Shadow of Ash

An ash cloud hung over the city as if Death draped his cloak over the world blocking almost all of the sun's rays from reaching the stragglers of civilization below. What little light was left was dealt with by the remnants of the buildings that were crumbling around them. Cars lined the streets, derelict and immobile, not that they could be driven anywhere. The roads had decayed so much, that it was more expedient to walk. Though the pothole had become the natural predator to the ankle, evolving its diet with the times. Walking along the dotted lines of the old world’s arteries was a young woman, no younger than seventeen nor older than twenty-three. She navigated past cars and holes, to avoid a sprain or tetanus. Vaccines were rather hard to come by nowadays. She wore fabric over her mouth, but still was coughing up a lung. But she did not stop. That wasn’t a luxury she had.

She eyed an old pharmacy. Clearly, it had been raided, boxes and shelves were all over the floor, windows shattered. She knew she was unlikely to find anything inside, but maybe, just maybe… She pulled out a heart shaped locket from underneath her shirt. It was jammed shut, completely stiff. But that was okay, she thought, for as long as it was closed, nothing could harm what was inside. She scoured through empty shelves, boxes, and went behind the desk, but there was nothing. It was of course, a slim to none chance, that she would ever find what she was after, but failing to look, would be a crime against her own good nature. Clutching the locket, her knuckles turned white, or as white as they could be when covered in debris, she pulled herself out of the abandoned pharmacy, and got back to walking.

“What I wouldn’t do for a map”. She thought to herself. A useful one mind, not the ones left out for the tourists of old, that marked off all the landmarks. No tourists arrived anymore, and the last ones to arrive weren’t tourists anymore. With a map, she could maybe even dare to traverse the old subway tunnels, where it was stuffy sure, but the air was distinctly less ashy, and the paths less worn down by the elements. Though even with a map, she didn’t want to tangle with those that had set up shop down there. She spied an old grocery store ahead, though also torn apart for food, there was a small chance that those raiding it had overlooked the valuable medicine within. If they had wanted medicine after all, they would’ve raided the pharmacy. This, however, did not hold true, or at the very least, someone else had come to the same conclusion in their hunt for salvation.

She wasn’t much for prayer. Any gods that may exist left a ticking time bomb in the middle of the continent that would inevitably go off with a blast so great it could no doubt be heard across the entire western hemisphere, and pour enough ash into the atmosphere to block out the sun for years. Such a god was worthy of blame more than any worship. But in the moments where one is left with so little hope to save someone so dear, the mind cannot help but beg the powers that be for help. Any powers that could help, were clearly not listening, or were, but had no desire to heed her desperate pleading.

She passed a police station. There was a distinct chance that it had held what she sought, however, it was also no doubt filled to the brim with pillagers and killers, armed with all the toys that the police held onto. She snuck past, ducking behind the cars that had been gutted for parts that served no doubt nefarious purposes. She spied inside, a tall man garbed in Kevlar vest and wielding a rifle, only half paying attention to his doubtlessly tedious post. She finally reached a point where she could turn off and she hurried away before she could be robbed for all she carried. It wasn’t a lot mind you, a bottle of boiled water, a dry sandwich and the clothes on her back… And the locket, a sealed shut locket that was likely made of the cheapest metal. But it would sting almost more than death to see it taken. In fact, if she was robbed, she thought, death would be preferable as failing to return would snuff the last flame of her life.

She finally escaped the shadow of the police complex, into a corridor of buildings that could hardly be called standing. The supports were straining under the weight of the memories and rubble left by the residents who had abandoned it and the dereliction of care in the aftermath of that fateful day. She couldn’t help but wonder how many of the families that had called this building home managed to escape, how many names where lost, never to be engraved on stone nor an urn. What had been left behind more often unsettled her, than outright terrified her. There were no gangs joyfully slaughtering people, cackling as they drive by in leather, putting the heads of their enemies on pikes. The corpses she found scattered beneath the collapsed buildings weren’t displayed but decaying in clogged gutters. The ones in the cars were somewhat better preserved, but still emptied of all their essence. One of the dead, leant up against a wall, was fresher. No doubt killed in either a gang confrontation or by a victim with the nerve to fight back. From the shocked expression etched into his face, she assumed the latter. People in gang wars are rarely astounded by the prospect of death unless they possess a truly impenetrable ego. She couldn’t find it in herself to be satisfied in this man’s death. He almost surely didn’t truly enjoy the killing, she thought, he was just trying to meet the same needs she was. His skills and circle simply lead him down a different path. She began to think she was being rather charitable to the man, so she decided to let him drift from her mind.

She finally came to the end of the collapsed corridor and found a small pharmacy, tucked between a small sandwich shop and a miniature Vietnamese grocery store. She squeezed past the door, that was awkwardly bent off the frame, with the hinges rusted stuck.

“agh”, a piece of wood from the door scraped across her midriff, leaving a hole in her shirt and harsh red graze.

Finally inside, she let her eyes adjust to the windowless room. The shelves, like the many she had rummaged through before, where empty barring the metal debris and scraps of paper that no one considered worthy of being kindling. She grasped the heart shaped locket, as she scoured the shelves for the medicine, growing in frustration she shared her body heat with the locket. Just when she began to admit to herself, she should move on, she spied it, under a pile of rubble that no one had bothered to check in the darkness, a red handle. She started digging out the box from the rubble, leaving her hands raw. She finally pulled it loose and opened it. Yes, at last there it was. Her elation re-energized her limbs and she stood tall for the first time in weeks. She returned the locket to her grip and this time lifted it to her lips and kissed it.

She squeezed out once more, ignoring the protests of her red raw stomach, the adrenaline surging through her, pain no longer a factor. She flew down the streets for a few moments before caution made a reappearance in her stream of consciousness. She in an instant was reminded of all the potholes, rust, and gangs that stood in her way home. It was difficult to abide by the warnings of her self-preservation as time was pressing and she finally had what she needed. She settled on a brisk pace, faster than her attentive searching speed, but slower than her energy begged.

She was free of the most derelict portion of the city, able to pick up her pace, when her heart dropped lower than it had ever dropped before, beneath the wound on her midriff.

‘OI, you! Stop right there!’ She dared not turn around. The voice sounded as if its owner had gravel in their larynx. She did all she could to block the images of the figure behind her. She didn’t dare picture him. She ran, faster than she had ever before. Her every breath was heavy, bringing as much oxygen into her body as possible, to feed the blood vessels that couldn’t push her forward on fear alone.

‘DON’T YOU LISTEN GIRL?’

He was gaining on her, she could feel his body heat closer, and closer. She tried to find a second wind but felt his hand tug on the back of her shirt, pulling her backwards onto the ground. Her head collided with his boot, which although painful was preferable to smashing her skull against the craggy asphalt. A tall muscular figure stood over her, his hair all over his body unkempt bar an immaculate beard. She was too scared to find this at all worth noting. He breathed heavily, and grabbed her by the throat, lifting her to her feet. She struggled, still holding onto, with all her life and a little more, the first aid kit containing the elixir she sought.

‘Hand it over little one and you won’t be hurt.’ She was still struggling, when she launched a ferocious kick towards his crotch. A metal plate absorbed most of the damage, resulting in only minor discomfort and barely registering even the smallest welp, but it proved the perfect opportunity to deliver an almighty thwack with the hard-plastic casing. He relinquished his grip, tearing the locket off with it, sending it hurtling to the floor and cracking open on the ground.

‘You bitch’ he snarled, blood spattering from his teeth after biting into his tongue. But before he could reach for his knife, he found it was already snatched from its sheath. In his moment of weakness, his would be victim had snatched it and was now standing behind him. Before he could find her in his daze, she plunged his own blade into his lower spine. His scream terrified the most stoic of beasts. Amidst his blood curdling noise, she made a run for it before any of his possible friends could possibly appear. Amongst the chaos, she didn’t notice the lost locket on the floor, cracked wide open, a photograph released and picked up the wind, to be eroded by the elements.

She was sat on the verandah of her home, looking out into what she would assume was a wonderful sunset behind Death’s cloak. A man in his fifties emerged, hobbling on his crutches. He didn’t say a word. The silence was worse than anything she had heard in her long pilgrimage. She grasped for the cold metal on her neck only to be reminded of its absence.

She hoped someone one day might find it. Maybe a lost soul or a distant archeologist. Her name echoing into the future, an artifact of another stolen soul.