Whittier, appearing large only in relation to the
buildings around it. There was one building, likely a marine
fueling station out near the water, which had burned down to its
foundation, devouring most of the dock as well. That appeared to be
the worst of it though.
Aside from those structural casualties, the
city was intact, if dramatically sad and lonely. Though still
standing, the buildings reminded them of relics from days gone by
whose use had long since passed.
There were cars too; most had been abandoned
where they sat when their occupants fled on foot. Facing in every
direction imaginable, the vehicles were knotted into a
bumper-to-bumper permanent traffic jam. It was a sea of metal and
glass that disappeared out of sight into the bent horizon. Many
likely had idled with engines running until the gasoline had been
spent. Neil was hopeful that perhaps a motorist or two had turned
the ignition off before fleeing. Maybe there was a car down there
that could be driven.
Or a boat. There were dozens of boats
resting on their trailers high above the cars and trucks
surrounding them; almost as many boats as cars. The taller sea
craft added a depth to the vehicular press, making it resemble a
metropolitan skyline in miniature.
Further beyond, Neil could see the large
white frame of a cruise ship. Even from this distance, the boat
looked like a ghost ship. It rose and fell gently, effortlessly,
and lifelessly. The monstrous craft was listing a bit to its
starboard side.
The breeze blew, sending loose plastic bags
and other odds and ends off the ground in search of some other
place to rest. Atop a flagpole fluttered two flags, one with stars
and stripes and the other with a field of blue and a yellow
constellation of stars. From where Neil and the others watched,
that was the only movement any of them could see.
The stillness was unsettling. Nothing moved.
Not a bird in the sky or an animal in sight.
Neil spotted random piles of garbage or
perhaps discarded piles of laundry. He knew better though. If he
were to stand close enough, he suspected that he would confirm
otherwise, that he would see clothing ripped asunder and bones
picked clean of flesh. There would likely be crusty rust-colored
stains on the pavement and cloth as well.
It was obvious to him that the calamity had
preceded them once again.
Neil looked over his shoulder at Jules,
Nikki, and Danny, and wished there was some way to shield them from
all of that. Despite all that had happened and all they had already
seen, he still only wanted to protect them from the grim realities
this new world had to offer.
Standing next to him, Jerry said, “I see
some of them.” The younger man, peering through the scope of his
hunting rifle, pointed deeper into town.
Neil asked, “How many?”
“A few dozen maybe. Maybe more. I can’t tell
for sure.”
Neil removed his hat and scratched his
shaggy head in the same motion. Again, they needed a plan.
They were close to a parking lot filled with
buses, recreational vehicles, cars, trucks, and vans, parked in a
neat, orderly fashion off to one side of the Anton Anderson
Memorial Tunnel exit. Neil found that very curious.
The city was as silent as the grave; not
even a single gull was singing. The snow, thick and heavy on the
mountain and the Portage Highway beyond, had barely touched
Whittier yet, though the threat of winter hung heavily all around.
A light dusting of white was struggling to hold its ground in the
shadows, but the sun and the moist air coming from the Sound had
nearly banished this first taste of winter to another day.
Emma checked the magazine on her assault
rifle and pounded it back into the weapon. Stepping closer, she
asked, “So, what’s the plan then?”
“I guess we should get down there and take a
closer look,” Neil said hesitantly. “Jerry already spotted some of
our friends, so stay sharp. Try not to shoot unless you absolutely
have to. If we can take them down without drawing
buildings around it. There was one building, likely a marine
fueling station out near the water, which had burned down to its
foundation, devouring most of the dock as well. That appeared to be
the worst of it though.
Aside from those structural casualties, the
city was intact, if dramatically sad and lonely. Though still
standing, the buildings reminded them of relics from days gone by
whose use had long since passed.
There were cars too; most had been abandoned
where they sat when their occupants fled on foot. Facing in every
direction imaginable, the vehicles were knotted into a
bumper-to-bumper permanent traffic jam. It was a sea of metal and
glass that disappeared out of sight into the bent horizon. Many
likely had idled with engines running until the gasoline had been
spent. Neil was hopeful that perhaps a motorist or two had turned
the ignition off before fleeing. Maybe there was a car down there
that could be driven.
Or a boat. There were dozens of boats
resting on their trailers high above the cars and trucks
surrounding them; almost as many boats as cars. The taller sea
craft added a depth to the vehicular press, making it resemble a
metropolitan skyline in miniature.
Further beyond, Neil could see the large
white frame of a cruise ship. Even from this distance, the boat
looked like a ghost ship. It rose and fell gently, effortlessly,
and lifelessly. The monstrous craft was listing a bit to its
starboard side.
The breeze blew, sending loose plastic bags
and other odds and ends off the ground in search of some other
place to rest. Atop a flagpole fluttered two flags, one with stars
and stripes and the other with a field of blue and a yellow
constellation of stars. From where Neil and the others watched,
that was the only movement any of them could see.
The stillness was unsettling. Nothing moved.
Not a bird in the sky or an animal in sight.
Neil spotted random piles of garbage or
perhaps discarded piles of laundry. He knew better though. If he
were to stand close enough, he suspected that he would confirm
otherwise, that he would see clothing ripped asunder and bones
picked clean of flesh. There would likely be crusty rust-colored
stains on the pavement and cloth as well.
It was obvious to him that the calamity had
preceded them once again.
Neil looked over his shoulder at Jules,
Nikki, and Danny, and wished there was some way to shield them from
all of that. Despite all that had happened and all they had already
seen, he still only wanted to protect them from the grim realities
this new world had to offer.
Standing next to him, Jerry said, “I see
some of them.” The younger man, peering through the scope of his
hunting rifle, pointed deeper into town.
Neil asked, “How many?”
“A few dozen maybe. Maybe more. I can’t tell
for sure.”
Neil removed his hat and scratched his
shaggy head in the same motion. Again, they needed a plan.
They were close to a parking lot filled with
buses, recreational vehicles, cars, trucks, and vans, parked in a
neat, orderly fashion off to one side of the Anton Anderson
Memorial Tunnel exit. Neil found that very curious.
The city was as silent as the grave; not
even a single gull was singing. The snow, thick and heavy on the
mountain and the Portage Highway beyond, had barely touched
Whittier yet, though the threat of winter hung heavily all around.
A light dusting of white was struggling to hold its ground in the
shadows, but the sun and the moist air coming from the Sound had
nearly banished this first taste of winter to another day.
Emma checked the magazine on her assault
rifle and pounded it back into the weapon. Stepping closer, she
asked, “So, what’s the plan then?”
“I guess we should get down there and take a
closer look,” Neil said hesitantly. “Jerry already spotted some of
our friends, so stay sharp. Try not to shoot unless you absolutely
have to. If we can take them down without drawing
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