Memoirs
From the End of the World
Entry
#8
Dear Romero,
I don’t recommend spending the night clinging to the underside
of a bridge.
It seemed like I was down there for hours while the patrol
searched the area for remains. Even
after the flashlight beams disappeared and I couldn’t hear them chatting, I was
still afraid to move. It wasn’t until I
saw hints of sunlight on the horizon that I realized I waited too long. If they’d placed a watch on the bridge, I
would’ve stood a better chance with the darkness on my side.
The water below looked just as dangerous in the early
morning light. My arms hurt from the
aerial gymnastics that got me to safety in the first place. My palms were split from where the metal dug into
my skin, so I couldn’t open them all the way without it feeling like I was
being cut all over again.
Let’s face it. My
plan was insane. Getting there was
impossible enough, but I had no idea how in the world I was going to get back
to solid ground. When I thought about
climbing back the way I came, I shivered.
The movies I watched with my brother were misleading. This was the point where the hero, who’d
already been wounded in a way that should have been instantly fatal, miraculously
musters the strength to swing their way back onto the bridge and karate chops
twenty armed assailants.
Even in peak physical condition, I didn’t have the raw
strength to pull that off. I guess that
was the advantage of being a Hollywood actor with special effects teams to back
you up. You could get paid to look like
a god. There in the real world, clinging
to that beam like a scared animal, I found myself hating those false images. I resented those actors even more when I
remembered they lived far beyond the borders of the reservation and were still
making millions to look amazing. I could
have used a little of that magic.
Okay, Romero, you know I made it back safely. How else would I be writing in you, after
all? Let me tell you, it was a close
thing. Looking around, I was encouraged
that the understructure was as extensive as it was. In theory, I should have been able to
carefully crawl my way along the slanting beams until they came out above dry
land. I’d have to drop from there.
The moment I started to crawl, I realized just how stiff my
muscles were. The cold wasn’t helping,
though the numbness that settled in overnight courtesy of the chilling winds at
least dulled the pain. In spite of the
damage done to my hands, which caused them to curl uselessly in on themselves,
I shimmied along. I shimmied up, made a
dicey transition around a vertical support before shimmying down along another
beam. The downward slope got my heart
racing as I tried not to slide too fast along the damp metal surface. Then I did it all over again.
When I finally looked down and saw dirt instead of a curtain
of water, I sighed. The drop from that
point was only about ten feet. I took
one last look around to make sure there weren’t any patrols closing in on
me. Then, sucking in my breath as if it
could be my last, I let go.
The ground was even harder than it looked. When I landed on my back, the world exploded
with stars. Though the fall knocked the
wind out of me, I rolled to my knees and forced myself to move. It was far too dangerous to wait around.
Rule #12: If a patrol
follows you, never assume you lost them.
They know how to hide just as well as you do.
Yes, I’m making more rules now, and I know what you want to
say, Romero. When I helped Alyx and
Ollie, I broke most of my rules. Why
should I bother to write any more of them?
Well, rules are supposed to be flexible.
That doesn’t make them invaluable.
Rule #13: Inflexibility can
get people killed.
I limped along, avoiding streets as I made my way toward the
rendezvous point. There was no hope of
getting warm, though the trees and houses mercifully blocked the wind as I
went. My stomach growled, and my mouth
was horribly dry. That’s kind of funny
considering how damp my clothes were.
I didn’t see a single soul on my route. When I finally saw the drugstore, it struck
me how much had changed. It had been
months since I last stood on that particular street. There were a couple reasons for that. It violated my rule about sticking too close
to the familiar. My grandma lived less
than a block away, and I used to visit her all the time. Then, when the overlords instituted their
cleansing programs to get rid of older people with medical issues, she
disappeared. We were never told whether
those people were shipped out or killed.
Grandma Luci was one of them, and it hurts that I’ll never
know what happened to her. That’s the
real reason why I never come back.
The front windows of the drugstore were broken out. Shards of glass crunched under my feet as I
approached. I didn’t see any signs of
life at all inside.
Then Alyx crashed into me from the side. I jumped, almost sure something had to be
wrong. When I realized that his arms
were around me, squeezing me in a hug of relief, I relaxed. The noon sun had started to dry me out, but I
still wasn’t warm. Yet an unexpected
sensation warmed me from the inside, and I hugged him back. It was the strangest thing. I barely know him, yet I was so happy to see
him there, and alive, that I almost forgot about everything else.
What a cliff hanger. I'm a little breathless after all that.
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