by G H Edwards
Confusion swirled in her head. Suddenly she felt she was going to be sick; everything was spinning inside her. She reached over her head and scrambled to find the door handle. She pulled the handle up and pushed the heavy door open. Then she quickly climbed out of the truck just in time to throw up on the road. She was on her hands and knees, feeling lightheaded. Is this what dying is like? she wondered. When she finally finished, she turned around and looked back at Michael through the open door. She felt so bad that his last moments of life were packed into a beat-up, loud pickup truck. She tried to think back to the last thing he had said, his last words. Were they back at Tim and Jenny’s? She couldn’t remember. Then it hit her; he had used his last bit of strength to relay a message when they were driving. She had slowed the truck down and leaned over him. He’d said, “Keep going.”
Michael had known he was dying, known she would stay with him and die at his side, and he didn’t want that. His last wish was for her to keep going. He wanted her to keep going, and she knew she had to do that. Tears flowed down her face as she climbed to her feet. She stepped back to the truck and began her long goodbye to her husband.
CHAPTER 29
It was just after 3:00 p.m. when Claire began her walk toward Mega City Miami. She had drunk three bottles of water and only had one left. Far in the distance she saw what looked like a hazy image of a few thousand skyscrapers. She felt physically and emotionally horrible as the sun beat down on her. She had closed her husband in the truck and simply left him. She had rolled up the windows and closed the doors; the thought of some animal eating him was too much for her to stomach, so she decided he should be sealed in as though he were in a mausoleum. Ahead, she saw trees and bushes and possibly small buildings in the distance, but she thought that there was no way she’d make it. Her backpack was heavy with items, including the large handgun her uncle had given her. She thought about taking her small handgun but decided she might need to have a large one for extra security. She regretted the decision though; she felt like her bag was trying to pull her down.
Once again, she had to force herself to block out the bad thoughts and focus on something else. Geri, Evergreen—everything seemed to be running in circles in her head. She was so focused on not thinking about things that she didn’t see the large crack in the road and tripped and fell over. She landed hard on her hands and knees. Examining herself, she found blood on both knees and her right hand. Cursing the conditions of the road, she climbed back to her feet. She picked the rocks out of her skin and lumbered on, like a boxer who refused to stay down. The thought of the road cracking made her think about the mega city she was from. The streets and sidewalks were perfect there, no buckles and no holes—not like the roads she had driven on for the last few days. Houston’s streets seemed to be well taken care of. Why are the roads between the cities so bad? she wondered. Because no one takes care of them, of course. But why doesn’t anyone take care of them? Because no one lives there, so no one needs to drive on them. Why doesn’t anyone live between the cities? Because they were pushed to the cities, she thought, and realized she was again thinking in circles.
Frustrated, Claire glanced up, hoping the nearest building would be closer, but it was still far away. What if someone wanted to make it harder to travel between the cities? Tim had talked about companies no longer caring about money but focusing on power. Getting more people into your city would give you more power, she thought. The thought of it being a choice was dashed away when she thought it was simply the illusion of choice. The sun began to set, and she seemed no closer to the buildings. The sky turned an incredibly bright orange that looked like the universe was backlit by a raging fire. The color slowly faded to a thick purple as darkness took over. Ahead, the lights from the massive buildings cast an eerie glow into the sky. Claire enjoyed the cooler temperature with the sun down but saw that after the first few stumbles, walking in the dark wouldn’t work. She knew she could keep walking, but she’d probably get hurt, so she gathered some leaves for a makeshift bed and lay down on the grass next to the highway.
She looked up at the stars but saw far fewer than she had on the road. She rolled around, trying to get comfortable. The leaves were itchy on her neck and head. She wondered, for the millionth time, what she was doing here. She had a comfortable life in Houston, but now she was sleeping in the dirt on the side of an abandoned highway. After a long time thinking of Michael, she realized right now was the worst moment of her life. She felt it was almost a freeing experience, though—like she was at the bottom and had looked around and decided she could survive. She closed her eyes and realized there was only one direction to go from here.
Multiple times throughout the night, she was awoken by sounds from the nearby trees, as well as the quickly dropping temperature. By the time the sun rose, she thought she’d gotten only an hour of sleep. Sitting up, she saw that the road seemed to run on forever in both directions. She could now clearly see the unbroken line of the massive buildings of Miami in the distance. They looked closer than she remembered. She looked in the opposite direction and could barely see the old truck where her husband lay dead. She took a couple of drinks from her last water bottle and thought about Michael for a few minutes. She knew Michael wouldn’t want her to stop. She took a deep breath, stood slowly, and began walking again. Her muscles had never been so sore before.
Despite Claire’s desperate situation, she looked forward to something but she couldn’t place her finger on what it was. She tried to relax and clear her mind, but the cities were all she could think about. When she started to question her preconceived notions about the cities, she realized it was the questions she was looking forward to. She felt she was seeing her world for the first time; she was excitedly questioning every fact she’d been thought in school and by the news. She began to recognize that she and almost everyone she knew were very uninformed about their world. She thought she had the choice to live in the block she lived in, but in reality there was nowhere else to live. Other apartments or houses were very expensive. Someone controlled who lived in which block, who moved up, and who moved out. She was led to believe it was a raffle and pure luck got you to the highest blocks, but it was controlled. She had thought not being able to get a car was a choice, but it was controlled. And the fact that flights were blocked—that was controlled too. Claire’s first instinct was to assume it was the Central controlling everything. But maybe Tim was right, maybe it was, as he put it, some rich assholes.
She walked on with her head down, eyeing the array of cracks and buckles that attempted to trip her up. She had taken a spare shirt and covered her head with it to block the sun, which was beginning to beat down on her again. After hours of walking, she looked up and was jolted by the closeness of the city. The buildings towered in the distance like the walls of a great castle—a seemingly unbroken line of structures that scared Claire to the bone. She thought of all the news reports, the terrible stories about this city.
All the Houston news agencies said the same thing about Miami (and New York, Chicago, and Los Angeles)—it was hell on earth. How could all the news agencies get together and lie about that? It was impossible or was it? Choice. Claire had the choice regarding which news channels to watch; she could choose the one that supported the Houston mayor’s office or the one that opposed it. She could choose the one that wanted less spending on the Standing Army and more on infrastructure or the one that wanted more spending on the Standing Army and less on infrastructure. Choice. But they all agreed about Miami.
Fear coursed through her as she thought of navigating Miami by herself. She thought of what Tim had told her about his having kidnapped people. He mentioned that the news seemed to be in on the scheme. But what would she do if the city was as bad as everyone said? She examined the tall buildings, and everything seemed to look a lot like Houston. She thought of what Tim had said—if someone put out fake news about the Billies, what was stopping them from putting out fake news about Miami? Maybe it was ju
st an illusion. Maybe Claire no longer knew what was real.
CHAPTER 30
The last of her water was long gone, and thirst began to cloud all her thoughts. The sun had set, and the sky was a beautiful orange again, but Claire couldn’t be bothered to enjoy it. She felt completely roasted from the all-day walk. The roads were in much better condition now, so she decided to walk through the night. Her head hung down, and she dragged the bottoms of her feet as she shuffled along. Soon it was very dark, and Claire had a hard time seeing the road. She didn’t know how many hours she’d been walking and was having a hard time remembering why she was walking anyway.
When she finally raised her head again, she was stunned that she was much closer to the buildings than she had thought. She saw lights on in the tall buildings that ran as far as she could see both to her left and her right, but even more amazing, the lights climbed straight above her. After much internal debate, the thousands of lights gave Claire a more comfortable feeling. She decided if the city was as bad as the news said, then there wouldn’t be so many lights. As she walked toward the blanket of buildings, she felt unprepared, like she would need some kind of a pass to enter the city.
She saw a four-story apartment building that looked almost like a miniature version of a block from Houston. It was only a few hundred yards ahead of her; it seemed every light was on in every window. A feeling of relief flooded her as she realized her journey was almost over. The good feeling ended when she realized she was completely alone, a stranger, walking in the dark, to an unknown block, in Miami—a town she had heard so many bad things about. A town she was told was evil in every way. She had done a lot of thinking on the long trip here and felt like a new person, a grownup. She was seriously beginning to wonder if Tim was right and everything she knew was a facade, but did that include Miami?
As Claire reached the building, she trembled. She felt the stories about this city had to be made up. She attempted to convince herself she would be fine, but every cell in her body was pulling her back to the safety of the street, the safety of the dark, of her city. She walked to the front of the small building and approached the glass door past the empty parking lot. From the safety of the darkness, she examined the lobby. There was an elevator on the right, and on the left there was a small couch with a side table and a vase of flowers. It looked like the lobby of any apartment block. She walked up the three steps and entered the empty lobby. The bright light hurt her eyes. She squinted and looked around. When her eyes adjusted, she took a deep breath, looked around, and smiled to herself. Of course the stories were fake. Miami wasn’t the insane chaotic mess everyone had said. But when she looked above the couch, terror flowed through her body and out of her mouth as a scream. What she saw confirmed her fears: these people were monsters.
CHAPTER 31
It took Claire a few horrible seconds to realize what she was seeing. It was a giant mirror, and the person she saw staring back was herself. Her face was covered in dirt, and clumps of dirt and leaves were packed into her hair. She was much skinnier than she had remembered, and her skin was much darker.
“Oh, my God,” she said bringing her hand to her face.
She used both hands in an attempt to brush her hair down and pick out the debris. She sat down on the couch as she worked with her hair. The cushioned seat felt better than any seat she’d ever felt. The flowers in the vase next to her gave off a beautiful scent that filled her nose, sending a wave of calm through her body. As she picked at her hair, she felt her eyelids grow heavy. The pleasant thought of staying right where she was and taking a quick nap filled her mind.
She was awoken a short time later by the glass door being opened behind her. She shot up and locked eyes with a woman who was standing in the doorway, holding a large paper bag of what Claire assumed was food. The woman looked about Claire’s age and was wearing a long white skirt and floral print tank top that clung to her body. Her hair was cut into a short but stylish pixie cut and even across the room Claire could tell she had gorgeously clear eyes.
“Are you okay? You don’t look so good.” the young woman asked, stepping forward.
“Yes, I’m fine!” Claire blurted out, trying to sound calm but failing.
“Wow. You are not fine. Do you live here? Did someone hurt you or something?” The woman had a slight accent that Claire hadn’t heard before.
“I’m fine,” Claire repeated, looking in any direction but at the woman.
“Um, okay. I guess you’re okay then,” the woman said, starting for the elevator. After she pressed the button to summon the elevator, a few seconds of awkward silence passed before the ping sounded and the elevator doors slid open. Claire was frozen, staring off at nothing, trying to look calm even though thoughts were racing through her mind; should she ask the woman for help? What else was she going to do? She seemed fine, but what if she wasn’t? Claire really wanted to just take the woman’s bag of food and run out the door but she sat there, frozen. The woman stepped into the elevator and pressed a button. Claire had to decide; her heart was pounding and her mind was racing. Catching another glance of herself in the mirror, she spun around and yelled the only thing she could think of: “I ain’t some criminal, you know!”
The young woman’s face twisted into shock and fear as she repeatedly jammed the “close” door button. Claire couldn’t believe she had just said that; she realized how insane she must have sounded. The doors began to slide shut. “I’m sorry. My husband just died,” Claire cried out. The doors closed with a thud.
Tears filled Claire’s eyes. What was she going to do? She looked like an insane homeless person—who would possibly help her? A thought flashed into her mind: what if she never made it out of Miami? What if she died on the streets, so many miles from where she belonged? Just then, an electric ping noise sounded as the door slid open and the young woman appeared again. She stepped out of the elevator, walked to Claire, and sat next to her. Sitting in the quiet, well-lit lobby, Claire wondered how bad she smelled.
“My name’s Rebecca. What’s yours?” the woman asked.
“I’m Claire,” she said through her tears.
“Can I help you?”
“I don’t know. I’m so thirsty. I’m not from here. I’m lost and dirty. I don’t know.”
“It’s okay. You’re okay,” Rebecca said reaching into her bag and finding an orange. She presented it to Claire, who snatched it up, ripped off the peel, and devoured the insides.
Rebecca watched in shock and slight disgust. “You said your husband died. Is that right?”
“Yes,” Claire pushed out through her full mouth.
“Did he just die? Do we need to call the police?”
Claire decided she needed to stop looking insane. She finished her mouthful and brought the remains of the orange away from her face. “We don’t need the police—at least I don’t think,” she said, attempting to look calm.
“If you don’t know, then it’s probably better that we call them. Where is he?” Rebecca inquired.
“He’s in my truck. It’s about a day’s walk back that way,” Claire said pointing into the darkness.
“You came from out there? In a truck? Then why are you walking?” Rebecca said.
“It’s a very long story.”
Rebecca looked concerned. “Okay, but what neighborhood are you from? And why in the world were you out there? There’s nothing out there.”
“I’m not from here. I’m from Houston,” Claire said quietly.
A look of shock swept across Rebecca’s face. “You’re from Houston? That’s not possible.”
“I am—I swear. We drove here. It took us days,” Claire said as she dug into her backpack and retrieved her zippered wallet. Rebecca noticeably flinched when Claire pulled it out.
“What? What’s wrong?” Claire said, looking confused.
“Oh, nothing.”
Claire removed her bus pass, which had a picture of her on it. On top, in bold letters it read, “Mega City Ho
uston Mass Transit.”
Rebecca examined the card and looked back at Claire with a very concerned, nearly scared look.
“I promise I’m not crazy, and I’m not going to hurt you,” Claire said.
Rebecca hesitated then, with a slight smile, invited Claire to her apartment.
CHAPTER 32
Rebecca’s apartment was on the top floor and in the far corner. It was slightly larger than Claire’s and looked cozy. Rebecca had a large cat named Sam but no other roommate. She had graciously let Claire shower and clean herself up. On the elevator ride up, Claire had begun to tell her about Houston and the trip. This was enough to slightly ease Rebecca’s tension. Claire took a long, refreshing shower. Every part of her body ached, and the warm water felt terrific. Claire was surprised to find that she didn’t recognize the brands of any of the products in the bathroom.