fruits of another dead tree.
We leave the camp and press on into the misty wood, which gives away to barren plains and vast spreads of nothing. In about an hour’s time, however, the harsh terrain gives to chunks of concrete and gravel—which I assume used to be part of a street. The sight of them excites me, because I haven’t yet seen remnants of the more modern world yet. Maybe these masses of cement are leftovers of a highway. Megan starts to play the curiosity game, of course, so I soon find myself explaining to her what cars are. Benjamin, being an Undead who hasn’t recalled the Old World yet, jumps in with his own questions, and suddenly I’m a guru of all things modern-world. I describe it all to them: trains, trucks, airplanes …
The pair of them think I’m making it all up, especially the part about machines that could take to the sky and quickly transport tons of people from one end of the planet to the other, until I explain that I’d ridden several. I remember not fondly the act of moving from one end of the country to the other. From a beachfront condo to the snowy hell in the north with bad internet.
The snowy hell in which I was asked to prom. The snowy hell in which my life would eventually end …
After all the reminiscing and explaining, I’m struck for a solid moment by how many things the world’s lost.
“Are you okay?” she asks.
I realize I’d come to a stop, overwhelmed. “Yes,” I assure her, but I’m not certain at all if I’m okay. I’m having a rush of … something. An emotion—many of them—or maybe it’s a panic attack, I can’t tell. It’s the same feeling I had when my Waking Dream found me. I’m recalling conversations with my mom. A last moment with my dad in the hospital room. Some horrible thing I said to a teacher once, right in front of the whole class. I felt so smart and proud until she sent me to the principal. I remember a car ride down a very fast highway, and I couldn’t stop insulting the driver, telling him how stupid he looked in the new uniform my parents provided him. I’d known the driver since I was five.
I was a horrible person when I was alive. Claire was a horrible, horrible person.
“Winter?”
It’s Ben now who puts a hand on my shoulder, stirring me from the wretched thoughts that just held me hostage. I fight an urge to smack his hand away.
“I’m fine. Sorry.” I smile, pushing down the rage and the horror and the guilt and the fury that just tried to volcano out of me. “Got lost in a thought, nothing, it’s okay. We’re almost there, I think.”
In half an hour, I’m carrying Megan on my back and something is peeking at us in the distance. What I take to be the city of After’s Hold looks like a strange, pointy mountain. The buildings are tall, some of them jagged, some dull and blunt. There is a lot of dust in the air, quite different from the mist that settles around Trenton. This dust seems the product of factories, almost smoke-like. Its source doesn’t seem to be a fire, strangely. I’m somewhat relieved and twice as perplexed that there appears to be no evidence here of that enormous flame I saw back at Trenton, the one that twisted the distant sky. I suppose it isn’t here … whatever it is … but then where is it?
“We’re here?” Megan clings tighter to my neck.
Ben peers at me too, his eyes reflecting Megan’s same question. “I suppose so,” I answer, “though we still have quite a ways to walk.”
The closer we get to the city, the lighter I feel. Already I’m feeling elated. It’s hardly been a day and I already can’t wait to see John. What seems like ages and miles of walking later—I can’t be sure—it still feels like we have an eternity to walk. I wonder if After’s Hold is just some big dumb mirage and what we’re actually crossing is a huge ginormous desert of despair. Someone could tell me that right now and I’d believe them without question.
Suddenly there’s two people
We leave the camp and press on into the misty wood, which gives away to barren plains and vast spreads of nothing. In about an hour’s time, however, the harsh terrain gives to chunks of concrete and gravel—which I assume used to be part of a street. The sight of them excites me, because I haven’t yet seen remnants of the more modern world yet. Maybe these masses of cement are leftovers of a highway. Megan starts to play the curiosity game, of course, so I soon find myself explaining to her what cars are. Benjamin, being an Undead who hasn’t recalled the Old World yet, jumps in with his own questions, and suddenly I’m a guru of all things modern-world. I describe it all to them: trains, trucks, airplanes …
The pair of them think I’m making it all up, especially the part about machines that could take to the sky and quickly transport tons of people from one end of the planet to the other, until I explain that I’d ridden several. I remember not fondly the act of moving from one end of the country to the other. From a beachfront condo to the snowy hell in the north with bad internet.
The snowy hell in which I was asked to prom. The snowy hell in which my life would eventually end …
After all the reminiscing and explaining, I’m struck for a solid moment by how many things the world’s lost.
“Are you okay?” she asks.
I realize I’d come to a stop, overwhelmed. “Yes,” I assure her, but I’m not certain at all if I’m okay. I’m having a rush of … something. An emotion—many of them—or maybe it’s a panic attack, I can’t tell. It’s the same feeling I had when my Waking Dream found me. I’m recalling conversations with my mom. A last moment with my dad in the hospital room. Some horrible thing I said to a teacher once, right in front of the whole class. I felt so smart and proud until she sent me to the principal. I remember a car ride down a very fast highway, and I couldn’t stop insulting the driver, telling him how stupid he looked in the new uniform my parents provided him. I’d known the driver since I was five.
I was a horrible person when I was alive. Claire was a horrible, horrible person.
“Winter?”
It’s Ben now who puts a hand on my shoulder, stirring me from the wretched thoughts that just held me hostage. I fight an urge to smack his hand away.
“I’m fine. Sorry.” I smile, pushing down the rage and the horror and the guilt and the fury that just tried to volcano out of me. “Got lost in a thought, nothing, it’s okay. We’re almost there, I think.”
In half an hour, I’m carrying Megan on my back and something is peeking at us in the distance. What I take to be the city of After’s Hold looks like a strange, pointy mountain. The buildings are tall, some of them jagged, some dull and blunt. There is a lot of dust in the air, quite different from the mist that settles around Trenton. This dust seems the product of factories, almost smoke-like. Its source doesn’t seem to be a fire, strangely. I’m somewhat relieved and twice as perplexed that there appears to be no evidence here of that enormous flame I saw back at Trenton, the one that twisted the distant sky. I suppose it isn’t here … whatever it is … but then where is it?
“We’re here?” Megan clings tighter to my neck.
Ben peers at me too, his eyes reflecting Megan’s same question. “I suppose so,” I answer, “though we still have quite a ways to walk.”
The closer we get to the city, the lighter I feel. Already I’m feeling elated. It’s hardly been a day and I already can’t wait to see John. What seems like ages and miles of walking later—I can’t be sure—it still feels like we have an eternity to walk. I wonder if After’s Hold is just some big dumb mirage and what we’re actually crossing is a huge ginormous desert of despair. Someone could tell me that right now and I’d believe them without question.
Suddenly there’s two people
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