𝗧𝗼𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗿𝗼𝘄'𝘀 𝗟𝗮𝘀𝘁 𝗕𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗵 | an apocalyptic novel ©

Chapter 104

Ghost Town

2035

Valencia

Aidan must really need this sleep.

I've been awake for a little while now, standing at the tall windows and staring outside, watching the sunrise with my Thermo cup with water in my hand.

I'll give him time.

Is he still asleep?

I have been watching the sunrise turn into a moody sky with a few birds flying by and at some point I have spotted them coming back from their hunt.

A bit more, then I'll be worried. He just seems to be very tired.

Fuck that, Aidan might be dead!

I whirl around to the bed and glance at him lying there in a weird position, his nose nuzzled into his elbow covering his eyes to prevent the light from blinding his eyes.

Is he even breathing?

His one arm is hanging out of the bed, almost touching the ground. Fiddling with one of his fingers doesn't work. I bend over him and prop my hand on my hips, trying to think of something I could shout at him.

But I can't. I can't just yell at him, he's probably heard that for too long already.

Sighing, I walk over to the mattress and flop down on it like a fish thrown on land, hoping I could wake him with it rather than having to yell at him. I lie there, staring up to the ceiling, at the wallpaper wilting from the walls from the water that has trickled down on them from the exposed pipe. It's a wonder how this roof hasn't collapsed on top of us already.

Sheepishly, I glance over to Aidan. At least he has turned around on his back now. So he is alive. Fucking hell.

I scoff when I see a smirk spreading on his lips and he slowly drags his arms away from his eyes. "I love how you would have been ready to yell at me," he grumbles.

"Excuse me?" I sit up and jab his side, "I thought you died."

Aidan shakes his head when he scoots out of bed and stretches his arms. "No, I don't think it'd be this easy to get rid of me."

Thanks to Aidan, we got out of the hotel later than I thought. We continue our exploring from where we found the boutique and stumble upon an overgrown playground. I can only faintly make out where a playhouse used to stand, since there is a whole bush growing in it, its twigs and branches leaning through the windows and wrapping around the ladder rungs. Driving my hands over the metal railings of the carousel next to it, I start to think about Henry. He's buried next to my front porch, under the apple tree he used to look up to, to see the birds when he was younger until it was corroding from the weather anomalies. I hope I did him justice.

Henry used to love going to playgrounds, he always bugged me about it. I went once with him, and the ladder from the playhouse fell apart – that was the first time I was utterly terrified for my brother's safety.

"Vally?" Aidan's voice rings in my ears, "Valencia!"

I look at him standing at the gate to the street again. "You're thinking, and I don't like it," he says, studying my eyes. He probably knows what I'm thinking about. Catching up to him, I look to the ground. I don't like how he looks at me, how he sees right through me, how he can tell what I'm thinking about without having to voice it.

My Converse sneakers scratch in the dirt on the ground. "Do you believe in the afterlife?"

"Wha-" Aidan's eyes partially widen when I blurt that question out so easily, "I mean, I hope there's something that waits there – wherever – but I don't know wh-"