The Grid Runner

Chapter Three

It took him longer to get back than it should have. Zan navigated through the dark tunnels and dimly lit pathways as fast as he could, stumbling at times and having to second guess a few jumps.

Entering his neighbourhood, he climbed down the bronze statue and looked out over the dull rooftops in the eerie gloom. Everything was so quiet. Only his movements and heavy breaths told him he could still hear.

A few indistinct people walked through the streets, but Zan ignored his neighbours. As he ran up to his house he called out for his da.

Zan burst through the door and called out again. The quiet, whispering house was his only response. Maybe his da had gone out looking for him. Zan had expected to find him helping the neighbours, handing out flashlights and generally trying to calm everyone. That's the kind of guy his da was.

"Da! You here?" he called out, reaching the kitchen. Nothing. "Da!" he cried, his voice cracking.

He took the stairs two at a time, pushing his da's bedroom door open. Nothing looked out of place, from what he could see in the cold darkness. Everything was still so, so quiet. Zan checked his own room, just to see. He paused when he looked in. A low wind whistled from the hole in his window, the curtains billowing and knocking lazily against the wall. Shattered glass glinted by the window, on his bed, over his drawers, everywhere. Zan swallowed, his throat seizing up.

He rushed back down and went through the hall to the living room at the back.

Reaching the doorway, he skidded through broken wood on the floor and froze. His heart pounded in his chest as he inched closer to the threshold. Through the dim light he first saw the overturned sofa, littered with papers, broken machine parts, and shattered glass. He stepped in and saw the debris was everywhere, like a wind tunnel had opened up in the room. A heavy chill ran through him. He wanted to call out for his da again but had no voice left.

The large window on the opposite wall was shattered. The back garden, and the town beyond, was dark and threatening. He thought he heard some muffled, concerned voices outside, maybe some he recognised, but his focus was on the room.

Then he saw him. Behind an overturned table, a pair of legs stuck out.

Zan rushed to him, crunching on glass and knocking away broken furniture. His da lay there, blood splattered over his shirt. Zan dropped beside him, frozen, shivering, not knowing what to do. Herrik's shirt was partially opened, showing a fleshy hole in his stomach, oozing blood. Two more bloodstains covered him, holes torn into his shirt. His face was turned away, eyes closed.

Da.... Da.... The words never left Zan. He was too afraid to touch him, to shake him, not believing what was happening. He raised a shivering hand, barely knowing what he was doing, and touched his da's shoulder. He was still warm. He still felt like his da.

Spurned on from the contact, Zan burst to life, grabbing his da with both hands and shaking him. "DA!" he finally cried out, adrenaline giving him strength. "DA!"

With a frustrated grunt he lifted his da up, bringing him under a knee and turning his face towards him. He looked peaceful, like he was sleeping. Zan's fingers ran over heavy stubble, tracing the lines of his weathered face. He was sleeping. But, he was gone.

He was gone.

Tears burst from Zan's clenched eyes, his face twisting with uncontrollable grief. He dropped his head, resting against his da's neck. He breathed in his warm, musky, sweaty scent. He wanted to breathe him all in. Sobbing quietly, Zan lay there.

Crunching glass brought him back to the world.

Zan paused, his head still lowered, and listened out. Movement came from beyond the room. Shifting debris, heavy footsteps slowly moving through the hallway.