Not Alone

The straps bite into Hikari’s shoulders as she struggles, yanking at buckles stiff with age. She leans forward, palms pressed against the glass. It doesn’t budge. She braces her feet against the pod door and kicks. A crack splinters across the surface. Another kick, and the glass bursts outward, shards skittering across the floor.
          Careful not to slice her skin on the jagged edges, she eases herself through the opening. The hem of her hospital gown snags, then tears free, leaving a rip in its place. Bare feet crunch against the sea of broken glass.
          “Ryousei?”
          The emptiness of his pod makes her heart sink. Dust and debris coat the seat where he should be. She turns to the other side of the lab. Kotarou’s green pod lies toppled, its frame bent, straps dangling loosely toward the floor. She steadies herself on the pod’s side and crouches to peer inside.
          Empty again.
          Why would they leave me behind? Or did they make it to CC1-Alpha without me?
          As she touches the pod, her fingers sink into something wet. She jerks back, grimacing at the streak of slick green slime coating her skin. The fluid clings stubbornly, refusing to let go. She wipes the viscous material onto the torn hem of her gown.
          “Gross.”
She tiptoes through the wreckage until she reaches the hallway. The door hangs crooked on its hinges. The corridor is half-lit by flickering overhead lights. Shattered frames of anatomical diagrams litter the floor, glass glittering faintly with each pulse of light. As she moves deeper into the corridor, a terminal glows faintly on the wall, its light pooling across the surface of a massive metal door.
          I don’t remember this door being here.
          She tugs at the handle. It doesn’t budge. She bangs her first against the cold metal.
          “Is anyone in there? I need help! My procedure didn’t work!”
          The hum of the terminal is the only sound she hears in the otherwise deafening silence. She gently presses her forehead against the door in defeat.
          What if I’m the only failure? What if everyone else has already moved on without me? I can’t be alone. Not like this.
          Slowly, she moves through the hall into the connecting area.
          The waiting room is in ruins. Chairs lie overturned, their cushions split open. Papers cling to the floor, glued down by the same strange liquid she saw in the lab. Windows gape open and the wind cuts through the room, whipping her gown and hair as sunlight blinds her. She shields her eyes, blinking against the glare. When her vision clears, the world around her looks unrecognizable.
          Buildings lean as if on the verge of collapse. Blackened streaks scar their walls where fires once raged. Windows and doors are barricaded with boards and nails. Vines creep across the concrete, flowers blooming defiantly, bright and wild. Green life coils around the skeleton of a dead city.
          “I don’t understand… Where am I?”
          Her words vanish into the silence. Not even birds sing here.
          She hurries down the hospital steps, eyes fixed on the tall, decrepit buildings above. Not watching her feet, she hears a splash and stops as cold liquid soaks her ankles. For a moment she just stares at the water where she expected concrete.
          She looks around more carefully. Every street as far as she can see lies drowned beneath murky water.
          How long was I asleep for all this to happen?
          The sunlight is warm against her skin. The breeze carries the scent of flowers. And yet the world around her is broken, abandoned, overtaken. The contrast of the vegetation blooming with life among such dread and destruction feels unreal.
          She steps off the sidewalk, deeper into the water where the street should be. Aimlessly, she stumbles forward, sloshing through the nearly knee-high flood. Her arms wrap around herself, a feeble shield against the emptiness, as her gaze drifts to the twisted buildings on the horizon.
          What do I do? Where do I go?
          A shimmer of light flickers off a moving surface, catching her eye. It came from one of the building’s open windows—so high up she almost missed it. It’s one of the few windows not boarded shut.
          “Hello? Is someone there?” she calls, quickening her pace, desperate for someone who can help, or at least explain what has happened. She stops at the building’s entrance. Long planks of wood are nailed across the door frame, barring the way.
          Maybe I’m just seeing things. Get a grip.
          The adrenaline in her body fades, and twinges of pain begin to break through. She braces one hand against the brick wall for balance and lifts her foot from the water. Thin crimson lines score across her skin.
          I wasn’t careful around the glass in the lab. I can’t keep walking in filthy water like this.
          She grabs one of the planks nailed across the door and pulls, hoping to pry her way inside to someplace safe and dry. It doesn’t budge. Frustrated, she yanks again, then rattles it with quick jerks, as if shaking it might help. Her breath escapes in a long sigh. Then realization strikes as her eyes drift back up to the open window above.
          There's so much ivy on these walls, maybe I could just…
          She grips the vines and leans back, testing their strength against her weight.
          I think it will hold.
          Pulling herself up with each handful of thin vines she gets closer to the opening until her fingertips touch the the windowsill. It’s surface is slick and compared to the ivy she has less confidence about being able to pull up onto it.
          I can do this, I’m almost there.
          With one hand on the windowsill and the other still gripping the ivy, she shifts her weight toward the opening, then quickly snatches her second hand onto the sill. For a moment her feet dangle in the air.
          Mustering all her strength, she hauls herself upward only to be met with a blur of movement from a dark cat’s claws swiping at her face. She jerks back to avoid the strike, but the motion throws her off balance. Her fingers slip free.
          She screams as she falls, knowing the shallow water below won’t be deep enough to save her. Eyes squeezed shut, she braces for the impact that never comes.
          Her eyes snap open. For a moment, her body locks, every muscle frozen in fear.
          Staring down at her is an enormous skull, its surface coated in a thick layer of green slime that glistens in the light. Her gaze trails down, following the spine that stretches from it, the ribcage, the massive arms that are holding her body.
          It’s a giant skeleton?!
          On the side of the street towers a skeleton twice the size of Hikari. Its massive hands clamp around her body. Its frame is encased in a thick layer of transparent lime-green slime, glossy and shifting with every creak of bone beneath. Light filters through the ooze like stained glass, casting eerie, shimmering shadows across the flooded street below.
          She screams and struggles in its grasp to break free.
          The creature tilts its head, then tosses her through the open window. She crashes onto the floor with a heavy thud. For a stunned moment she stares at the peeling paint on the ceiling above. Breath ragged, she pushes onto her hands and knees and crawls toward the window. Forcing herself to look, she peers down at the street below.
          The street below is barren, not a soul in sight.
          Her shoulders sag, and she slumps against the wall, dazed and trembling.
          It’s a nightmare. I’m just having a nightmare, that’s all. I just need to wake up.
          She gives her cheek a few tentative slaps, hoping the sting will snap her out of it. Of course, it doesn’t.
          Finally focusing on her surroundings, she realizes she’s in an office building, the room divided into rows of cubicles. Forcing herself upright on her injured feet, she mutters under her breath:
          This place might not be much for supplies, but I have to try.
          She swings open every cabinet, every drawer she can reach. Pens. Papers. Nothing useful. Frustration builds, and she stomps into the adjoining room.
          She digs through the break room’s cluttered storage cabinet until she finds something useful. A small first-aid kit that looks like its never been used. She sets it on the table, flipping the latch open. But before she takes anything out, she spots something strange in the corner of her eye. On the table sits a cup of coffee with steam rising from it. Her fingers brush the porcelain. It’s still hot.
          Panic prickles up her spine. Someone was just here.
          She snatches ointment and gauze from the kit, her eyes darting around the room, watching for any movement. Hands trembling, she smears the ointment onto her cuts and winds the bandages tight. Every sound feels amplified, the beat of her heart racing, the drip of a leaky faucet. She edges toward the stairwell door and peers up at the dark flight of stairs above.
          If I can get to the roof, maybe I can see more of the city and get my bearings. She pushes herself into racing up the steps, climbing fast despite the sting in her feet. I need to know which way to go to get out of this abandoned hell and back to civilization.
          Floor after floor blurs past until at last she spots the door marked Roof Access. Gasping for breath, she shoves it open and stumbles onto the roof. The door slams shut behind her.
          Oh no. I didn’t brace it open.
          She rattles the handle. A sharp breath escapes her, half sigh, half curse.
          Of course it’s locked.
          Turning to the skyline, she steadies herself. Mountains stretch across the northern horizon, their peaks hidden by clouds. To the south sprawls a vast, glimmering lake that stretches into the horizon. To the eastern skyline is nothing but wreckage, a city drowned in destruction. She spots a massive green welcome sign, obstructed by glare from the setting sun.
          Finally, a landmark!
          She runs across the rooftop, squinting hard to read the words.
          “Welcome to Novaterra, the largest settlement on CC1-Alpha.”
          Her breath catches.
          Oh my god. I’m not on Earth anymore.