When We Suffer

Chapter one

How To Disappear Completely • Radiohead

Andrey stood at the edge of the tall abandoned building closing his eyes and concentrating on the chilled breeze on his face. The wind danced in and out of his copper-orange curls making them flicker about in an unorganized manner. The collar of his green jacket was turned up by the back of his neck and he had stuffed his hands deep into his pockets. He had a slight slouch in his shoulders and he occasionally tapped his foot to the music constantly playing from his earbuds. Since no one was around to judge, Andrey took his dark sunglasses off and lightly cleaned them before folding and tucking them in his grey t-shirt.

The world before him was slain and cracking. A grey haze floated above the crumbling buildings. The dark smoke of death issued from small pinpricks below where something had just been destroyed in flame or explosion. The scent of death lingered at the very back of every breath the boy took. His expressionless olive-green eyes scanned the never ending land of turmoil around him. He sighed. He was tired. He wanted to go home, though there was no such place during this time in the world.

The boy climbed back down the debris of each story in the building until he reached the last bit of intact stairs which brought him down to the earth's surface. He put his sunglasses back on, though there was no bright rays to be protected from. He walked alone with his hands in his pockets. He blankly stared ahead at the grey, dead path he had been taking.

"Hey red-head kid!" A man's voice with a slight Brooklyn accent called out from the silence of the world in pain.

Andrey looked around for the source of the sound and saw the man that spoke poking his head out from an alleyway that had been partially crumbled. The red-head kid just stared at the man knowing nothing good could come of his call.

"This place is dangerous, I gotta a way out of here by a van carrying civilians- it's not with the government, don't worry." The man said emerging from the rubble and approaching our red-head kid. The man wore old denim jeans with a dark shirt and a worn flannel. He didn't look the profile of anyone dangerous, he was shortish, had a grandpa-like mustache, and a flat cap.

Andrey knew better than to trust people but he did need a way out of this dead land desperately and figured he had not much to lose anyways. "What is the cost?" He asked, his Russian accent coming out uncontrollably.

"The driver's taking cash or supplies in return for the ride," the man said.

Andrey stared ahead contemplating his options. The man seemed to take his stare as a 'yes' and told him the directions to the bus before leaving to look for other stragglers. Once the man was out of sight Andrey quietly followed his instructions and found the old white bus on a small street.

There actually were a few people by the bus, mostly beaten and lone people who were desperate to get away from the dead city. The driver was collecting faded green bills from a woman with bright red hair and many piercings. The driver was about the same height as Andrey though bulkier and with lots of angles on his form like a solid caricature. His skin was tanned and he wore an old leather jacket over a white shirt and denim. The man spotted Andrey and looked him up and down before nodding his head up and raising his eyebrows asking for payment.

Andrey lightly sighed and walked to the bus while pulling some of his cash from his jacket pocket. He kept it hidden in his hand so the driver wouldn't know the amount. "How much?" Andrey asked quietly, not to keep anyone from hearing but to match the levels of emphasis his surroundings were giving.

"How much you got?" The man roughly said while nodding at Andrey's cash filled palm.

"Depends upon how much you need," our red-head said, with an air of a child trying to be a street smart adult.