Ch 4: Where did you go?

Sector 7 - Seventeen days later

Peering over the ledge, the ground came in and out of focus. Ace took another step back, the mix of blood and water squelching in his shoe. The rain pelted down on him relentlessly, but it didn’t make a difference; he was already soaked from head to toe.

After taking a deep inhale, he sighed again, the smell of rain and smoke tingling his nose.

He looked up at the sky as if preparing to pray, knowing that his words probably wouldn’t reach anyone. The drumming of rain was heavy to the point that he could barely hear it himself.

But he did it nonetheless.

                                                                                ***

Cecilia.
Where did you go?

I’ve lost all sense of direction.

The buildings stretched all the way to the horizon, continuing further than my eyes could see. Holograms flickered like ghosts in the wind, leaving only static, but even that was drowned out by the storm.

I’ve checked everywhere.

Every building was lifeless. Two layers of dust covered every surface as though it were skin. Rusted runic machines and conveyor belts engulfed by grime filled the carcass. Empty crates abused and forgotten.

Yesterday, I saw a man. His clothes fluttered in the wind, tattered, ripped, and ragged. Bones jutted out from his frame like a skeleton, eyes sunken into his skull. They were soulless, moving frantically, constantly checking their surroundings. He had patchy, scruffy facial hair, and he dragged his right foot as he walked. Showing the scars carved by broken glass on his fingers, he reached his hand out towards me. But all he felt was a mirror.

Would you still recognise me?

I’ve barely slept. Everywhere feels dangerous. Sometimes I hear the tapping of footsteps at night, and I hide with bated breath. I don't want to go through that. Not again.

These days, I feel like I'm losing my mind. I always feel this… gaze watching me. Even when I do find somewhere to sleep, it's like the runes in the walls whisper at night. The shadows shift and move, glaring at me, mocking me.

Maybe it’s karma. I’ve done some…questionable things since we got here. The vivid memory haunts me, etched in my brain like the runes along the walls. The bloody image…it scares me. Keeps me awake at night.

I had no choice.
I had to survive so I could see you again. But where are you now?

I miss the sound of your voice. Sometimes I hear it in the wind. Telling me to keep going. To not give up.

It's so lonely. It’s like screaming into the darkness, but not even the echoes come back.
My anxiety burns in my chest, igniting the pessimistic thoughts in my head, pooling searing weight on my shoulders. Ever since we got to this sick, broken world, I’ve had no one to turn to.

Why was I brought here? Why were we brought here? Did God make a mistake? Mom always used to say to trust in his plan, but I don’t think I believe in him anymore.
I know I always said the pasta she made was bland and dry, but I think I took her cooking for granted. I’d do anything. Anything to have one of her homemade dishes right now. These few weeks, she's probably been losing sleep searching for me everywhere.

To imagine her eating at the dinner table by herself, anxiously glancing out the window, waiting for me to come home. It brings tears to my eyes.
If she saw me now, do you think she would be proud of me? Of jumping in front of danger to save you?

Mom, I miss you more than you can imagine. I wish I had said that I loved you and hugged you before I left that morning. I hope you’re not losing sleep trying to find me. Even if you tried to search the whole of Earth, you still wouldn’t be able to. I hope that you’ve gotten used to waking up early for Spot’s morning walks in my stead. I'll miss that fluffy goofball, with his ears twitching and tail wagging every time I came home. Ah. Without realizing it, I had seen that all for the last time.

Mom, if I knew I didn’t have that much time, I would’ve spent another day with you instead of playing video games in my room. Instead of signing a cheap card, I would have put more effort into your Mother’s Day present. Instead of being too embarrassed to admit it, I would have told you all the reasons I'm grateful for growing up and being raised by you. I would’ve told you how much I loved the little notes you left with my lunch, encouraging me to get through the day. Even though I always complained that they were too childish. I regret not telling you. I regret having the chance to tell you these things every day and assuming that more days would come. I regret taking the time for granted.

If I had known we’d be taken here, Cecilia, I would have stopped postponing those dates. I would’ve put everything else off to go on that weekend trip we always talked about. Instead of saying, “Yeah, let’s do that when we’re older,” I would’ve dropped everything to leave right that second. I wish we could’ve grown older together…just like we promised.

I'm sick of it. Sick of scavenging through the trash. Sick of searching for bugs.
But it doesn’t matter. It's going to over soon anyway.

With the calluses on his feet beginning to bleed again, he perched onto the ledge, feet floating in the air.

Thunder echoed through the splatters of rainfall.

Hey Cecilia.