Tag: wasteland diaries

#oneaday Day 654: Wasteland Diaries, Part 2

I'm not sure how long I slept, but unlike when I'd awoken previously, this time I felt somewhat refreshed. The building I was in was still almost completely pitch dark, but I could see a glimmer of light coming in from around the doorframe.

I pulled open the door and let in the daylight. The sun was up and the sky was blue, with barely any clouds to be seen. A light breeze was blowing, but it was clear that today was going to be a warm day.

I considered stepping out into the heat of the day, but paused for a moment on the threshold before turning back into the building to investigate further. I'm not sure what made me do this — maybe I caught a glimpse of something, maybe I heard something, perhaps it was just an irrational feeling I had, without any reasonable explanation. But I felt it was important. There was something here.

Even with the light of the day coming in through the front door, the corridor I was in was still dark. I had to feel my way along until I came to a staircase leading upwards. I tentatively placed a foot on the first step — it creaked, but it seemed to bear my weight just fine. Little by little, I gingerly crept up the stairs, hoping with each movement that I wouldn't find the one rotten board and fall through, causing myself injury.

When I made it to the top, I breathed a sigh of relief. It was still dark, but I could see a hint of light coming from somewhere — under a door, perhaps? I felt my way through the oppressive darkness towards the light and fumbled around on the wall. It was indeed a door, and if I could just find the handle I could–

My hand hit the sweet spot unexpectedly and pushed the door open a little harder than I'd intended. I stumbled forwards and the door banged against something inside the room. Light was coming in through a window in the room, bringing some much-needed illumination to the gloom of the rest of the building.

Much of the room was still bathed in shadow but I could see enough to tell that it was a bedroom. A metal-framed bed stood to one side, its covers messed up. I mentally kicked myself for not investigating the building further and finding somewhere more comfortable than the hard floor of the corridor to rest, but it was too late now.

I quickly retracted my self-beratement when I realised that the rucked-up covers were not just rucked-up covers, but that there was something underneath them. Hands trembling with anticipation at what I might find, I slowly pulled back the duvet to reveal what appeared to be a sleeping woman, lying there on her side.

I let out a sharp breath. I wasn't alone. This woman was here. But she was — what? Asleep? Dead? I wasn't sure. She certainly wasn't moving, and there was no sound of breathing. She clasped something in her hand, but I couldn't see what it was.

"Uh, excuse me?" I said. My voice cracked. It felt like a very long time since I had used it. "Excuse me?" I said again, clearing my dry throat.

There was no response from the woman, who just continued to lie there. Although she wasn't moving or making noise, she didn't look dead, either. Her cheeks were still flushed with colour, her skin was still smooth, and there was no sign of decomposition anywhere. Was she dead, or just sleeping?

I looked her up and down, feeling slightly dirty and voyeuristic while doing so. She was a slender woman of I'd guess about thirty years of age. Her blonde hair fell around her shoulders but was obviously unkempt and unstyled while she lay in the bed. She was dressed in a black satin nightgown with small, thin straps which ran over her shoulders and then crossed over her back in an attractive pattern. She was good-looking, to be sure, but her pleasing appearance didn't stop the lingering feeling of unease I had.

I reached out to grab her by the shoulder and shake her gently, then paused for a moment. What would I say? Being rudely awakened by a strange man shaking her was probably not how she wanted to start the day. On the other hand, it was possible that she was in the same position as I was — bereft of memories, feeling that she was alone, wondering whether life was still worth living.

I steeled myself and moved my hand to touch her. As soon as my fingertips made contact, however, I drew them sharply back with a horrified intake of breath.

Before my eyes, at my touch, the woman crumbled to dust, a cloud of which simply blew into the air and scattered around the room, as if she'd never really been there at all and I'd just been beating on a dusty old mattress.

Had I imagined it? My mind had certainly been playing tricks on me recently with the voice — Adam, I miss you, it said over and over in moments when I needed clarity of thought — but had I hallucinated the existence of the strange woman?

Then I saw it on the bed. A small black object — presumably the thing she'd been holding in her hand. It was a portable touchscreen phone. A white wire connected to the bottom of it at one end, and snaked off somewhere to the side of the bed at the other. I followed the wire and found it led to an electrical socket. I couldn't tell from looking at it if it was still live or not, but felt it would be unlikely, given the surroundings.

My unspoken question was answered when the phone gave a soft buzz and its screen lit up, revealing a clock and a picture of a battery that appeared to be full. Curious, I reached out to pick up the phone, half expecting it to crumble to dust like the woman, but it remained reassuringly solid in my hand, but cold, like it had been kept in a fridge.

I pressed the only button I could see on the face of the phone. "Slide to unlock," the screen said.

I obliged.

#oneaday Day 653: Wasteland Diaries, Part 1

[A word of explanation: I'm not doing NaNoWriMo, as once again I've completely forgotten it was going on until it's too late. So as a kind of halfway house sort of solution, I've decided that every day this month (except, err, yesterday) will be devoted to a section of a piece of extended creative writing. This will be largely improvisatory in nature — I'm not going to plan it in advance, just write. I will aim for a bare minimum of 1,000 words per day but reserve the right to go above that.]

I remember the bright flash, and then everything faded to black. When I awoke, I was here, surrounded by utter devastation, with no idea why. I don't remember what the flash was, just that it happened. And the sounds — awful, terrible screaming, then silence, though that may just have been my own consciousness slipping away, unable to process the horrors that were undoubtedly being inflicted before me.

I awoke, lying on the floor, outside. Dust was everywhere. The hard concrete ground on which I lay was cracked and broken. My body ached, and I groaned as I pulled myself to my feet unsteadily. My muscles were stiff, like I hadn't used them for a lifetime, and I struggled to keep myself upright. I staggered over to a nearby low, crumbling wall and propped myself up against it, breathless with the exertion.

I surveyed my surroundings. This was obviously once a built-up area but now the buildings were just hollow, gutted shells of what they once were. Windows were smashed, walls were falling down — and there was no sign of any people anywhere. Just me. Alone. Against the world, with nothing — and not even a memory of why this was happening to make it easier to deal with.

I pulled off a chunk of loose brick from the wall I was leaning on and held it between my fingers, considering it, examining it. It told me nothing, and it was so fragile that it eventually crumbled to dust between my fingers, the small grey cloud it made sweeping away from me in the gentle breeze that flowed down this deserted, ruined street.

I pushed myself off from the wall and attempted to stand unaided. This didn't look like the sort of place I should hang around by myself, even if there were no people anywhere to be seen. Ducking into a building around here looked out of the question, as most of them looked unsafe, with collapsed doorways and unstable-looking walls giving me chills.

But still, no-one.

I heard a voice in my head. Adam, it said, smooth and feminine and slightly familiar — though the second I tried to call up the repressed, lost memory, it flitted away like a bug from a child. Adam, I miss you.

"Adam". I didn't know if it really was my name or not, but I decided to adopt it if anyone asked. If indeed there was anyone else left besides me.

It didn't bear thinking about, but there was nothing I could do if it did happen to be true. Besides, the voice in my head, though I didn't know who it was, was comforting somehow — it made me feel that I was less alone, even though the silence of the empty streets was becoming increasingly oppressive.

I picked a direction and started following the shattered road. I didn't know where I was going, but anything was better than standing on that blasted corner, contemplating things that I might never know. There was doubtless a long journey ahead of me, and I wasn't sure of its final destination — knowledge, or death?

My footsteps echoed in the empty street, and crunched on the crumbling paving slabs beneath my boots. I was walking slowly, but the sound of my feet — seemingly unnaturally loud thanks to the total absence of other sound around me — gave me something to focus on, a sense of purpose. I would not be defeated by that which had stripped the life from this city. I would press onward. I would survive.

As I progressed along the road, the damage to the buildings seemed to become somewhat less severe. While their windows were still shattered and broken, many still had intact doorways and walls, piquing my curiosity as to what I might find within. I picked a large building with what had obviously once been wall-height glass windows on the front, and stepped into the relative darkness within to investigate.

Row after row of shelves presented themselves before me. Some had toppled over, spreading their contents over the floor. Others remained upright, but had been mostly picked clean. A sour smell filled the air and, looking at the mouldy piles of scattered foodstuffs, it wasn't hard to see why.

I delved deeper into the darkness, making every effort to control my gag reflex as the sour smell grew stronger. Most of the packages had faded, but the odd thing caught my attention — dog food, washing powder, bottles of various brightly-coloured liquids. One aisle was filled with various metal implements, many of which were corroded, but I found myself a serviceable-looking sharp knife and pocketed it just in case I ran into any trouble. It wasn't looking likely right now, but it certainly didn't hurt to be careful.

Down another aisle, I found myself a battered-looking pack. I hoisted it onto my back, figuring that if I was going to scavenge any supplies from here, I'd better have something to put them in.

One aisle held row after row of metallic tinned goods. Some of the labels were still legible, though some had faded and some looked scorched. Some tins looked completely sealed and impossible to open, others had a ring pull on top which meant they could be opened easily. I scooped a selection into my pack and took them with me. The additional weight of my load took some getting used to, but by the time I emerged from the building into the street again, I was accustomed to it.

The sun was setting and the light was fading. I could feel the heat fading from the air, making way to a cool night-time breeze. I'd just woken from a slumber of I didn't know how long, so I didn't feel sleepy, though a curious, unidentifiable noise I heard in the distance as the light continued to dim made me feel that settling into some sort of shelter for the night might not be a bad idea afteer all.

I ducked into another building with an intact door and closed it firmly behind me. The metallic locking mechanism was corroded, but still seemed to work, so I bolted myself inside the building. The lack of windows meant that it was completely dark inside — not that it was much better outside by now.

I sat down on the floor and breathed deeply. Something truly terrible had happened, and I didn't know what. The worst part of it, though, was not knowing if I'd lost anyone important to me. So far as my memories were concerned, I was the only person there was — had been, and always would be.

Adam, came the voice again. I miss you.

So long as I could hear her, I couldn't believe that I was the only person alive. There had to be an explanation for all this, and I was going to find it.

Sleep claimed me quickly, despite the fact I'd only awoken an hour or two earlier, and I sank into a mental darkness free of cares, worries and dreams.