*
He walked solemnly for several minutes, mindful of where he trod, knowing that a misstep could lead to death. As he approached the stream, his heart sank another notch. Could any living thing survive in these conditions, let alone humans? He took a deep breath and immediately regretted it as deadly airborne pollutants filled his lungs, causing wracking coughs that lasted for several minutes. His podsuit, a basic garment not designed for protection, provided no sanctuary from the death filled air. He ripped a small portion of his sleeve off and used it as a rudimentary gas mask. It would not really help, but it put his mind at ease as his body slowly shut down, the pollution gradually sapping his strength.
After almost an hour of walking, Barsch neared the end of the valley. His body cried out in pain as his newly awakened muscles were pushed beyond their nascent limits. Since he last looked, the speck of green had blossomed into a horizontal strip of foliage. The emerald leaves and earthly brown bark a brazen statement about the tenacity of nature. On either side of the living wood lay miles of white stumps, suggesting that the grove was the last remnant of a once great forest that had been felled by man and time. At his current pace, it would be another half-hour of walking to reach the sanctuary.
However, given how each step had grown slightly shorter, and his vision had begun to blur at the edges, he reasoned that he would not reach the shelter in time. Before the Great Sleep, such a journey would have been easy, but with his weak body and the pollutant rich air, it was more akin to running a marathon. In order to reach the grove before his body gave up, he would have to redouble his efforts.
Using pure willpower to force his tortured limbs to move, Barsch began to pick up speed. His slow trot became a fierce sprint, and the dead landscape started to blur. “Faster!” he cried, trying to send the thought to his aching legs and enable them to make it a reality. And they did, to his amazement.
It was as if his body had been storing all of its energy since he had first closed his eyes, and was now releasing it all in one burst of activity. Three hundred feet, two-fifty… the grove called to him, a siren song of hope that robbed him of his pain.
One-fifty, one hundred… he could almost taste the water from the clear forest pool. Fifty feet, twenty, ten, zero… he had made it… although it had cost him greatly. If his legs had been on fire before, they had become molten now. His lungs burned with every breath, depriving him of the oxygen he now needed more than ever. His vision was filled with black smudges, and thinking anything other than, “I made it!” was impossible.
Awakening Page 5