After the Blur

August 9, 2017

My fingers jittered and pounded against the the leathery surface of the steering wheel. My over racked nerves were ringing in my ears. The blood in my veins had long since turned into a busy Manhattan highway. I can feel every crack in the road as we drove down it. The highway, a crime scene with evidence still showing the situation that surrounds us and enveloped the world; this was just a chapter. It had long since been littered with with corpses and ignited vehicles.  The darkness fed off of the light in front of our headlights and the dimmer rays given off by the fires.

I opened a window, the stench from the accumulated smoke and decay charged for the little fresh air inside of the sedan. I fished my pocket for an item of relief, an item infamous for racking a death - toll before The Fall. Something so sinister had become so precious. I pulled out a little white box, no more than three inches high. With my finger, I guided the flap up to reveal six white sticks, I pulled one out of the box and put it in my mouth. It hurt. My jaw had been clinched shut for far past an hour. To put something delicate and dangerous past my lips, was a trick that seemed impossible to complete. I threw the pack behind me and grabbed the lighter out of my shirt pocket. The cold metal felt foreign in my hot, clammy hand. The click from the metal slot opening was a deafening echo. The flint sparked and the flame rose. Paused, with the lighter in my hand and the faces of those I couldn't save screamed as they burned into my subconscious mind. I brought the flame to my poison and ignited the process. It was remarkably difficult, it felt as if I couldn't carry my own arm. I shook. Finally, it lit. I took my first inhale and almost heaved, I blew smoke to cover the sob.

My passenger placed his hand on my shoulder, "It's alright man. You don't have to beat yourself up,". I stayed silent. My passenger had been well-known for his incompetence and immoral thoughts and actions. Whatever he could say, would just make the situation worse. He knew it too, but it didn't stop him. "Look! It wasn't your fault, the kid didn't know what he was doing. You can't expect much from a rook," his words were acid. I kept calm for the sake of sanity.

Just then, a new scent, burning wood and phosphorus. The match behind me shed a brief light and followed the haunting scent of tobacco. I took a drag and drifted off towards the road, a cloud of smoke replicated my routine. The dissipating smoke briefly fogged my vision and allowed my imagination to sore for split seconds at a time. Scenes of their torment flashed in my head, their blood curdling screams bounced around in the deepest recesses of my mind. I searched my body for the feeling of their caked blood and wondered whose it was. I took a drag.

An LED distraction rang in the cup holder in between the driver and passenger seats. The Legend of Zelda theme song blared slightly incoherently, along with the excruciating sound of continuous vibration. I hesitated to answer the phone, for fear of what may be on the other line. Maybe the voices of the fallen ones that I had failed to protect, or a voice telling me that I should have been the one that was left bleeding and biting the darkness, "You failed!" The voice would scream over and over until raw and bloody. I swallowed hard and picked up the phone. My only sanctuary from the words of the passenger.

"Mayfield here," I say with an obvious unwanting to converse. "Blake!" screamed a voice that was never meant to scream. Nightmares were audible in the background. Static and skipping were teasing the line. "The wall-...and they-...can't find Shan-...every-...AHHHHHHH-...•••••••"

The final voice and scream indicated something was very wrong. "Hello?! Hello??!...FUCK!!" I stomped on the gas and the car roared to life. "Check your weapons and ammo, something's wrong at the shelter!" I yelled to the passengers in the car. An array of metallic clanks and clicks surround me.

A mile up the road, stood a bridge overlapping the highway ahead of us. Something wasn't right, the guard rails were punched out and there were isolated torches. Someone was up there. My passenger saw it as well as I did and we watched waiting for a warning. Nothing. We were getting closer. Still nothing. We drove closer and closer. To avoid any incident, I forced the throttle and threw it in another gear. We shot off, passing under the bridge that stood there- and nothing. I felt relieved, it was what it had proven itself to be; nothing.

Then I saw it. The bridge after that had the same setup with fewer torches. Paled in comparison to the one before. There stood people watching us drive closer and closer to the bridge in a speed that was unintended. Just as we seen them, they dropped the vehicles behind them. Our speed was too much, there was nothing I can do, our fate had been sealed.

We made impact and everything went black.