The City in the Sky

ch. 2

Your feet hit the ground on the other side and pain shoots up your legs. You collapse against the cold asphalt. But the pain is nothing compared to the terror. Your body feels cold all over as your heart continues to pound against your chest. You hold your breath, and your lungs cry out in agony. After a moment, the bile begins to rise in your throat. You roll over onto your side and vomit.

After the retching subsides, you feel a little better. The creature still looms on the other side of the gap, screeching furiously, but you are safe.  Then you realize how lucky you are. You came too close. You should be dead. You have to get out of here, before the thing draws attention. Numb and still in shock, you turn your back on it and start to limp the next half mile to the city. You hope the monsters don't come back...

You still don't know where they came from, or what they are. No one knows where they come from, or how they got here. They just sort of... appeared. The first one was found in Cincinnati in July. By that evening, the city had been overrun. By the end of the week, Ohio had fallen. At first we thought that they were invaders, something out of a horror film. It wasn't until the United States declared a state of martial law in September that we realized it was a plague. You thought your city would be spared. They told you that the CDC would find a cure, and that the soldiers would protect you from the monsters.

They were wrong.

By December, you were all alone. Your father, being a doctor, was the first to fall victim to the plague. Then your mother became sick, and last your baby sister. No one knows why you didn't fall ill. You saw the symptoms first hand - a fever, followed by chills. Within 24 hours, a rash formed on their skin, and they began to cough. Then the skin began to peel away, revealing the white flesh beneath. But it was not white like marble or porcelain. It was the palid white of dead, rotting things and things that have never seen the light of day. It was only a matter of hours before they no longer recognized you and you were nothing but food to them. They crawled on the ground like animals, their rabid teeth gnashed greedily at you as they thrashed against their bonds. You had no choice but to leave them, and to lock the door tightly behind you with a note to warn anyone else who might come looking.

You hoped that life would get easier. That if you were just able to push the pain away, then you wouldn't have to deal with it anymore. You hoped that it would be liberating to not feel tied to anyone, to not have to worry constantly about another's safety. But you were wrong. It wasn't freeing, it was lonely. When the nightmares began to haunt you, there was no one left to cling to. If you fell victim to the monsters, there would be no one to tell your story or weep at your grave. You wouldn't have a grave. In this strange, apocalyptic world, you were anonymous. You were no one. But you made the best of it. You learned to scavenge what you could from the dead, taking care not to look at their horrible, inhuman faces. You taught yourself how to make fires that wouldn't be seen from the ground, and you took to the rooftops. Over time, you became as nimble as a gymnast, and as cautious as a mouse. You were a survivor.

Over time, you managed to find others: a widow in Fresno; a 16 year old boy hiding in a closet in (insert city); a middle aged man, rough and ragged from working the fields outside Ripon; a young mother and her baby in (insert city); a videogame developer from Oakland who had been visiting family in (insert city). The developer - Isaac - said he had heard San Fransisco was safe. As safe as the world could be, anyway. They'd found a way to live with the monsters, to keep society alive. So you made your way to Frisco. You never told anyone about the papers in your bag - your father's notes on the creatures, the one thing you'd taken from him becore you left. Looking back, it wouldn't have mattered; the only ones to make it were you and Manolo, the laborer.

You and Monolo grew close over your trip. You learn a lot about him. He is from Oaxaca, but he became a citizen when he was 21. He has his master's in architecture; no one would hire a wetback. His daughters are both grown and married now... He hopes they are alright. He listens to you, too, when you tell him about your family. You don't tell him about the end, only the good thi gs. The end is still too pai ful, and you have learned it's better not to feel. Despite that, by the time you have reached the city, you have come to depend on each other.

...

You climb the first stack of cars carefully, always aware that the wrong movement could dislodge one of them, leaving you crushed and the city exposed. You are grateful to be away from the beasts, at least, but you are still trembling. The city isn't what you had expected when you first came, the thriving (if dystopian) world above the sea of monsters and refuse. It is quiet now, abandoned apart from a few bands of scavengers who make their homes among the rooftops here and there. Makeshift walls and bridges line the roads. They are made from cars stacked 3 high one on top of the other, dumpsters filled in with cement, abandoned semi trucks and any other tall objects. Between tall buildings are bridges made of old doors lashed together with cable, copper wire, rope and tattered clothing. Anything strong enough to hold the weight of a person. When the demons first came, this is how humanity had attempted to survive. Humans rarely ventured outside after that, and when they did, they clung to the skies, high up above the demons. Although they were inhumanly fast, strong, silent and impossible to fight, the things were not excellent climbers, nor could they jump. To ehat is left of you, it is well known that though the ground meant suicide, the skies were a haven.