So it wasn't a dream.
I dressed quickly, layering my clothes on thick with several of my thin sweaters along with a thick jacket I picked up on my solo adventures. Wind whistled through the walls and, as if signaling that my attire wasn't enough, I shivered. The walk down the concrete stairs to the bottom was long and creepy--the building was eerily silent, compared to other mornings where the chatter of the men eating and drinking was enough to wake the dead. Coming into the lobby, though, I instantly knew what had happened. Miss Angie was lying in the middle of the floor, tucked into a sleeping bag, eyes closed as if she really was just sleeping.
"What's going on?" I asked, pausing at the bottom of the steps to catch several of the men standing around her crying. All looked up; some to quickly wipe away tears, others to tell me the story through their eyes. But no one said a thing, they didn't have to. Miss Angie was dead. Her white hair covered her face like snow; there was something oddly peaceful in the way Pastor Johnson knelt down and slowly brushed it away, the way he ran his fingers over her eye lids afterword. Marco was on the other side of the room--without hesitation I made my way to him.
"Sleep well?" He asked, his dark circles making him look older than 21.
"Why didn't you wake me up?!" I whispered but I let it be known that I was upset. He shook his head, his hair falling across his face. For once, he didn't push it back he just stared at the ground.
"I didn't know what happened. I knew you'd have a hangover so I was going to go to the Quick-E Mart next door and see if they had a first aid kit. But I got outside only to find her...sprawled across the hotel steps...dead." He sat down, resting his head back against the wall. "I didn't want to come and wake you up like that. I didn't know how you'd react or you would've been the first person I told. I swear." Thunder cracked and lightning struck across the sky outside of giant glass hotel doors.
"Well..." Pastor stepped towards Marco and myself. "I guess Marco told you?" I nodded. "We still have no idea how this could've happened. Did you hear her leave the floor last night?" Pastor Johnson sat across from but my head almost exploded.
"Wait...what?" I scooted away from both of them, just slightly. "What do you mean how? Miss Angie was old," I chuckled nervously. "As sad as it is, it
was her time." I shrugged. It wasn't that I didn't care, but I was just so use to losing people that I didn't allow myself to get as... devastated. Pastor looked confused.
"Ah...Jemma, I don't know how to tell you this but, Miss Angie was murdered." Pastor said quietly, looking around to make sure he didn't draw attention to himself. I furrowed my brow together in frustration.
"But...how? None of us could've done it. She...she was family to everyone. There has to be some other explanation. Our people aren't capable of something as....cold-blooded as--"
"Jemma, we aren't the only ones here. There's a whole civilization of monsters out there." Marco said what the Pastor was too afraid to suggest. "A whole world of....things that got sick. Things that changed with the end of the Old--" I put my hand up, I'd heard the stories before. Mandy and I had exchanged back and forth our own little gossip we'd learned from the people in town and what she heard at school so I was very much up to date with the monsters of the Old World. I some times saw them--jumping from building to building, muted screams in the night, killing, pondering...disappearing. They were far from human, these....things, Marco had been right about that.
"Typically they leave us alone. They're scared. So...why attack now?" As I said it, both Marco and Pastor averted their gaze. "What?! Something else you didn't tell me?" I shouted. Pastor stood up and excused all three of us, gripping his gun tight has he ushered us outside.
"Jemma, these...things aren't afraid of us. They just haven't been able to find out where we've been staying when we come to resupply. They're night-dwellers. That's why we have a curfew here. And, if you ask me, they're none too bright or they would've figured us out a long time ago." He shrugged, looking up to the dark clouds looming over-head. "We lose at least one person with every visit." He said it as if his words meant nothing.
"Lose? Like...death? Lose like they just walk away and are never found? What kind of lose?" I demanded, squeezing my gun tighter. Pastor shook his head.
"Some of both. Jemma, you have to understand, there was nothing we could do." He frowned.
"You could've told the people! You could've told
me." I urged. Maybe I was being dramatic but you can't just treat someone like your child then keep secrets as big as something like that.
"And what, Jemma? Cause a riot on the island?" Marco stepped towards me and placed a hand on my gun strap. "Think about it: Pastor kept this secret for the well being of everyone on the island."
"Did you know?" I looked up at him. He looked off for a second. That was all the answer I needed. I began to walk in the opposite direction of the hotel.
"Where are you expecting to go?" Marco laughed, a smug smart-assed laughed that made me want to punch him right in the jaw.
"Anywhere, Marco. From what I've just seen, our people aren't safe
anywhere. So why should we run and hide from something the can get us where ever we go? I have an entire country to explore." I yelled, throwing my arms up in the air. Pastor stepped past Marco.
"Now, Jemma, you're just being silly. Come on. Lets get back in the building. It's getting ready to rain." He waved me in.
"No. I'm going on a supplies run. I need....lady products." I rolled my eyes, turning around and running for as far and as long as I could. When I finally ran out of breath, I was on a street I had yet to explore.
Rx Drug Store, Manny's Dry Cleaning, a Jewish Temple, many places we didn't have back on the island. The few people of ours that were still religious had their own hut for Sunday worship. Neither my sister nor my mother were religious and, as for myself, I have no reason to believe so...I don't. I respect those that do, though. Who still have hope he'll come back. Those are truly strong people.
Not too far in the distance, maybe a couple blocks over, there was a skyscraper. As shiny and mirror-like as I remember; taller than it appeared from the island.
"I've got to get up there." I spoke to myself while squinting to see the top. Unless I was seeing wrong, that building went straight up into the clouds. Tall enough for a good view of the Old World; it's vast rolling hills, small farms, maybe even Old World houses.
It took 20 minutes to get to the building and an hour and a half to climb the flights and flights of stairs. By the time I reached the top, I regretted even leaving my hotel room. But the view was well worth it--to the back side of the building was rows and rows of Old World houses, it was bittersweet in the sense that they would never be filled with families ever again. Families laughing over dinner together or lovers embracing after a long day of work or school.
Part of me stopped and wondered: had those homes ever been looted for supplies?
-Jemma
