The next electronic photographs were just as powerful. The classroom saw a city. It wasn’t like their city, though. While the remains of their buildings were caked in heavy resin to protect the concrete and the supporting iron from the looming salty fog, the city in front of her had towering glass sculptures, like upright mirrored fingers touching the sky. It was an amazing city, with highways threading in and out, like the spun sheep-yarn in her mother’s knitting basket. There was no ugly, foul-smelling fog. There was no concern for mordant salts invading everywhere and everything, eating at the metals and flattening what had once stood tall.
Another electronic photograph showed groups of people and families gathering in a vast park. Large blankets made of luxurious materials were laid with care on the groomed lawns. She noticed that some of the blankets bore flashy red colors that matched her unusual hair. Smiling, she reached up and rolled a strand between two fingers; she unexpectedly felt a little less lonely. The blankets were covered with baskets of food. There were mothers and fathers of different shapes, sizes, and colors; a few even resembled her, with the same pale skin, bright eyes, and sun-colored hair. They watched their children, who were running about freely. There was no hesitation when they moved; nobody was afraid to walk or run. There were no worries of stumbling over something, no fear of falling, or of crashing into obstacles that were hidden by the fog. There was just blissful freedom to move.
The open expanse was greater than any distance that Sammi could ever have dreamed of. Her dreams were always the same as her reality, with fog-laden walks that slowed her step to a mere crawl. She thought of how they measured distance here: by the number of hands you could see before your fingers disappeared into the fog.
It would take a million hands to cover the distance of that park. As she considered this, the elation she’d felt earlier suddenly drifted away, and she was left saddened by their circumstance. Sammi cast her eyes down at her desk. She’d seen enough. When the sound of crying reached her ears, she knew that she wasn’t alone in what she felt.
“Thank you, Andie. I think that is enough,” Ms. Gilly said in an anxious tone. As quick as a blink, the world in front of Sammi disappeared, and they were back in their classroom.
Tabby Wetton held her palms to her face and sobbed.
“Tabby? Tabby, what’s wrong?” Declan asked, kneeling down so that his face was even with hers. Tabby paused for a moment, but then shook her head, reluctant to lower her hands.
“Tabby,” he started, and then put his hand on the young girl’s shoulder. “Tabby, it’s okay. Those were images of our world a long time ago.” She lowered her hands, and turned to face Declan. Sammi could see that she’d probably been crying since the beginning: her eyes were swollen, and her cheeks were wet.
“It’s so big,” she said, her voice shaky and choked.
“What is?”
“That world!” she cried. “It’s too big! If the VAC-Machines work today, then how could we ever live in a world that big?”
Declan consoled her, rubbing her shoulder. Sammi could tell that he was considering what Tabby had said. She was considering it, too. Ms. Gilly, who was tapping a finger to her mouth, must have certainly been considering the profoundness of the little girl’s words. Generations removed from the past, they’d only ever known their world as it was today. What would happen later that afternoon? It would be like lifting a blanket that had covered Earth for centuries. The thought of what might be revealed was frightening.
“I’m scared, too,” Sammi said, jumping up as questions exploded in her mind. Heads turned. “Tabby, you’re right to be afraid. We don’t know what the world is going to be like when the fog lifts. We don’t know if it can ever be like the world that Andie just showed us. We just don’t know.” She felt the stares and thought they were all feeling it, too: uncertainty.
Sammi looked to Declan, and he gave her a nod. She turned back to Tabby and continued. “But, Tabby, think about what we could find, and what we’ll be able to do! Think about being able to run, to actually run as fast as we want! Or to look up into the sky! Our sky! Who knows, but maybe the birds will come back? Maybe butterflies? Maybe we can grow our food outdoors, and plant our fruit trees outside. Just maybe we can do better than we’re doing now.” More of the class was nodding, their eyes sharing her enthusiasm.
“And we’re going to see the sun!” Declan cheered, and began to clap his hands together. The classroom joined in, as did Ms. Gilly. More importantly, Tabby started clapping, too.
“Okay, class,” Ms. Gilly began, yelling over the raucous cheers, while she thumped her hand against the top of her desk. “We’re calling it an early day so that you can all prepare for this afternoon. We’re about seven hours from the End of Gray Skies. That leaves plenty of time for you to go to your dwellings and do your check-ins with your floor advisors. They won’t mind that it’s early—not today, anyway. But, keep in mind, in seven hours, you’ll want to be with your families and friends, and…” Ms. Gilly stopped mid-sentence. The interruption pulled Sammi’s head up. Grabbing at her mouth, Ms. Gilly seemed overwhelmed by what she was about to say.
“In seven hours, you’ll want to be with your families and your friends when the sun comes out,” Ms. Gilly finished with a shudder in her voice. Sammi wondered who Ms. Gilly would be standing with. She wondered whom she called family. Surely she had friends, but she had missed her time; she’d never have children of her own.
Ms. Gilly stood behind her desk, gesturing small waves to the children as they left her class. Declan stepped in front of Sammi, blocking Ms. Gilly from her view.
“Are you ready?” he asked, and motioned toward the door. The butterflies yawned and stretched inside her, pushing out a broad smile that she couldn’t hide, no matter how hard she tried. Declan was intrigued, and bumped her arm.
“What is it?” he asked. He furrowed his brow while she tried again to stifle her grin.
“I’ve got a secret,” she finally admitted.
“A secret?” Declan sounded intrigued.
“I’m going to tell you what it is… but not until later.”
“Promise?”
“I promise!”
Sammi grabbed her things, and held Declan’s hand as they waved goodbye to Ms. Gilly.
4
ABANDONING THE SAFETY OF their classroom, Declan was surprised by what was outside. The early afternoon fog was a much finer mist than what he was used to seeing. It wasn’t at all like the pillow-heavy gray they’d come to expect for that time of day. A quick glance at Sammi’s face revealed a pleasant awe in her expression, too. He waved his hand, catching an errant patch of hanging moisture. No itch or burn, either. The air wasn’t just clearer; it was less caustic.
“Fog is thin today,” Declan mumbled. “I can see three or four dozen hands in front of us.” He stood a moment, taking in the view. Being able to see such a distance spurred a playful excitement. The air was clear enough to actually run free, something they hadn’t been able to do in a long time. And with that thought, Declan lifted his feet, eager to sprint ahead.
Sammi clutched his hand and let out a breathy shrill, readying to run with him. “When was the last time we could see this far?” she asked, nodding as her attention turned to the kids racing around them. “Are the VAC-Machines already working?”
Declan shrugged, unable to answer her question. Instead, they did what they’d always done when the fog was thin: played.
He felt giddy, even a little silly, and wondered if Sammi felt it too. They knotted their fingers together and stretched their arms out, running ahead of the other kids before spinning round and round. Feeding on the adrenaline and dangers of moving so freely, their exhilaration escaped them in childish laughs. A few of the younger children twirled past them, running from one another in a game of fast-tag. Declan reminisced, wanting to jump in, but instead he kept hold of Sammi’s hand.
They slowed when they heard a dense thud. Shallower thumps sounded next, and he was cer
tain that the fast-tag game had abruptly ended. Breathless groans soon followed, and Declan covered his mouth, trying to swallow a hard laugh rising in his throat. Sammi slapped his arm for laughing, and hollered to the children.
“No cracked heads?”
“We’re fine,” a warbled voice chirped back.
“Okay, then… looks like the fog is coming back in. Go play fast-tag indoors, where it’s safe. Understand?” Her voice was stern, but amused. Declan mocked Sammi’s guidance until she nudged her shoulder into his chest.
“Don’t make fun of me. They could’ve been hurt.”
Declan turned his teasing smirk down, batting his eyelashes at her until the frown she’d held was gone. Sammi playfully slapped him again, but then wrapped her hands around his arm. Declan’s heart quickened with passion that was new to him.
Looking around, Declan saw that she was right: the fog was becoming thick again. They must have been in a clearing: a big clearing that had settled around their school. Declan took another look at the schoolyard, knowing it would soon disappear.
Out of the approaching fog, a young mother and her two children bounced off Declan, knocking him to his hands and knees. The ground was unforgiving and wet. He cringed, and his leg ached almost immediately where his knee had kissed the hard stone.
“I’m sorry,” the mother panted. And before she could say anything else, one of the children blindly raced ahead of them into the fog. The mother shook her head with weary frustration, and moaned a disgruntled turn of words. Declan watched her grab hold of a tether strap, jerking it downward with a hard swing. Creaking against the strain, the thin weave of braided goat’s wool offered little stretch. The tether strap held, and he heard the child thump onto the ground and yell out to his mother.
I’ve done that… more than a few times, he remembered fondly, thinking of his mother and sister. Though most of the time, he recalled, it was his sister racing ahead to hide in the fog. And if not for the tether straps, their mother might never have seen them again. The thought of his mother and sister brought a pang of sorrow that caught his breath. It took him another moment to wrestle away the emotion, but soon enough it was gone. It pained him some, but he was getting better at pushing away the memory of them.
The young mother knelt down next to Declan, and pulled the tether strap toward her body. She dragged her child out of the fog until he was safely next to her. Sammi’s laughing prodded a chuckle from Declan. The humor helped ease the pain in his knee. Getting back to his feet, he tried to shake out the throb, but that only seemed to make it worse. As the mother chastised her child, she offered another apology, and then briskly disappeared back into the fog. Soon, silence and blindness were upon them again.
Colorless and morbid, the gray enveloped them, just as it had every day of their lives. The heavy fog was dank and thick with the smell of salt. Beneath the salt, Declan found a pungent odor that scratched his throat and cramped his lungs. He held his breath and waited out the smell, but knew what he was really doing was adjusting to it. Immediately his lungs felt heavier. The congestion made him think of the waste-recycler filters—the ones that trapped the thousands of words he’d written—and how dingy those filters were.
Could the clouds be giant filters, trapped by their own weight? He took a breath, and swallowed more of the foul, salty taste. The salt stole the purity of everything good. By now, he knew what to expect, and wondered if he’d ever taste clean air.
The air had begun to seep through their coveralls, and he felt the first irritations attack his skin. When Sammi let go of him, patting down her sleeves, he was certain that she felt it, too. With the fog breaching their coveralls, the salts leeched the moisture from their bodies. The thick cloud was coming in fast, so the scratchiness would only last a few minutes. They’d adjust to it.
Survival is about adjustment, Declan thought. Has been for centuries.
Declan forgot about the irritation on his skin when he realized that something was different. He shifted where he stood, and held his hands up, listening. Sammi gave him a look, questioning his peculiar behavior, but then understood what he was doing.
Their Commune was close to one of the great oceans—and on some days, they could hear waves crashing onto the black sands of the shore. Some days, they could even hear the fishing parties, whooping it up after they’d had a catch. After all, fish of any kind was a rare delicacy.
But today, Declan heard something else: a low hum that hung in the fog, like a tiny salt-gnat buzzing about his ears. He listened past the breaking waves. He listened until he finally figured out what was pulling at his curiosity.
“Can you hear it?” he asked, exhilarated by the revelation. Sammi tried to listen. Her eyes narrowed to mere slits as she offered him an eager, wishful grin. Declan watched her smile open, but then saw her expression change to concern, and then to fear. She didn’t know the sound, or what to make of it, and began to back away. For a moment, Declan thought that she might turn around and run. He squeezed her fingers, assuring her that they were safe. The sound was mechanical, but to them, it might as well have been alien.
Their world was a mostly silent one. Machines of every shape, size, and purpose had expired centuries before, leaving behind nothing but their rusted skeletons. Some remained hollow carcasses—withered reminders that time forgot—while others had deteriorated into indistinguishable piles of rust. But VAC-Machines were protected; they always had been.
“Declan, what is that?”
“It’s the VAC-Machine closest to us.”
“But… but that can’t be. Can it? The VAC-Machine is a few days’ walk from here.”
“That has to be where the sound is coming from. I’m sure of it! My father said that we might be able to hear it today. Heck, he said that the machines are so big, we might even be able to feel the nearest one working.”
Declan knelt, easing himself down, and laid his hands on the ground. Sammi followed. Small vibrations coursed up into his hands and arms. Sammi’s expression exploded with excitement. Declan let out a light laugh. They’d never felt anything like it.
“This is crazy,” she murmured.
“It reminds me of the energy cells,” he answered. “They can vibrate too.”
“Yeah, but nothing like this.” She shook her head. “I think I can feel it in my feet, too.” Standing, she offered her hand to him. Declan reached, grabbed it, and pulled himself up. As he stood, he closed the space between them.
“Is there something wrong with the machine?”
With just a hand or two between them, Declan lost himself in her green eyes and the smell of her hair. Her skin was white and smooth, void of a single wrinkle or blemish. Her face was unlike most. Even his own skin had begun to be affected by the fog: stray lines etching deep cuts around his mouth and eyes. Though Sammi’s skin was more sensitive to the air, he could see none of the wrinkles that most their age wore.
Sammi thumped his chest and asked, “Well? What do you think this means?” Declan was quick to take hold of her hand, keeping it against his heart.
“My father told me that the machines have to work five years before a conversion can happen,” he answered. “Think about it: all the machines together, they’re going to change everything! We’ll be able to see—and run!”
“But in class you’d said the machines stayed on? That they’d always been on?”
Declan stopped and considered this. “I don’t think the machines were ever turned off. Not completely, anyway.” Declan waved away a foggy streamer that had floated between them. “When the clouds fell, the engineers reconfigured the machines to try and undo the accident. But whatever that change was, it takes all five machines, working together.”
“Why, though? What difference is a day from a week or a year?”
Declan shook his head and thought of his mother. She’d known more about the VAC-Machines than anyone else in their Commune. But even then she’d spared little information to those closest to her. As a four-ba
nd executive, her days were filled with leadership meetings, with working with the Selectmen and Oversight committees. Sometimes, she’d talk about conferring with representatives from Communes across their region, and even across the territories. But what Declan liked to hear about most was her work with the VAC-Machine teams. He frowned then, thinking about how his mother couldn’t tell them more of what he wanted to know.
“It’s all such a big secret,” his dad had argued with her once.
“There are some things I just can’t discuss!” Declan remembered her yelling back.
Declan didn’t think that his mother would mind if he shared with Sammi what it was that she’d told him.
“It has something to do with what the machines are storing for the End of Gray Skies. They’re mining. It’s how they work now, different from what they were built to do. At first, it was just the ocean water they’d convert, but now they’re digging deep into the earth, deeper than any machine has ever gone. Every five years, they’ve mined enough to try the conversion again.”
End of Gray Skies: An Apocalyptic Thriller Page 4