looked new. Yes, it looked like nothing had happened here at all. But it felt like everything had happened. And it had. Thousands died when the bombs hit. Only a few survived, and they all met their maker a day after the sickness struck. They called it the red plague because within minutes after the exposure, your skin would start to reveal a red complexion. Soon, your head would start to boil and feel as though you were upside down. An hour passes and the next thing you know, you're not only coughing up your heart but looking for a sponge to soak up the blood melting through your pores. Most people just later became flesh hungry carnivores. Sometimes it leaves me feeling a dainty numb happiness knowing they never found my mother.
We were far in now. We walked a few more metres, turned a couple blocks and finally made it to the exit. Into the clearing. I tell you, the grass was so vibrant I nearly cried. We sat by that gate and waited till the bus arrived. When it did, their families crawled out. First, the red dressed wife who embraced her young painter. Then the daughter, who refused to release the clasp of the wrinkly old man. Then, they left. It all happened so quickly, no words exchanged. Not a single expression for the help of leading them through that death trap. I turned back to go home before I heard someone call out to me. I looked over my shoulder and before me stood a young girl, no more than sixteen. "Excuse me, do you lead people through to the other side?"
"Yes, I do."
"I need to get to my mother in the town on the far side. How much?"
"If it's for family there's no charge." I smiled. "Just stick close, and don't make a sound. Ok?"
She nodded, smiled and ran up to grab my hand. Cute. We both turned and walked back in. Welcome to the perimeter. Population zero.
I moved in front a few steps and zipped down my radiation suit. I pull out a flask. Its silver shines amongst the rusty world that surrounds me. I take a gulp and feel the warmness of the alcohol enter my bloodstream. Much better.
We continued moving. Damn these fools! I'm so sick of them. Shortcut here, shortcut there. Is their life nothing to a faster path?
