Matthew Bargery

Mercy

The humidity wafted through the air with a heavy presence. The normally dusty and dirt streets were caked with a sticky, thick mud. My boots slogged across the ground as I patrolled through this empty city, alone and tired. I could hear the wind blow through the tall buildings which stood over me like obelisks watching every move I made. I eyed the occasional camera set up on corners or perched on the tops of empty offices, and knew that I probably was being watched. At the moment, I was walking through a street not flanked by sky scrapers, but instead lined with old store fronts and small houses. Old even for their time, but everything is old now. Nothing new has been built in decades. All that there is left to find, is broken, decrepit buildings that somehow still managed to stand.