Halfway to a Hundred

6: Wooden Beams

Connie.

Is my first thought.

And my next is to run.

I pelt across the hot sand, trying not to slip and trying not to let the winds blow me over.
Not too far off, I can see a few shapes that resemble buildings.

And the sound wails through the air again, and this time I'm sure it's a voice. The thing that makes me uncertain, though, is that it doesn't sound like Connie.
It sounds like a little boy.

But I figure maybe I have sand in my ears or something and keep running until I can make out maybe ten buildings sitting alone in the sea of yellow sand.

I slow down as I come nearer. I think I am in the remnants of a village, but from what I can see through my sand-burned eyes, the few buildings I originally spotted are the only ones here, and there don't seem to be any signs of others, not even stray bricks or wood.

While I'm listening for the sound again, I look around at my surroundings. This is not any place I've ever been to. The tall concrete and stone buildings around me look abandoned, and in a different way than my village looks when it shuts down for dry season.

The windows are not boarded up; in fact they are wide open, broken glass lining the edges and ragged curtains blowing out. Most of the doors are hanging off their hinges, banging against the walls in the wind, and wooden containers that probably once contained fruit are strewn about the place.

Gusts of wind channel through the narrow street, kicking up sand from the ground.
I hear the voice again, followed by sobbing coughs.

It's coming from down the street, and I quietly walk to follow it.

The boy keeps sobbing, and I realize that he's much quieter now than he was before. A couple minutes ago, he was practically screaming.

Which makes me wonder.

"Hello?" I dare to call out in my scratchy voice.

The only response I get is more coughing.

It's coming from a wood and stone building, so I walk over to it and peer into the dark room, which is about twelve million degrees cooler than outside.

I tiptoe inside and wait for my eyes adjust to the darkness.

The room is empty other than drifts of sand piled up in the corners and one ragged old couch sitting face down on the floor. The wind blows against the building and a low groaning sound escapes from somewhere above. It seems like nobody has been here for ages.

I follow the sobbing noise up a set of extremely steep wooden stairs that crunch with each step I take to a second floor where I see nothing but a chipping door, more stairs and a strange piece of wood jutting out of the ceiling.

Thankfully the two windows are shuttered and look like they've been nailed closed.
"Is somebody there?"

I start at the sound of the shaky voice and take a moment to let my heart slow down before answering. "Yes, do you need help?"

Silence.

"Yes!"

I hurry over to the next staircase and am started when I arrive at the third floor.
There are massive holes in the ceiling, letting the sun and heat pour in, and enormous wooden beams have crashed to the floor, in some places cracking the walls and wood floor. One beam has gone all the way through, which explains the piece of wood from the ceiling on the floor below.