everything I was worth. I ran for fear and life and
selfishness. I ran for survival.
Streets
intersected, merged, developed into urban sprawl and finally laid way to high
rises and skyscrapers.
My
muscles began to cramp and knot, sending pain all through my body, and I was
forced to slow to a limp. I panted and heaved, but kept myself moving. I no
longer heard the dead. Windswept buildings cried above me. The utter silence,
the unnerving wheeze of empty city streets moaned in lonely defiance. A
crumbled piece of newsprint fluttered by, dragging itself along the asphalt.
I
crept up through wide, sprawling streets, through the decay that littered the
pavement; fell from desperate weeks gone by. Soft ash covered the asphalt,
swirling with dust devils that corrupted its rest.
I
held my breath as I tiptoed past the bodies; small spaces in between, allowing
me to step over the rotten foliage of death as I made my way through bullet
casings and spent magazines. From a barricade ahead, I could see the machine
guns mounted to concrete rails. Their exterior was showing signs of rust, worn
by weather, allowing images to play over in my mind of the massacre that must
have unfolded.
Police
cars and military vehicles blocked the way, parked in crisscross patterns to
defend the area beyond. Uniformed corpses graced the pavement like wilted
flowers, collected and discarded in haste by the folly of war. Rubble was
spread out along the sidewalks where it had rained down from buildings, burst
out from the seams.
All
I could concentrate on was the unnerving silence in these ruins. The absolute
quiet of it all, I felt like the last man standing. Sorrow is such a demanding
emotion.
High
above, I could see the bloated remains of a skyscraper, steel beams unfurled
from its interior like boney fingers, grasping at the clouds. In the dank
silence of the outer rim of the city, the building shivered and cracked. It was
a sound of temptation and sorrow; a sound like the weak, gasping for breath.
A
creature dangled from a window ledge above, caught upon the remnants of a
broken steel beam. It flailed in the air as if it had something in its sights.
It stared down at me and rasped in muted silence, too far away to project its
gruesome moan. I looked at it for some time, twisting thirty stories up,
swiping out as if I was within its reach.
I
was in awe as I stared at the crumbling buildings. I couldn’t imagine what kind
of bomb could have done this.
How
long? I wondered. How long will it dangle there? How long will the body move?
How long until it finally falls away to dust?
I
thought of how long it would be before the building finally came crashing down.
Would there be any one left to hear it fall?
I
glanced through the open door of a police cruiser at several snapshots taped to
the dash. Nestling myself into the driver’s seat, I pondered over the pictures
of children, smiling and happy. The fabric beneath me let out a cloud of dust
as I sat down. The wisps loosened between my legs and fluttered up toward the
window, peppering the photos of the children with specks of decay.
Time
was unforgiving.
When
I looked at the bodies that surrounded me, spent and sprawling on war torn
asphalt, the image of that atrocity who took my wife came traipsing into my
mind also. I cannot see one without the other. Where there are thoughts of my
wife, the putrid façade of that infectious death that swallowed her away from
me comes too. Where there is life there is also the promise of death to reclaim
it.
Before
leaving, I scoured the cruiser for ammo and any supplies I could find. I
wrapped the rounds in lengths of fabric I tore from the bodies on the ground. I
wrapped them to keep them quiet. I filled the extra clip for the pistol and
tucked it into my jacket pocket.
A
few blocks away, I discovered a camping supply store and nearly cried out in
joy. The windows in front were whole and undamaged. The contents inside
unspoiled.
Chapter
selfishness. I ran for survival.
Streets
intersected, merged, developed into urban sprawl and finally laid way to high
rises and skyscrapers.
My
muscles began to cramp and knot, sending pain all through my body, and I was
forced to slow to a limp. I panted and heaved, but kept myself moving. I no
longer heard the dead. Windswept buildings cried above me. The utter silence,
the unnerving wheeze of empty city streets moaned in lonely defiance. A
crumbled piece of newsprint fluttered by, dragging itself along the asphalt.
I
crept up through wide, sprawling streets, through the decay that littered the
pavement; fell from desperate weeks gone by. Soft ash covered the asphalt,
swirling with dust devils that corrupted its rest.
I
held my breath as I tiptoed past the bodies; small spaces in between, allowing
me to step over the rotten foliage of death as I made my way through bullet
casings and spent magazines. From a barricade ahead, I could see the machine
guns mounted to concrete rails. Their exterior was showing signs of rust, worn
by weather, allowing images to play over in my mind of the massacre that must
have unfolded.
Police
cars and military vehicles blocked the way, parked in crisscross patterns to
defend the area beyond. Uniformed corpses graced the pavement like wilted
flowers, collected and discarded in haste by the folly of war. Rubble was
spread out along the sidewalks where it had rained down from buildings, burst
out from the seams.
All
I could concentrate on was the unnerving silence in these ruins. The absolute
quiet of it all, I felt like the last man standing. Sorrow is such a demanding
emotion.
High
above, I could see the bloated remains of a skyscraper, steel beams unfurled
from its interior like boney fingers, grasping at the clouds. In the dank
silence of the outer rim of the city, the building shivered and cracked. It was
a sound of temptation and sorrow; a sound like the weak, gasping for breath.
A
creature dangled from a window ledge above, caught upon the remnants of a
broken steel beam. It flailed in the air as if it had something in its sights.
It stared down at me and rasped in muted silence, too far away to project its
gruesome moan. I looked at it for some time, twisting thirty stories up,
swiping out as if I was within its reach.
I
was in awe as I stared at the crumbling buildings. I couldn’t imagine what kind
of bomb could have done this.
How
long? I wondered. How long will it dangle there? How long will the body move?
How long until it finally falls away to dust?
I
thought of how long it would be before the building finally came crashing down.
Would there be any one left to hear it fall?
I
glanced through the open door of a police cruiser at several snapshots taped to
the dash. Nestling myself into the driver’s seat, I pondered over the pictures
of children, smiling and happy. The fabric beneath me let out a cloud of dust
as I sat down. The wisps loosened between my legs and fluttered up toward the
window, peppering the photos of the children with specks of decay.
Time
was unforgiving.
When
I looked at the bodies that surrounded me, spent and sprawling on war torn
asphalt, the image of that atrocity who took my wife came traipsing into my
mind also. I cannot see one without the other. Where there are thoughts of my
wife, the putrid façade of that infectious death that swallowed her away from
me comes too. Where there is life there is also the promise of death to reclaim
it.
Before
leaving, I scoured the cruiser for ammo and any supplies I could find. I
wrapped the rounds in lengths of fabric I tore from the bodies on the ground. I
wrapped them to keep them quiet. I filled the extra clip for the pistol and
tucked it into my jacket pocket.
A
few blocks away, I discovered a camping supply store and nearly cried out in
joy. The windows in front were whole and undamaged. The contents inside
unspoiled.
Chapter
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