_ALONE

II.

Chapter word count: 3,860

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It's impossible to get to the next beam on foot. The nameless man — Aiden — can feel his entire body ache from all the running around and evading. It doesn't help that the burnt skin on his arms graze through the fabric of his clothes; every step he takes out of the compound and onto the street makes him stop for a couple of seconds to let out a groan and wait for the pain to ease off. He walks, stops, groans again, until he finally makes it past the gates to look out on the road where there's lesser cars and more room to move through the haphazard traffic. He raises a hand over his eyes as he scans the view, over the distance, at the beam. It seems to be a couple of miles away. He'll definitely need a ride to get there or his legs would give in from all the walking, and they already feel like they're going to buckle in at any given moment.

Aiden studies the cars around him. They're all wrecked and smashed like everything else, but when he finds all of their tires in good condition, he's instantly hit with wonder. He approaches the least-destroyed car, peeks into the driver's side and inspects the seats, all full of glass shards. He brushes them off and climbs in, pries open the glove compartment which is empty, and eyes the dashboard where he finds a key lodged in between the wipers which are both stuck halfway through wiping a non-existent windshield. He grabs the key, starts the ignition, and almost whoops in joy as soon as the engine grumbles back to life.

"Yes!" he breathes out through gritted teeth. He looks up ahead again, at the beam, one hand on the wheel and the other on the gearshift, deep in thought.

He's almost afraid of the memory that would be revealed to him this time. Apart from the fact that he'd been attacked before getting to the beam, the last memory he witnessed feels much more sinister than reassuring: whoever his sister is (or was), she made Aiden promise to stay out of trouble and to not get himself killed, because he seemed to be the type of person to get into trouble all the time. Somehow he's getting the feeling that he broke either one of those promises — assuming he isn't dead yet — but he hopes he's wrong. He doesn't exactly want to unlock all of his memories only to be disappointed.

Or to be disgusted.

Or to be in denial.

He doesn't want any of that.

He wants to know more — something, anything — he really does, but what if he starts to hate all of those memories instead? What if...

What if forgetting forever is the better option?

He swears under his breath.

Shit, Aiden. You can't think like that. Not now.

He shakes his head and begins to drive around the corner, past the other cars. He begins to pursue the long road ahead, towards the next beam of light. He'll have to figure out something later.

~

Something about this empty city is beautiful, and it's more beautiful than Aiden ever thought possible.

He begins to take comfort in the quiet as he drives, the rumble of the car and the desolate melancholy sights keeping him company. It's longer than expected, the drive, but something about it all is liberating. It's like he's a witness to some long-gone civilization that once thrived and was eventually wasted away in the end of times — too many destroyed cars dot the streets and around them houses stand by waiting for their departed inhabitants. Restaurants lay with cold welcome, and empty elevated train tracks soar and tear through buildings, all lonely and forgotten. Trees sway with the wind, a subtle celebration of human absence, and apartment blocks seem to watch him as he drives past; haunting, forbidding.