Follow The Buzzards

I

Chicago 2024
"Follow the buzzards"
It's what the old folk use to say. They told me that if the signs were to show, I was to follow them. I never knew what that meant, I still don't.
My name is Ellie Vick.

I sit by the foot of my bed. My muddy, brown hair is a mess, my sleeves folded over my hands. The white shirt matched my pale skin. Cold from the harsh winter morning. I walked to my door, feeling a shiver as my foot met the cold floor. I made it down the steps to see I was alone. This was normal.

The steam from my warm coffee brushed against my face as I stood at the window looking at the empty streets. I felt a sense of peace for a moment. It wasn't long before i had my slippers on and I was out on the sidewalk in my pajamas.

I walked down the street in the rain. I was off to meet Dean. He was an old friend of mine. He had a similar upbringing. He understood me. His dad was an abusive alcoholic, like mine. He had to deal with many family problems, similar to ones I've faced. I don't think I'd hang around him if it wasn't for the fact that he understood my life.

By the time I reached his doorstep, the rain had stopped, I was soaked, and the sun shone through. The door was unlocked and I could tell his parents weren't around because the rusty truck out front was gone. I let myself in being greeted by a group of mice. Walking past his television monitor, I noticed the news was broadcasting more terrorist activities. These had become so common now that it was safety precaution to avoid big cities. I sipped my coffee and rain mixture while watching bodies be plucked from rubble at Empire State Building, or what was left of it. As the reporter began ranting on about the horrifying event, Dean had made it down the steps. I only noticed him because I heard the sound of his coat being zipped up. We look at each other. His dark hair ruffled up. We looked back to the broadcasting. No words were said. We headed for the door leaving the News on. I had forgotten my mug inside but I didn't care.

"How are your parents?" Dean questioned.

"I don't know, same as yours" I said.

Those were the first words spoken since we met that day. We were walking down the street silently, our elbows bumping into each other. We hadn't discussed where we were going, but I assume we were going to the usual place.

We approached the dark corner of the park by the old museum. It's where we always hung out. We'd stay there late and talk about our futures. We'd talk about how corrupt things have gotten since the last decade. We were both 15. When we were 5 things were good, then the attacks began. With a bonehead president, we couldn't do much rather than be sitting ducks. We'd talk about the friends we don't see anymore now that schools are shut down. Things were so different, our way of coping was to discuss it.
My foot splashed in the puddle by the old windowsill that I lean on. Dean was sitting against the rugged willow tree that hasn't changed since we were kids.

"So, why are people still around these parts if the bombers are after us?" Ellie said while throwing a stone at the brick wall of the museum.

I looked up at the sky as a buzzard flew past.

"They'd never attack a small town in Chicago, they're aiming for the busy places." Dean said, as he drew his attention to a shattered window along the side of the museum.

"Why haven't we ever explored this place? I mean, we've been meeting since we were kids." he asked.

I remembered back when my mom took my here, to the museum to meet Dean's mom. The museum was bright with red bricks, the willow tree stood just as strong as it still does. I snapped back to reality to see Dean propping a log against the window to climb through. I didn't argue and I followed him.
We both stood side by side looking into a large, empty room. The air was thick with dust.

"Now what?" I questioned, coughing from the dust.

Dean grinned as he marched down the hall to a ladder. For some reason, I felt the need to follow him. I trusted him and that whatever he had in mind would be the only fun I'd have since the time I stole my mom's beers from her hiding place. By the time I reached the ladder, I looked up to see his muddy sneakers disappear in the dust. I climbed fast enough to see him pry open a door that let in a strong beam of light. We both rubbed our eyes and walked into the light. We were on the roof. Dean took my hand and he took me to the edge where we looked over our town.

We stood there smiling. Something about seeing our cesspool of a town in a beam of light gave us hope that things would change. Dean let go of my hand when he jolted from the flutter of the same buzzard sitting on the guard railing to his right. Out of no where we heard shouting from a deep voice. A man in uniform ordered us to get down. It was one of the soldiers on patrol.

Things have gotten very strict around the states after a few attacks were in the history books. We made our way down as fast as our tired legs could. We exited out the same window we came from just to be pinned to floor with a officer's knee crushing my neck. I saw Dean get hit in the leg with a baton as he was tougher to tackle down. After we were searched and our ID's were checked, we were driven home in a squad car.