Above

Most people liked to stay Below. Below was safe. He preferred Above. The air was thick, the light was intense. The silence was welcome.

He had found a mansion, a four story house still intact. It would take months to explore every crack. He couldn't go in. Instead He went to the building behind. It was not as well preserved, it sagged in the middle, but the roof was still solid. There were four cars, dust, and a body in an office.

He found a small staircase to the upper level where the front windows overlooked the back of the mansion. If He watched for a few days He would know if it was empty. The thought of exploring made Him smile. Just a small smile, one side of his mouth higher than the other.

He looked around. The upper room was full of dusty boxes, stacked to the rafters. The boxes on the bottom flattened to half their size by the weight of those above. There was a cot. Tracking through the dust, dismayed by the evidence of His passage, He pulled the cot towards the window. He tripped.

He stared at the loose board. The edge was curled just enough to give His fingers leverage. In the small gap between was a cloth wrapped bundle and a book. He sat back on his feet and wondered.

From the cot He could see the mansion. Wrapped in His containment blanket He watched. Quiet covered Him. He slept.

Three days. Usually He waited four. As He was debating He heard it. He pulled His containment blanket over His head and curled up on the cot. Motionless. Silent.

The drone flew past slowly, sweeping side to side, seeking heat. Finding nothing, it moved on.

The back door of the Mansion was still locked. He found a window into the cellar. He walked slowly, touching the jars, the pipes, the stone walls. Would His heat penetrate these stones? He was unsure. He didn't like the cellar. It was Below.

The first floor was silent. Furniture standing ready, food petrified in the pantry. Life paused. He smiled again.

There were fireplaces everywhere. The temptation hung Above each one. Most were laid, waiting for heat. He sat in front of one, wrapped in His containment blanket.

The book was small, black and loosely bound. Made by someone. He opened it slowly, with the reverence deserved of such a relic.

The pages were typed on the back side. Numbers. Uneven edges slicing through rows of digits, turned over, and written on.

My name doesn't matter, nothing matters anymore. I was going to run, going to steal the car and go. It's too late, whatever they did the car doesn't work, none of them work. Nothing works, no phone, no power. The boss and his family left days ago, someone came and got them that night, shuffled them into a van. The Missus was bitching the whole time about her stuff. I don't know what's going on out there, hiding out in the garage. Went in the house for food, got some water but it stopped running. Everyone is gone, the staff must have run. No one came to get me. Bastards.

Out of water, going to go see what is out there. Heard a truck earlier in the driveway, slowed down, didn't stop.

I cannot believe what I've seen. Everything is crazy. Like a tornado or mob went through. I found some water but no food. There's people, but they run and hide. I tried to follow a group but they disappeared by some big building. Going to check it tomorrow.

It'a some sort of plant. It looks like the people are in the tunnels under it. I got some guy to talk to me but he didn't make sense. Said the robots came and killed everyone who didn't hide. Said they're coming and finding the ones that did hide. Told me to hide. Some mumbling about seeing our heat. What the hell?

No water. Been sleeping in the basement of the main house. Sick of the cold. I hear the robots, they fly overhead. Waiting for it to rain. Cold last night. Going to sleep in the garage tonight. Hiding this and my stash, no where to run right now anyhow.

He looked at the writing, read the words He knew. He didn't know many. He carefully put the book in his bag, next to the bundle. He slept.

The drone flew overhead. He stayed in His containment blanket. Two days. Every two days.

He crouched in front of the fireplace. The bundle was opened in front of Him, stacks of green paper fanned out. They had been held together by tiny papers with numbers. 5000. Four of them. They were lighting easily.

He stared into the flames for longer than He meant to. They were so bright, so warm, so much better Above.