I couldn’t have stopped it, couldn’t have stopped the carnage that had enveloped the fields that day; death had swept down upon us like a vengeful troop of horsemen on the wings of devils.  That was a long time ago though, a place that not only spanned a distance in my memory, but also in thousands of miles.  I shook my head, trying to dispel the cobwebs that settled over a person whenever the shadows of the past begin to writhe forth from their slumber, within the crags of the mind.  Such things are necessary to keep locked away where they belong, especially with the world turning as it is today. 

            Slowly I rose to my feet, the tiny hairs along the back of my neck quivering with the tremulous apprehension of the knowledge that there was something lurking nearby.  Rising slowly was necessary, since anything quicker would have immediately drawn something with my movements.  The flighty breeze suddenly danced through the branches of the flowering bushes around me, bringing with it a sweet scent of the berries, but it was the underlying stench that set my hackles on edge.  I began to shrink down and nestle into the wet ferns, feeling the cold dampness of the mud soaking into the knees of my pants.  My heart was beginning to quicken; something was not right, something was tainted about that stench that was tickling its way into my nostrils.

            It couldn’t have been far away, but it wasn’t that close either, so I steeled myself and did a mental tap of the place.  Slowly I stilled my mind and made it into something beyond itself, settling into the trees, into the water, bubbling up and over the pine scrub and rocks, circumventing outward into ever widening circles until my awareness was all encompassing.  There, I’d found it, the source of the awful scent.  Now that I was closer to it, even just in my mind, the smell slammed into me with such force I almost went reeling back into myself, the choking scent of charred meat and rotted blood.  I steadied myself, careful not to brush this creature, this foul thing, lest it become aware of me.  Since I could only feel in this state, I carefully began to outline this thing, close enough to feel its shape but still careful not to touch it.  I could feel coarse, sharp bristles, matted thickly with dried blood, rot, and other hideous things, all clumped onto thick, muscular legs.  They were short, powerful things that rose into a hump at the back, and tapered into a narrow waste.  I went up along the back, holding my breath, feeling the hard snub nose and massive mandibles, with long, vicious blades rising up and out from the mouth.  Hot, wet breath reeking horribly came down upon my face, and I could almost see the fire leaping from its eyes, the pure rage that was surging through very fiber of this creature.  I began to draw away from the raw power that was pulsating in the air, radiating outward from the animal, from the malevolence that was in each rippling muscle.

            As I pulled myself away, gathered all of my awareness and began to pull back into myself, I could feel the creature slowly turn it’s head to me, and instantly I froze.  It took a step toward me, snuffled the air in front of it deeply, and seemed to be searching for something that it had suddenly become aware of.  Cursing myself for stopping, I began to pull again, faster this time, knowing in my gut that stopping my retreat had most certainly alerted the thing to my presence.  An earth rumbling bellow rent the air and shook the rocks under my hands and knees; alarmed I pulled back into myself at full speed and slammed back into my mind.  My head reeled from the sudden intrusion of two separate sensory views, and I fell onto my back, clamped my eyes shut and focused on making the world stable again. 

            Another bellow, closer this time, and I lurched to my feet and immediately crouched down again.  Fear was a metallic taste in my mouth, I swallowed instinctively, my hand flexing around the handle of the machete strapped to my thigh, and I quickly checked for the crossbow secured to my back.  The crossbow long outlived my rifle, which I had had to discard once the ammo ran out.  The crossbow was the best weapon I had, it offered enough firepower for what I needed and I could make more bolts for it, since bullets for the guns that everyone had so zealously hoarded at the offset, were now hard to come by these days, and mostly impossible to find.  So it was best to stick to hand to hand weapons and save the bigger fire power when it was absolutely necessary.  I checked for the bag that was buckled to my hips and lower back, and plucked the galvanized spear that I had designed when I’d found myself down one too many dark alleys, and reoriented myself to the spot where I was.  I could feel the tremors through the mud beneath my feet, ripple through the air and the trunks of the trees, tickling the rocks at their cores.  It was the creature; it was searching for me, but had lost me with my sudden retreat.  I mentally tapped in the direction where I had found it, and felt that it’s attention was moving west of where I currently was. 

            Relieved, I set my spear down and stretched my arms up and out, letting my hands trace the green mossy Old Man’s Beard dangling in tendrils, that grew in moist, cool climates.  I liked, needed, to touch things in my surroundings, as often as I could, delighting in their elements, familiarizing myself to their crags and crannies, for my ability is a very tactile one.  If I did not know the area from which I was projecting, I would not be able to feel with such clarity, nor be able to launch myself into further outreaches.  When I come to an unknown place, it becomes shadowy and intangible; it is something with much force that is able to thrust itself out of such obscurity and make itself known.  Like that creature.  Uneasy, I brought my hands back to me and looked down at them, flexing the fingers, stretching the tendons.  There was something terribly wrong about it, about the entire situation.  I shook the feeling that was settling into my bones, the feeling of a discordant note deliberately plucked within the sweetness of a summer melody.  This would not do. 

            With a quickness of a cat I snatched my spear up and holstered it crossways to my bow on my back and hopped up to the branch of the tree nearest me.  It was an old oak, unperturbed by my rude appearance, which is why I always appreciated an oak in such circumstances.  Hand over hand I climbed up till I was midway up the vast trunk and began to make my way towards the false horizon, made up decades ago by the staggered outline of old, fallen cities that could not stand under the weight of man’s desires.  The sun was just beginning to crown the tops of these old monuments to times gone by, just as I reached the perimeter of the colony.  It was actually quite difficult to tell at first, turn the head just right, trick of the eye, it was hard to make sure I was there, until a knife was pressed coolly yet firmly to my throat.  Then the hazy outlines of strange buildings, circular and formed out of living, organic matter, materialized itself.  I held up my hand to the strange green light that was emanating from tissues of these strange structures, and slowly an image began to appear, serpentine and tribal, the design traced down the back of my hand, frittered around my wrist, and came to rest in a geometric design of a circle in the middle of two interlocking squares at my palm. 

            “Ah, good lass, glad ye could make it, getting a bit dark for your shenanigans this eve though, don’t yer think?”  Slowly the blade was pulled away from my neck and I turned to the guard that had stopped me, smiling an impish grin at my lover, longtime friend and husband. 

            “Ah babe, think you might like the other shenanigans I have up my sleeve tonight for you a bit better.”  He threw his head back and laughed, his sharp, roguish features darkly animated in the lowering light.  He shot a look at the guard that was perched in some of the higher branches that was posted with him, who just waggled his eyebrows at us and continued his vigilance.

            Suddenly things began to shimmer, colors began to run together like a painting that had been touched by the rain.  A pulsing thrum began in the distance, then became louder, and everything began to pull away and shrink like looking down a tunnel, and suddenly I felt myself fall, like I had fallen back into myself again.  Slowly I opened my eyes, darkness enveloping me.  Letting my eyes adjust, I tentatively reached out a hand and touched a warm, strong arm, and I gave it a gentle squeeze.  A soft murmur came through the darkness, a rustling of sheets, and then the arm was enveloping me and pulling me close against a warm, firm body.  I snuggled into the warmth, kissed the hand that had gently settled into cupping my breast.  Slowly the shape of a vintage dresser, all gentle curves and cast iron knobs materialized, a vanity standing in the corner, the accordion door in front of the closet, then the sheer curtains gently undulating in each puff of breeze coming through the open window.  Everything was a bit more worn now, everything older, and despite the amount of furniture polish I used, or the amount of sanding and fresh coats of paint, nothing could stand up to the inexorable march of time.  Not to mention that everything that was touched by the air these days seemed to age, seemed to show a certain tiredness.  Even the walls of our bedroom, once a bright lilac, had faded to a steel gray, no matter how much care I gave it. 

            He smiled at me, shifting his weight onto his arm so that he was partly on me, pausing as his eyes traced along each feature of my face.  His eyes tasted me, and I quivered slightly under the delicate nature of it.  Gently he took the side of my face and rubbed his thumb along my temple, his eyes resting once more on mine.

“Do you know how much you mean to me, sweetness?”  he whispered gently in the quiet stillness of the night.  I took his head in my hands and raised my head slightly, kissing his forehead, tasting the salt on my lips.  He nuzzled his face into my neck and I held him to me.  “I love you.” I felt whispered against my skin.

“I love you too.”  I said quietly back to him, and I could feel his muscles slowly begin to relax against me, could feel his awareness slowly turn into itself as his mind prepared for sleep.  My heart began to hum to itself, beating a soft, low melody, the same as it always did when I was in the presence of this man.  He always found it amusing when I explained to him that he made my heart sing, but quite frankly, there was really no other way for me to put it.  I let myself begin to fade into sleep, my mind turning to the dream that I had first woken from with that first bout of sleep.  This was always a good way to keep such things at bay, and was always something that I had immensely enjoyed, however, nothing was strong enough to keep away torments of the mind.  Slowly I turned myself from it again, and let myself sleep.

The next morning I could feel the light whisper of the gray light of early morning dance along my skin, trickling in through the white sheer curtains.  The covers had gotten themselves pushed to the end of the bed in the middle of the night, and my skin prickled in the coolness of the air.  Slowly I rose and walked over to the closet, pulling open the accordion door and pulling out a plush, black robe and slipping it on over myself.  I turn slightly, looking at the flickering curtain, and make my way over to the window.  It was a sliding door really, meant to allow the occupants to come out on the balcony outside and enjoy the views of an innercity urban landscape.  Just outside the window now though were only jutting stone remnants of the beautiful balcony, made of a gray stone  made to resemble marble.  But now it was sheered off juttings of rock, cracks snaking across the remaining surfaces, all the patio furniture and potted plants either littered and destroyed across the surface or catapulted to the ground below.  It was naturally no longer safe to go out onto the balcony, and we no longer had the money or the resources to fix it.  No one in the city could repair any of the damages that their homes had suffered during the bombings, the raids, manifestations of a war with many distant countries.  The city was teetering on the border of order and mayhem, the political powers laughable, for everyone could feel it in the air, the tang of the coming of complete and total anarchy. 

Taking a step closer to the door, my eyes trace the haggard skyscrapers, now black and galvanized gray; damages from the fires that had ravaged the city and had only been put out about a month ago.  Now the horizon was edged with an eerie red glow, a dark grey haze skirting the bottom of the glow.  Centuries ago the city had originated as a small coal miner’s town, nothing more than a smattering of shanties, and had eventually grown and evolved into the beast that it was at it’s former glory.  Naturally the coal that laid dormant and undisturbed had faded from everyone’s minds until the bombing, which had created an epidemic of fires raging through the city.  They could not be put out, the coal underground kept them burning, but after exhausting its funds and resources, the city had eventually gained control of it.  However, the ominous red glow on the outskirts filled me with trepidation and unease, and I quickly turned away and back into the tiny security that our home offered. 

The smells of coffee and bacon entered my nose just then, making me feel warm and tingly, solidifying the feeling of security and hominess.  I gently push the bedroom door open and pad my way through the living room and into the kitchen, where Brennan, my husband’s back was to me, as he steadfastly worked on breakfast.  He was always the cook, while I did dishes and general cleaning, still being able to lead a balanced domestic lifestyle in the madness that surrounded us.  I smile, watching the muscles flex and release across his shoulders and down his arms, took in the pleasing lines of his legs and bum.  His was a lean, aesthetic strength, not a large man, and could easily be mistaken for skinny when wearing clothing.  He had two piercings in one ear and one in the other, and used to keep his hair swinging at waist length, but life these days made that impractical, so he now kept his red brown hair cropped close to his skull.  One of the cats, my chubby girl, bounced up onto the counter and proceeded trying to nose around in the food that was already cooked and ready to go, making him huff and sweep her off the counter.  She squawked loudly and tried to jump back up, he nudged her back with his foot, but she was persistent as any cat, so he picked up her prodigious bulk and ruffled her head, and proceeded to meow loudly at her in the same fashion.  She stopped and stared at him, stopping her mewling and viewing him with disdain at his attempts.  She squirmed and he let her down, shaking his head and muttering.  I smile at the scene, and feel something rub against my leg. I look down and see a much larger cat, sleek, and muscular, standing next to my leg, barely touching me, also looking at the scene of man and cat.  He then turns and looks up at me with large, baleful yellow eyes, like two lanterns, gives my leg a gentle head butt, then proceeds over to Brennan.  This cat says nothing, merely waits knowing that his presence will be felt and attended to, content to just be near the people he loves.  He then proceeds over to the food bowls in the far corner of the kitchen and stares down at them, like if he does this long enough, fresh food and water will magically appear.  Which it does of course, by way of Brennan or I.  I walk over and take some kibble from the tub in the pantry and fill the bowl, then head over to the fridge and add a bowl containing milk and another containing some canned mackerel and set it on their placemat.  With a happy yowl, the large cat eagerly tucked in to his feast. 

Brennan has noticed me and prowls to me with his feline walk, setting my heart to a flutter, and wraps me in his arms.  I smile up at him and stretch up a bit to kiss him on the lips.  I can feel him smile against my lips and he hugs me at the waist.

“Babe, I made some breakfast.” He says, and playfully nips at my lips, and slips away to tend the eggs.  I follow him and give his bum a squeeze, reaching past him to grab some dishes and proceed to set the table.

“Thanks for breakfast, it smells wonderful!” I say, reaching into the fridge to grab some homemade blackberry juice. 

“You’re welcome sweet, you know how I like to take care of us.  Besides, I figured you could use a nice breakfast after last night.  How you woke up in the middle of the night I mean.”  He says, winking suggestively.  I nodded, as I wiped blackberry juice from the lip of a glass and proceed to lick it off my finger.  Whispers of the dream from the previous night come back, the field of a massacre, living as a warrior in a tree village, some odd post-apocalyptic land.  And that boar…such savagery and menace, the sheer power of the animal…even now, just remembering it sends shivers down my spine.

 “You okay?”  he asks, kissing the top of my head as he slides by and sets some hash browns on the kitchen table.  We set the last of the items on the table and settle down, getting ready to tuck into the food.

“Yeah, sorry, its just that the dream was so strange.  Yet it was so familiar, and everything about it is so WRONG.  I can’t explain it but I can’t seem to shake it.”  He nods, giving my thigh a reassuring squeeze while chewing on some eggs.

“Wanna talk about it?”

I give him the story of the dream, the strange ability I had, where I was in a forest outside of the city, and that terrible boar hunting for something.  As I spoke Brennan’s face clouded, his brow furrowing. 

“I thought that the dreams had all but stopped after we got married a couple of years ago.  When did they start again?”

“Probably around the time of the fires, after they began to smolder underground along the outside of the city.  Almost a month ago.  This is the first time that I saw the boar though.  The field.  I feel I’ve been to that field before.”

“There was a field where all of those people were killed in that radical program that was used to try to prevent the spread of the outbreak of Ebola.” 

“No.  That’s not it.  Whatever it is I think it hasn’t happened yet.  Yet it is closely linked to something that has long past.”  I shake my head in frustration; I was talking in riddles, something I hated doing but something that these dreams always forced me into. 

“Ah babe, I don’t mean to be cryptic, its just these dreams! I hate them!” I almost shrieked with my frustration.  I thought I had finally been free of them when I met Brennan, they had almost stopped, and now with the country spiraling out of control, they were back.

“Don’t worry sweetheart, we’ll get through this.  Just because they’re back doesn’t mean that there is doing to be some portent of doom.”  He proceeded to clean up his plate, stood and came over to me, then crouched beside me, taking my hands in his.  Bringing them to his lips, he gently kissed them.

“We’ll get through this.”

 

            It was very dark inside the drainpipe, water dripped from above, echoing in the impenetrable darkness.  She had come here out of desperation, driven by a need to survive as she had been chased to the ends of the earth by the creatures that now raged through the land.  Ever since the breakdowns of the nuclear reactors people and animals alike had become contaminated to some extent, varying in different degrees of mutations and illnesses.  A tear trickled down the girls’ cheek and she wiped at it furiously.  It didn’t matter that she no longer had anyone in the world that meant her any kindness, that everyone she had ever known had succumbed to the filth that surrounded them.  She could get through, she would get through, and she would take the world by the throat doing it. 

            She ran her hand through her short matted hair, cringing at the greasy state of it.  She used to be meticulous in her appearance, though she was only thirteen, she still had had a very grounded sense of who she was and what she wished to project to the world.  Suddenly there was a sound, a soft scraping, like someone was walking along in the depths further down the drainpipe.  Instinctively the girl began to pull away, glancing behind her to the way that she came, daylight barely visible at the end like looking down the middle of a gun barrel.  The only way that she had survived for so long was running and dodging, hiding from the things that prowled that were so much bigger than she was.  Instead she fished around in the knapsack that she kept strapped to her hips, trying to be quick and at the same time trying to work silently.  Her fingers stopped and wrapped around an object made of round shapes and straps, and eagerly pulled it loose of the contents of her bag.  Quickly she took the night vision goggles and strapped them to her head, turning everything around her a neon green.  Very distorting, but at least she could be able to see if there was anything in here with her. 

            Her heart began to hammer loudly in her ears, as she heard the scraping noise again.  Looking around, her eyes took in the shapes of a large panel built onto the wall to her left, with wires and pipes running up the wall and along the ceiling, with a large metal bin to her right.  A little farther down the right wall there was a doorway, but from this angle and distance she could not tell what lay beyond it.  Straight ahead though the drainpipe continued onward, eventually curving off to the left, and she was pretty certain that was the direction that the scraping noise was coming from.  Quickly, with light easy footsteps, she darted towards the doorway to her right; there was no way that she could head back out the way she had come, there was a nasty battle going on between two rival gangs and she would much rather keep going to see what lay on the other side of this pipe.  When she had first run inside, she had looked up before disappearing into the earth, and made a mental note that it was a pipe that led up into a massive hydro power dam. 

            With this in mind as she went through the doorway, she took in the hallway that she had entered, with a stairway going up to her left, and the hallway dead ending in a room at the end.  There was another room that branched off to the left of the hallway, and part of her battled with the urge to investigate and see what lay in those rooms.  That was yet another thing that had enabled her survival; scavenging for whatever she could find, which was how she had stumbled on the night vision goggles that were currently proving so useful.  Part of her wondered if the electricity was still running in this part of the state, but the practical part told her not to try, for it would surely shout her presence to whatever else was in the dam with her.  Quickly she darted over to the room that branched to the left, unable to convince herself to go to the room at the end and box herself in so ultimately.  Inside looked like it was a workroom with nothing of great import, some tools, electrical machines that ran the power on this level of the dam, nothing that she felt would be useful.  The scraping noise came again, sounding close enough to be around the bend in the main part of the drainpipe.  Swallowing her fear and the urge to scavenge in the last room, she quickly darted out of the room and scampered up the stairs that led up into the next level.  Her hope was that whatever was now below her would just continue on it’s way, and hopefully that would lead it in the opposite direction of wherever she was.

            Coming to the top of the stairway, she again took in her surroundings, her eyes taking everything in with the quick accuracy of one who exists being the hunted.  There was a giant machine backed up against the wall, all giant pumps and pipes, wires snaking up its length, guarded by a chain link fence ringing its girth.  A gate stood at the front with a padlock and chain, the chain snapped and dangling sadly from its post.  Along the wall and up the ceiling were more of the pipes, and a door stood at the far end of the massive room.  It was large and made of steel, and had had a bar that had slid down across its front, securing it closed to the wall.  When she squinted though, the door looked damaged.  She shuddered slightly, looking up to the metal catwalk that ran the length of the top of the room, noticing a doorway leading off to the right on the upper level.  On the wall opposite the giant machine, was a network of television monitors, at one time they must have shown the people that worked there everything that happened in most of the rooms that were important to them.  The only thing way that she could see that was available to her was the steel door on the other side of the room to the left, the steel one that looked to have something wrong with it. 

            Again the fear began to tickle at her, apprehension trickled up along her back, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.  She had an uneasy feeling that she had heard the scraping noise below her, going through the rooms that she had made a quick scan of.  With light footsteps, she quickly made her way to the steel door, and as she got closer she noticed that it was actually barely being held up by its hinges, the bar that locked it bent and twisted, a massive dent at the point where it met with the wall.  She almost gasped as she saw the damage done to the steel, momentarily feeling panic that there had been something within these walls at one point that could cause such damage to something so strong.  Pushing her fear aside, she quickly climbed over the bent remains and did a quick scan of the room that she now found herself in.  Again it was another hallway, a stairway leading straight up in front of her, with a room to her right, and a solid wall to her left. 

            As usual she headed into the room on her right, determined to scavenge and leave nothing behind that could end up being useful to her.  Before her there was a desk, plain and utilitarian, with a couple of filing cabinets along the walls, and some maps of the plant lined up on the wall behind the desk.  She fell upon the desk and began pulling open drawers, searching its contents, then moved on to the filing cabinets, then got on her knees and checked under the furniture, in the hopes that something may have rolled underneath.  There were some candy bars, some old magazine pages and burger wrappers, but nothing that could aid her.  She wasn’t sure why she kept travelling farther into the dam, why she was running from a scraping noise that she hadn’t heard with any great consistency.  Really there was no reasoning, just pure instinct to keep going, to keep searching, to keep living.  That was when she heard it, the scraping sound!  It was right outside the door now in the hallway, and panic flooded her, and anger, anger at herself for being so careless and not having kept her guard up!  Momentarily she was confused though, she could have sworn that she had been listening, had been on guard, yet whatever it was had come so silently upon her!

            She dove under the desk, again cursing to herself, about how poor a hiding place this was, and how surely and quickly she would be found, and perhaps be destroyed by what she now was sure was stalking her.  She had no real weapons, nothing but a crowbar and a giant industrial flashlight that she had found along the way, which is one reason why she preferred to run, for she could not hold her own in a fight.  The crowbar was reassuring in her hand though as she pulled it from where she had it strapped to her back, and she crouched and waited, straining with every fiber to hear, to keep her muscles ready to move.  The sound happened again, again right outside in the hallway; whatever it was had paused in its forward progress, as if listening to see if she would give herself away within.  She lowered herself closer to the ground to where the desk rested, about half an inch between it and the floor, and she strained to see if there was anything she could make out standing in the doorway.  There was nothing that she could see, which was both a relief and maddening, for she had no idea what this thing was.  Then slowly the scraping moved on from the doorway, onward up the stairway, one shuffling stair at a time, until she couldn’t hear it anymore. 

            Slowly she slid out from under the desk and let go of the breath that she had been holding without realizing it, and hugged the crowbar to her chest.  With careful footsteps she made her way over to the door, and peaked around the corner, seeing nothing, no sinister shapes, but there was a type of footstep left in the dust on the floor.  It seemed that whatever it was was dragging itself along, and it was hard to tell if it had two feet or four, or even what shape they were.  Using this moment to her advantage, she went back to the wall with the map and decided to stop wandering blindly and see if she could find a way out of this maddening maze.  She didn’t know if she would even make it out at that rate, so she found where she was currently and traced all of the paths radiating out from where she was.  None of the paths ended easily or quickly, but she traced the stairway that was just outside and followed to where it led, and found that at least it would lead her out the other way.  Thankful for her photographic memory, she memorized the turns, and hoped that the darkness wouldn’t disorient her too much to the point of rendering her memory useless.  Turning back to the doorway, she steeled herself, and walked back out to the hallway once more.  Back to following the thing that had preceded her.

 

   

            “Don’t you ever want to have kids someday though?  Surely you and Brennan have thought about it, Emma!”  Sam flicked her long, chocolate brown hair as she said this, taking a sip of her latte as they sat at the outdoor café.  The sun had been out that day, warm and gentle, bringing out the lighter swirls of her highlights.  A gentle breeze flitted about them, and Emma shrugged, swirling the contents of her macchiato.  Back then, her coworkers were always bringing up the subject, as if it was something that had to be done simply because she was born with the organs to be able to do it.  She couldn’t blame them though, such was the nature of those around her.

            “Neither one of us has ever felt the need to have them.  We just have different goals in life, is all.”  She would answer them nonchalantly, never feeling the slightest twinge of regret. 

            Now, years later and worlds apart from where she had sat that day, she still didn’t yearn for children, but she did occasionally wish for those friends again, or sometimes her mind would linger on the neighbor girl that used to stop by for a friend, for guidance.  She would be about thirteen years old now, and Emma wondered vaguely where the chaos of the years had taken her. 

            Shrugging, she went to the bedroom that was next to their own, one that they had converted into a small solarium in an effort to start their own garden.  She and Brennan had always had aspirations to one day break away from the city and find a home in the woods, with some acreage, and start their very own little homestead.  The thought was to have some sheep, a couple of pigs, ducks, geese, and a garden to grow all their own vegetables.  A couple of trees would be planted that would grow fruits and nuts, in an effort to be able to get away from the chemical laden foods that were provided by the large industrial companies that now controlled what they all ate.  And people wondered where all of the rampant cancers came from, was it really that hard to connect the dots to the toxins that infiltrated everything from food to beauty products.  Such was their dream, they even would go out on excursions to the countryside and gather their own food, going to the extent of canning and freezing their surpluses.  Instead of having to go out and find these things, they could have them right in their own backyard, and revel in their harvests. 

            She smiled to herself, all of those things seemed so long ago, yet it was only five years ago when all of this started.  First it was the outbreaks of the diseases that come with a culture gone sour; the cancers from all of the processed chemicals that they were expected to eat and say it was alright, then the malaria that began to form in the stagnant pools of garbage heaps, turning into perfect breeding grounds for mosquitoes.  There were the various strains of flu that steadily became stronger each year, with each vaccine they came out with, the viruses evolved with them, until finally the weakest of the people were killed off by the viruses in droves.  And then the strain of Ebola that made it’s way steadily around the globe, spreading panic as it went, causing a frenzy of hand washing and cough covering that should have already been second nature.  Fact of the matter was, the body needed to be able to be exposed to at least a certain amount of germs and viruses on its own, so that it could build up its own defenses and make its own immune system, thereby rendering itself unsusceptible to common bugs.  However, with the advent of bleach wipes and hand sanitizers as the name of the game, the body was no longer exposed to the necessary things to make it stronger, so in an effort to protect the people, they were actually weakened to the point of no return.

            So many things they had done wrong.  How had this culture spun so wildly, so irrevocably out of control?  With the advent of ideas such as “political correctness” and disciplining a child was “child abuse”, or her favorite in retail of “the customer is always right”, no one was held accountable for their actions anymore.  Granted, children had been abused, people had been taken advantage of by the system, and others had been horrifically mistreated by other people.  But like with so many other things, the effort to put a stop to such injustices, had been taken drastically to the extreme.  Extremes were not a good way to maintain a community, or a system of government.  Without an accountability for their actions, there were no longer moral obligations to their fellow humans, to their environment, or even to themselves.  Children began bringing their parent’s guns to school and killing their classmates, gangs began to form in everyday neighborhoods, theft was second nature, people verbally and physically abused each other in order to get their own way.  People had become animalistic, ethics no longer bound their actions, the future never crossed their self serving thoughts.  Balance, why could no one understand that balance was what the world so desperately needed?

            Frustrated, she shook her head and went to the large window in their little solarium, opening the drapes a bit, using the full advantage of whatever sunlight could come through.  This room used to be in full sunlight most of the day, turning it into a hothouse for the tomatoes and seedlings that she kept in small glass globes.  Once they grew stronger, their delicate stems turning into ropelike stalks, she would move them from their little globes to larger pots, misting them, opening and closing the drapes, controlling pests, until they would give her beautiful vegetables.  In the now steel gray room, the once booming vegetable production was now at a standstill; the vibrant green things twisted and dry, crumbling under the most delicate touch.  The sun could no longer penetrate through the thick, ugly smog that enveloped the city, no radiant heat to help things grow.  Still she would come in though, spritzing their dead little leaves, opening and closing the drapes.  Slowly, as if in a fog, she went to the wooden shelves that lined the walls, and took down her glass mister, and mechanically went along and misted the plants, until one plant snapped under the tiny droplets.  Something snapped in her too then, and her hand opened, dropping the spritzer onto the stone tiles, shattering, and she dropped too, sobbing, cutting her knees on the broken glass but not noticing or caring. 

            Red mingled with the crystalline shards, trickling in between the grooves and cracks, prisms and crimson reflecting the dim gray light of the polluted atmosphere.  So many of their dreams seemed trapped with those helpless little plants, trapped in the glass globes, trapped in the walls of this damnable city!  Why they couldn’t leave was a mystery, no one had been able to since the underground fires started burning along the outer perimeters; only those that had fled in the mass exodus at the onset of the bombins had been able to leave.  Brennan had been working at the factory that built airplanes and space technology at that time, they had been forced into lockdown for fear of their technology either being leaked or destroyed, for the purpose of the raids had been unknown, a total surprise that had not been gleaned by the government’s top intelligence agencies.  Emma had been working at a nearby hospital as a nurse and had been buried in the sudden flood of the wounded and dying.  Not that either of them would have left without the other; it would have made more sense to cut off a hand than to have left without each other.  Tara, the neighbor girl, had gotten out though, that much she was certain of.  She hadn’t seen the thirteen year old in the last five years, which would not have happened if she were still here, since she had had a habit of coming by every day to visit them. 

            Blinking through her tears, she rubbed her eyes with the palms of her hands and pushed herself to her feet.  She picked the small shards from her knee, gathered them in her hands and placed them carefully on the countertop.  She went to the sliding door and slid it open, the balcony in front of this one considerably smaller and had suffered minimal damage.  As the door opened, the air nipped at her, causing her to pull her sweater closer around her neck.  It was a thick, heavy breeze, the very act of breathing it was hard and laborious.  It became easier with time, as a person became used to the extra effort, but it was always a shock after stepping from indoors, where all of the citizens and businesses had been forced to install air filtration systems in their vents.  The air had finally been deemed too polluted to be safely breathed in on a daily basis.  After decades of denying the heaping data that pointed to the fact that the planet was being ravaged and we would eventually reap the benefits, the government officials finally had to concede that there was something to these, after people began dying from carbon monoxide poisoning simply by walking down the street.  At first it had simply been people with compromised immune systems, and face masks and amped up multivitamins designed to strengthen the immune system had been peddled onto the majority, and things had been brushed off.  But finally with the deaths of strong, healthy people, there was finally no more hiding behind theories of “pollution falsification.” 

            She slid through the door and quickly shut it behind her, not wishing to let in any of the dirty air inside the apartment.  The filthy stuff tousled her hair, a wisp of ash dancing darkly past her.  Brushing a strand of her auburn hair out of her face, she could feel some of the ash smear on her cheek.  She walked to the edge of the small balcony and looked down at the street.  Everything was so dark, shrouded deeply in shadow, but she could make out the traces of the cracks trickling through the sidewalks, up the concrete walls of shopping districts and large shards fallen from the display windows and onto the ground, shining dully in the grey light.  Not a soul walked the streets, every now and then a car or a bus would amble its way down the street, but not many people came this way anymore.  It was only the centermost part of the city that was kept in a decent state, the place where the city leaders kept themselves.  That was also the last cluster of businesses that were worth anything for jobs or work.  Some people still lived out in this area, the few that wished to stay away from the crime and mayhem of the inner city.  Just because they were forced to work there, didn’t mean that they had to live there afterall. 

Turning her gaze, she took in the great, obsidian skyscrapers, like so many broken teeth snagging at the sky, and it was when she looked at the flickering red light lining the city, a slow thrumming began to reverberate through the ground.  It worked its way up through her feet, settling deep into her bones, making her teeth ache with the force of it.  Frantically she looked around, the buildings around her began to quiver, more hairline cracks snaking up their sides, the glass in the windows began to fracture even further.  Alarmed, she looked back at the horizon and her breath caught in her throat. 

“No, no it cant be.”  She murmured to herself, unheard above the dull rumblings and crashings around her.

“Babe! BABE! Emma!”  She heard from inside, and whirled around to the door.  Brennan was there, opening it, and he stumbled to her, taking her in his arms and trying to bring her back inside.

“Brennan, Brennan I don’t believe it!”  Was all she could whisper, grabbing his collar and sniffing into his neck, trying to get his scent, something she had always done when trying to reassure herself.

“Lets get inside!”  He began to lead her inside but then he paused; she could feel his muscles tense as he took in the sight of what had shocked her so deeply.  She slowly turned back around and looked at it, the terrible sight of the beast from her dream, now taller than any skyscraper, seeming to be formed from the very flames of the town.  Its great shape flickered and flamed, its muscles rippling, licked by tongues of fire.  Its bristled head rose up over the buildings and it snorted, smoke billowing from its large, flaring nostrils.  It raised one of its black hooves and braced itself on the top of a building and pulled itself up on top, bracing its other hooves on the tops of neighboring buildings.  Scraping groans escaped the metal as it shifted its weight; it raised its monstrous, bristled head and bellowed.  The enormous tusks gleamed obsidian, reflecting the fires red, and with its bellow, behind it a large billowing grey cloud began to form, flames winking out from its depths.  Slowly a shape began to appear, a terrible shape of a human skull with mouth open wide, as if in a silent scream. 

“Quick! Get back! Get back inside!” Brennan yelled when he regained himself, his grip tightening on her arms and he pulled them both back inside.  A puff of filth followed them inside as the door closed, and Emma quickly pulled herself together, her mind reeling from the appearance of something from a dream.  A dream for God’s sake!  Granted her dreams had always had an uncannily accurate nature about them, but they had never been so bizarre, had never foretold of anything so supernatural!  It wasn’t supposed to happen like this, wasn’t supposed to…

“Sweetie, its not your fault, but right now I need you here with me!”  It was only at his sudden words that she realized that she had begun to hyperventilate, and she cursed her panic under her breath. 

“Im sorry.”  She whispered, angrily wiping tears from her eyes, and he stopped the pacing he’d begun and came over to her, took her face in his hands and kissed her, pressing her against him, as if hoping that he would be able to fuse them into one entity.  He then stepped back and looked down at her, smiling, and wiping the corner of her eye with his thumb. 

A great booming shocked the building, throwing both of them to the floor.  The reverberations made spots dance in front of her eyes, the breath whooshed from her lungs.  She looked over at Brennan and his eyes were shut, his hands clasped to the sides of his head.  Another shock rippled through the apartment and the structure began to groan dangerously.  She slid over to her husband and lay flat against him, coaxing his hands from his eyes and murmuring softly to him.  He slowly opened them and looked up at her, panic making them roll in his skull.  She took his face, as he had done to her earlier, and kissed his lips.  He calmed slightly, looked into her eyes, with the building beginning to sway.  In one motion, they both held to each other, knowing there was no time to try to run anywhere, knowing that there was nowhere to run to, nowhere that was safer than any other when seeking shelter from falling buildings when they were on all sides.  They were just as likely to get crushed in the stairwell as they were here, the blasts were coming in too quick of succession to be able to even walk, let alone run.  A final blow slammed into the building as they clung to each other, burying their faces in each other’s shoulders, hearts thrumming madly beside the other, as if the world were trying to pry them apart.  Then everything collapsed into darkness.

 

 

The longer she had stayed inside the dam, the harder it was to tell just how much time had passed.  Things had not been as simple as she thought they would be when she had first studied the map, and she could barely contain a growl of frustration.  She was starting to get what could only be described as “cabin fever”, a tingling itch in her nerves, vibrating in her bones and tissues, screaming at her to move, run, jump, do something that she could see normally without these damn goggles.  They had begun to chafe on the sides of her head and her face, the constant green tinge messed with her head.  Sometimes she had to lean against the wall and squeeze her eyes shut, breaking out in a cold sweat, her heart pounding near panic when her brain would point out that she was buried inside of a giant, concrete structure far beyond the sun.  She tried to keep the thought that if an earthquake were to strike, she would literally be buried, alive. 

But then she would keep moving, drinking water from a bottle she had kept on her person, drinking sparingly in an effort to conserve.  The water was getting alarmingly low now though, and her body was starting to burn with thirst.  If she ate anything now, it would use up the rest of the water in her body to digest it, in effect making her even worse off.  Oh, the random things that she remembered from survival shows and old classes she had taken.  People often found her plethora of random facts amusing, and delighted in her hodgepodge of knowledge.  In the darkness, she could almost feel herself smile at the old memories.  Things had changed so much, had gone so wrong.  It was years ago, she wasn’t sure how many, when she hadn’t been on the run for her life. 

She shook her head; it was useless to think that way, although it was nice to let her mind escape from the crushing blackness that enveloped her every time she took her goggles off.  Dimly, as she shuffled along the corridor, she became aware of a room that was coming up on her right.  Realizing suddenly how complacent she had become without meeting anything else in her meanderings, she gripped her crowbar tighter, not knowing where her sudden uneasiness was coming from.  There was the new sound of water dripping somewhere from within the room, and as she approached, she could make out the sound of rats squeaking and scratching on the other side of the wall.  Cautiously, she crept to the corner of the doorway, crowbar in hand, and peeked around the corner.  Instead of finding something dangerous, what she saw puzzled her.  The usual desk and filing cabinets were decorating the office, paperwork and blueprints strewn across the ground, with no one left to care for their order.  But what caught her as strange was a row of work boots, about five pairs of them, were lined up against the far wall, tipped up on their tops, lined up from largest to smallest.  The sight made her shiver.  After all, who down here would have thought to do it; whoever it is it certainly was not an animal.

Slowly she moved over to the boots, drawn by the oddness of it, her eyes steadily moving over the room and glancing back out to the corridor as she did so, reminding herself that there might still be someone else in there with her.  She couldn’t help it, when she reached the boots; she crouched, reaching her hand out tentatively to touch them.  There it was again, that sound.  She froze, hand outstretched, heart pounding, barely taking a breath.  It had been so long since she had last heard that scraping sound, so long ago it seemed, since the first day she had first entered the dam.  She had all but forgotten it.  She turned, taking shallow breaths, facing back to the corridor.  There was nothing in the doorway, and the idea of diving under the desk and hiding again seemed horrifying to her.  She hated to hide, but what else could she do, being so small with no weapons? 

Then she realized that the scraping noise had stopped; she began to get to her feet when she froze, feeling something tickle down the side of her cheek, tracing to her neck, something long and soft.  Throwing herself backwards, she swung out wildly with her crowbar.  She twisted around frantically as she fell and landed squarely on her back, knocking the wind from her chest.  She scrambled backwards, trying desperately to suck in some air to her lungs, her eyes searching wildly for what had touched her.  There was nothing left in there with her but the boots and the sound of dripping water again.  She stayed still and strained her ears, certain then that there was no longer anyone in there with her.  Embarrassed that she had reacted so poorly, she one again rose to her feet, her eyes scanning the room, until slowly they moved up along the wall above her regular line of sight.  Gasping, she clamped her hands over her mouth, stifling a scream.  Above her on the opposite side of the room, above a puddle that had formed on the concrete floor, there dangled what was once a man, for the hideous thing that remained only partly resembled one.  A chain was wrapped around the ankle, with the body hanging upside down.  The hands were missing, as was most of the skull, with entrails hanging loosely down by what was once the face.  Most of the cavity had been emptied.  The sound hadn’t been water, but the sound of thick, coagulated blood slowly dripping from the corpse. 

“His boots are on the far left, the biggest pair.”  A small voice said from behind her.