Ephemeral

chapters 1-4

Chapter one

Veeno's coat draped across his shoulders, the soft rain dampened it slowly as he walked across the uneven remains of what use to be a road. Every few metres he'd see the faint white line that once divided the street in two, an unwelcome reminder of the functioning society that had been torn apart. Veeno's assault rifle lent against his collar. The dented optic mount dug into his shoulder, yet at this point he had grown use to the sharp shard of metal that had splintered away from the gun. Veeno was 19 but looked like he could be in his late 20s. He was tall and tanned and had long dark brown hair in which he tied into a bun, several strands had been randomly platted out of boredom, some of which hung around his face. His shoulders were pushed forward, and his back was arched giving him noticeably bad posture that was by now a habit he couldn't quite break. His feet ached in his leather boots, the bottom of the left shoe had worn thin, and a hole had formed at the heel, leaving his bare foot to rub against the gravel and after hours of walking had caused it to bleed. He wore a red sweater, the threads coming lose at the sleeves, and it certainly didn't help as he plucked at the wool. Veeno felt the familiar aching in his chest, it had been accompanying him for days now. It was a hollow and creepy feeling as if paranoia had possessed his body. Veeno had come to the conclusion that it was his body reminding him that things sucked, just in case he'd somehow forgotten. He wanted to stop, to sit and rest, but internally he knew that he had to keep walking. Had the world ended by any other means he'd happily lay down and accept his fate, yet, to do so now seemed more than just self-abusive...

The sun had begun to set and there was a soft orange glow against the clouds in the otherwise blue sky. The country road he had been walking down slowly became more urbanised. The buildings of a once beautiful community were dirty, with broken windows and cleft doors. Trash was littered throughout the streets and cars were abandoned on the side of the roads. The emptiness of the homes and shops around him poured into him, strengthening his pessimistic perception of the reality he'd woken up in months ago. Had Veeno been more aware of the fading daylight he might have considered walking back to the country road and waiting for the safety of day. Yet the light had faded so gradually, and his thoughts had been so consuming that he'd not noticed the orange glow reflecting on the city or the breeze regaining its characteristic evening chill until he'd found himself lost in a maze of identical buildings.

"I am an idiot." He said aloud. His tone didn't imply anger, he said it rather factually, almost as if he were reciting it from a textbook.

Veeno glanced around the neighbourhood. Did the streetlights still work? He couldn't wait around to see if they did... He'd not enough bullets in his gun nor the will to exert the effort to find out. This quickly led him to the only remaining option: hiding.

Veeno walked up to a house, placed his hand on the door handle and slowly rotated his wrist, when the door handle twisted with it, he let go and let it click back in place. He repeated the odd process several times in complete silence, his shuffled walk and the grind of the handle turning were the only noises to be heard. The now dark sky seemed almost peaceful, and if Veeno were to only look up and ignore the ground in which he stood, he could pretend it was a normal night. Veeno paused as he walked towards another house, his foot resting on the paved step and if he were to stretch out his arm his fingertips would brush the door. He sighed, the will to keep moving fading quickly. He wondered if he could just stay in that spot forever, become a statue on the lawn, just another part of the décor. But then he heard something... A gentle far-off pattering travelling closer. It could only be compared to herd of wild animals were charging in his direction. Though as it neared, the sounds separated. Footsteps. Scratching. A shrill, high pitch screech...

"Shit" Veeno quickly dropped his slow pace and began running between houses turning each handle.

The scent of ashes filled the air. Veeno had become nauseated by the smell of stale smoke on reflex, whether it was out of disgust or horror he'd not decided, nor did he wish to spend the time pondering it.