The rain comes down in sheets, leaking in the windows. I keep my back to the window, staring into the empty dining room. I keep imagining shadows moving about, wait staff bussing tables for ghostly patrons. I keep expecting something to come out of the darkness, something large and menacing with sharp teeth. I keep expecting the hostess to ask me if I’m dine-in or carry-out.
I don’t understand. Was there a flash flood while I slept? An earthquake? Where is everyone? Daveny wouldn’t leave me sleeping during an emergency, would he?
I draw my knees up to my chin, shivering. I heard nothing in the night, no noise, no feeling of being moved. I don’t understand what happened here. How could there be so much destruction, and I’d miss all of it?
The rain pelts the glass, running down my back. It crashes against the walls and the roof, thunder crashing loudly and the lightning vivid and purple. The trees shake like dogs, the wind ruffling their branches, some of them snapping off.
It’s not the worst storm I’ve ever seen, but being without power and not knowing where anyone is…it makes it seem ten times worse. Normally, I’d turn up the TV or take a sleep aid or something to ignore it. I can’t this time. I’ll just have to wait it out.
Water begins to glisten on the floor, creeping forward and pooling under the floor. That isn’t good.
I sit up, feet on the floor in the cold water. Out in the parking lot, the water is uncomfortably high, and it’s going to get even higher if the rain doesn’t stop soon. It probably isn’t a good idea to go out in it, so the only choice I have is to go further in.
I slip into the dining area. A few of the tables have collapsed, but some of them still stand, covered in table cloths that are moth-eaten and full of holes. Some of the tables are topped with cracked glass embedded with flowers, what looks like a different pattern for each table. The roof is open, the edges as spiraling ramp with railing, leading up to what was once a great, glass ceiling, broken and letting the rain in.
Something moves above me, a shrouded figure leaning down one of the walkways, hanging side-saddle off the railing like a monkey.
“Hey!” I call, startled, making it visibly jump and then vanish over the railing.
I quit breathing for a minute or two. There’s another person here, someone alive, someone who might know what’s going on and might have a phone so I can call my parents or Daveny.
“Wait!” I shout, running before I know what I’m doing, toward the ramp and up the spiral. Is that footsteps I hear?
My breath itches in my lungs. I cough and pause to wheeze. Looking above me, I see a fleeting figure dash into one of the rooms, a thin figure wrapped in a leather duster.
I think I’m in a hotel. The room next to me is ajar, with a bed collapsing under a suitcase, clothing still hanging out of it. A rotten teddy bear lays next to the door, with a red biohazard painted onto its belly.
The next room, someone has painted block lettering on the window. Blankets are piled in a heap next to it, the bedframe pressed up against the door.
The next room is open to sky, revealing where a balcony had pulled away from the building, dangling uselessly above the swamp. A tree has taken root here, arching toward the gaping hole.
At least the floor beneath feels stable enough. I keep moving upward, peering into doors and asking if they're injured or have a cellphone or something. I think I’m just saying words, generic nonsense one might ask in any emergency. I might be asking for a strawberry milkshake for all I know.
I reach the level I saw the figure on, and find nobody here. I call out a few times, but nobody answers. I stand on the landing, trembling and all alone in the desiccated corpse of a building. I rub my toes, one foot at a time, against the back of my pants legs.
I look down the spiral. I’ve gone up a fair number of floors, about six or seven. I’ve never seen a building built quite like this, with a spiraling ramp instead of stairs. There’s a shaft along the side opposite the entrance to the restaurant, a glass elevator, with the car stuck some floors above me, mid-floor, as far as I can tell.
The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
Below, I can see water shining against the floor. Thunder rumbles dramatically, following the sizzle of lightning striking something. The wind howls through the busted windows while rain pours through the ceiling.
Nearby is one of those walkways, which looks sturdy enough. It was encased in glass, once, but much of that is gone. A bit of the floor is missing, so I ease around it, testing it for softness. Something flaps in the wind, a banner hanging off the side, its handwritten words too faded for me to read. Rain beats me, hard and cold enough for me to wonder if it’s sleet or hail instead.
I back out of the rain. I shouldn’t go that way, not barefoot and dressed like this. I think I hear footsteps behind me and an almost supernatural sense of eyes. When I turn around, nothing’s there. My stomach growls loudly.
The plans always hinged on the bug-out bag. Anything I’d need was there, food, water, rainslicker, basic camping equipment… All the plans started with “1. Get bug-out bag,” followed by, “2. Use contents of bug-out bag to…”
It doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t make sense that someone else’s belongings should be there and my bug-out bag wouldn’t be. Daveny knew not to move it. I kept a close eye on the expiration date. It never went farther away from its spot than it took to pull it out and restock it, and somehow when I need it for the first time ever, it isn’t here.
Be prepared, that was the motto. We had battery-operated lanterns, growing up, and a hand-crank emergency radio. When I started driving, my dad gave me a can of bear repellant and a deluxe first aid kit. Not pepper spray, bear repellant. I never even asked if such a thing was legal in my state, I just stuck it under my floorboard and went about my business.
I watch the rain in the tunnel. It’s a beautiful sight, in a way, the fury of nature let loose in all its glory. Some of the buildings are in terrible shape, leaning on one another, some thick with moss and vines. The rain blots them out so they’re hard to see, but shadows are still visible, shapes where the water is blocked from falling when the wind blows certain angles.
The harder a storm blows, the less it lasts. Hopefully this’ll all blow over soon, and then I can go back to looking for a live person. In the meantime, I find the driest spot I can find on the ramp and sit down. My feet are filthy and those scratches on my thigh are swollen and still sting, a bit damp from standing in the rain like an idiot.
I try to think of what to do next. It all came down to the bug-out bag, so what do I do without it? I don’t even have my cell phone. Bet my mom is worried sick. And where would Daveny have gone in a time like this?
Am I even in the same town I fell asleep in last night?
I’m cold, wet, and hungry, scrunched up on a dirt floor, shaking arms wrapped around my knees, staring at the faded, patchy carpet. I think it was maroon, once. It smells like an attic. I bet the smell is clinging to me, too.
My eyes close, head leaning against my crossed forearms. Am I shaking because I’m tired, in pain, or scared? Does it matter? My hip throbs where I fell. I hope I haven’t damaged it too badly.
When I open my eyes again, the rain has stopped. It’s perfectly quiet, except for chirping insects. It still has that post-rain smell, but the sky outside the walkway is devoid of clouds, replaced by more stars than I’ve ever seen.
I stand up, cold, stiff, teeth still chattering, limping slightly. Maybe I shouldn’t have run up the ramp after taking a fall like that.
“Stupid,” I murmur under my breath. “Don’t take chances.”
I stretch for a few minutes. Some of my joints pop, but aside from where I fell, nothing seems to hurt. I take a few testing steps to wake myself up, letting my muscles wake up and work out the kinks.
Pain shoots through my stomach. It feels like when I was little, sitting in school a few hours before lunch. Hunger pangs would strike through me so bad I felt as though the insides of my stomach were going numb. When did I eat last? Dinner, last night. Frozen lasagna.
My tongue is dry, too, and sticking to the roof of my mouth. I need to find a fresh water source next, or a water purifier. Maybe I should have stuck my head into the rain and tried to catch a few mouthfuls.
I try to think of where to go next. Going too high in buildings this old and poorly-maintained makes me nervous, but so does going across that bridge. I could always go back down, but from where I can see it looks as though most of the surrounding landscape is swampland, with just a few relatively dry hills or patches. At least if I’m up here, I’m above the water.
I glance down at the red patches on my exposed thigh, between my knee and my hip, and a bit below my knee. I do have exposed wounds. It would be best if I could keep them clean and dry, any idiot would know that.
Since the walkway seems stable enough, I decide to take this route, edging nervously around the hole. From here, I can see a good portion of the city in the moonlight, parts of it mired in a swamp.
Didn't I see that on a documentary? The sewers and plumbing flood and back up, filling the streets. Doesn't it take more than overnight to do it?
I watch the city for some time. I don't live in a city. I live in a small town, a four-story apartment is about as tall as it gets. There's no multi-use skyscrapers, and this side of town has no buildings tall enough to link together this way.
I can't see the moon here, but it must be really bright. I can see a few details, a bit of movement, even without streetlights. A very large bat come close to the walkway, squeaking sharply. Something else, sleek and catlike, with a long, fluffy tail like a fox, dashes past the doorway to the next room, pausing to stare at me with glowing green eyes. Something tall and graceful runs across a nearby rooftop, leaping lemur-like from nearest to farther, and out of sight.
I keep going, stepping into the next building. The halls on either side are almost pitch-black. If I keep going I won't be able to see. I stare into the dark, thinking of spiders and snakes and long-legged monsters. I can’t make myself keep going, not in the dark.
I pace back and forth along the walkway, shaking, staring out into the night. I don’t even know what time it is. I’m going to have to spend the whole night like this.
Stupid bug-out bag. Why couldn’t it have been where I left it?
My foot slides out from underneath me. I land hard on my left knee, my other foot hanging out into the open, dangling dangerously above the swamp. I cling to the walkway, unable to breathe, shaking all over, before I manage to drag myself up and crawl onto the platform and into a corner. I stay still, lying in one spot, staring at the open part of the walkway as if it’s a gaping maw trying to devour me.
I don’t move until I see sunrise.
Would you follow the shadowy figure deeper into the abandoned building?
