The Sickness

Chapter 4.

Cy ran between buildings, climbing down the ladders wedged into empty window frames of buildings when she could, other times balancing on wobbly rope ladders. She edged forward in an irregular stair-step pattern. The end game was to move as vertically as possible, so that the shadows of the buildings made by the early afternoon sun would obscure her. Still, she felt like she was spending the majority of her time sprinting. Her hands were chafed raw from steadying herself against the rope supports to counterbalance the violent swinging of the bridges. Her feet made a hard smacking sound on the wood planks.

The clamor of confused voices as she pushed past people, and the ringing of alarm bells was her escape music. Her lungs burned, and her heart was smashing against the insides of her ribs. Nevertheless, the image of her son gave fuel to her running.

She could remember the smell of his hair, the feel of his damp curls in her hands when it was bath-time. His first word had been "Juice". She remembered the feeling of his gummy fists curled around her fingers, when he clutched her, trying to walk for the first time.

She could not remember the pain of childbirth, but she remembered Erik stroking her hair as she pushed. She remembered the elation when they finally cut him out of her. She'd had to squint through her exhaustion and the tangle of wires to see her son's face for the first time. She remembered the feeling of him laid on her chest. He was a damp, warm bundle, his soft cheek pressed to her bare skin as he laid there, tiny and squalling at the cold world.

She remembered how she'd heard the whoosh of his heart on the sonogram for the first time, and tears had pricked her eyes. That had been the moment when she'd known she would be okay, no matter whatever financial struggles, no matter if they were too young. So long as that tinny whoosh coming from the sonogram kept on it's strong, determined, chug to life.

Cy stopped. The ringing of the bells had faded. Still several stories up, Cy looked out at the rope bridges connecting the buildings. Several generations of abandoned bridges now sagged from dilapidated supports, to the point where some hung far too close directly above another. The wind around her sighed, an even emptier sound as it traveled through empty buildings. She'd reached an abandoned Quadrant of the city.

It would be impossible to run now. She trusted in the silence, in the moan of the lonely wind echoing against unpeopled skyscrapers. She crawled, hoping the bridges would support her, keeping her head low so it wouldn't knock against the aged bridges hanging so close above her.

She never felt more relief than when she hopped down from the last, lowest bridge, and her feet sunk slightly into the soft, mossy ground. She was surrounded by grass taller than her, and in this portion, saplings had long since punched through the cracked, moss-spotted concrete. A meager supply of leaves grew from the stick-branches of these young trees, through which the sun dappled her in green. She felt smaller than she ever had, jogging amidst this conglomeration of nature-reclaimed city, and the monstrous buildings rising above her. Cy shivered as she ran, rarely feeling a warm ray of sunlight with the fearful shadows cast in the late-afternoon light. As the buildings shrunk, it seemed like nature rose. Cedar trees towered above her, shading old, shattered store-fronts and rusted, skeleton cars.

After hours of running from the center of the city, it was now close to night. Cy held her hands to her arms, attempting to erase the goose-bumps rising from her cold flesh. She'd found herself in an old suburb Northwest of Neapolis. The trees that grew up to the heavens hid the distant buildings of the city from her, and vice versa. She felt safe enough hunkering down in one of these old homes. They had sunk into the forest over many years, damp and rotted, but shelters nonetheless. It would not be a pleasant night's sleep.

The world turned inside out. Or atleast, that's how it felt. Indescribable pain blossomed at her temple. It curled like a serpent behind her eye, down her nose and into her nostrils. She smelled electricity and blood. Her eyes spasmed. Cy was vaguely aware of being on the ground, her ligaments and tendons struggling to bear the brunt of the impact her hands had taken as she fell. She couldn't taste or smell anything besides fire.