Moonlit Waters

Chapter 15

I'm in my school, standing in my classroom by the seat I usually sit in.

But everything looks different.

Dim light plunges the room in a reddish shade of brown, the floor is cracked. Wood is splintered, the blackboard has fallen off its hinges, the glass is shattered. Flakes of ash float in the air lazily.
I'm the only one in the room. No bodies, no sounds that indicate the presence of even a single living soul besides me.

At the edge of my mind, there is the vague knowledge that this room should look different.

With slow steps, I walk to the window. The world outside lies in twilight too.

The thick layer of clouds, that shuts out the sun, is the colour of dried blood.

The world underneath looks apocalyptic. Trees have burned down, leaving only charred stumps.
There is no grass, there are no bushes or flowers. Where there was once a climbing frame in the schoolyard, there is now only a large crater.

Where is everybody?

My breath grows ragged and I turn to leave the classroom.

Quick, hasty steps carry me through the school, searching every classroom for even a single occupant. But there are none.

Wheezing for breath, pressing my hand against my left side to fight the stitch, I step out onto the schoolyard.

Not a single soul.

Panic overcomes me. What happened?

Ignoring the pain in my lungs, I begin running.

The school is quite far away from my home town. Several miles. We usually take the bus to get there, some parents drive their kids.

Despite that, it barely seems to take me five minutes to get home.

On my way, I encounter burned-down car wrecks, standing as charred landmarks in the barren surroundings.

But the town isn't any better. Houses have broken down into heaps of rubble, others have burned down, leaving only bricks and ashes to attest their former existence. Others have somehow been left standing during the initial catastrophe, but seem to have since fallen to time and weather. Roofs have collapsed; windows burst.

I feel like they're watching me, the ruins. The black holes in their walls seem like eyes that follow my every step with malicious intent.

My house still stands. The roof has only partially collapsed and it doesn't look like it was affected by the fire.

The inside is devastated. Shards of glass cover the floor in a thin layer, crunching under each of my steps. The TV is broken on the floor, the kitchen table has been thrown on its side, like a barricade to protect against something you can't be protected from.

I don't stay downstairs for long. Taking three steps at a time, I run up the stairs.

But there is nobody there, either.

The door to my sister's room isn't there anymore and I don't have to enter her room to see the damage.

The frame of her bed is cracked. There's a large spot on her mattress that I don't look closely enough at to assess whether it's a burn or blood. Her favourite plushy, a bear named Tibbers, has fallen off the bed. It is dirty and its lower half has been torn, the filling spilling out onto the floor.

I avert my gaze before I see too much.

I feel sick.

The door to my parent's room is wide open. The bed looks okay, but the covers are disturbed, the blanket thrown onto the floor carelessly.