City of the Damned

Chapter 2 | Thunder

DROPS of rain fell down on her face. Thunder echoed between the mountains outside the city walls, a storm hiding behind the high buildings. It rumbled, mirroring war drums, as if to show more was to come, and the fight wasn't over yet. Verena remembered how she once stood on the tallest wall, watching the thunder in the mountain valley. Times like this made her miss those small moments.

Wouldn't it be a sight if the storm broke away from the mountain's grasp and washed away the blood and death in the streets? The lighting could strike the criminals hungry for power. The city could be clean again. But they were all just dreams.

The cuffs around her arms were more pleasant compared to the chain which had tethered her ankle to the bunker. The daylight hurt her eyes, making her almost miss the darkness. A soldier pushed her forward towards the cars. Cars! It's been a while since she had seen them. Only some officials, like her father, had them — to travel more easily. It was strange that this form of transportation used to be normal. She learned in school about how everyone could buy and drive vehicles. Perhaps that's how the problems started. Why the earth needed to heal, whether or not people were willing.

Sometimes, Verena wondered if it was worth it. Euronea locked citizens into giant stone cities — that took days to cross — unable to walk freely through a forest or climb a mountain. People forgot what it was like before the change. The desperation and destruction ... not entirely unlike what they were facing now. Generations would stop sharing the stories of times gone past with the next ones. Her mom had been one of the few who kept telling about a world outside the walls.

She glanced up to where smoke from fire rose above the buildings. The rebels didn't have totally deranged views, but even so, this wasn't the way to make a point.

"Stand still," a soldier ordered, and she listened until the black fabric appeared in his hand. She struggled against the soldiers, telling them to stop, but her vision turned dark as the hood covered her head.

The drive was short, luckily, because her stomach twisted with every bump. A few blocks separated the police station and the Keep, and cars could only take the broad roads. Pulled from the car, a musty smell reached through the piece of cloth over her head. The ground under her feet changed from bricks to tiles to stone, and she realised where they were going. The dungeons under the Keep.

The Keep looked like a historic castle from stories. In reality, it was built to mirror the antique constructions the old land used to have, to remain faithful to the past. The first official Berulex building meant for government business. Her grandfather was the one who decided the Keep shouldn't be occupied when the city was fighting amongst each other.

The soldier pulled off the hood, and Verena squinted as she looked around the small room with a bed and a bucket, nothing more.

A prison for a prisoner.

"Get comfortable. You'll be here a while," the soldier said as he closed the door.

"Wait!" Verena dashed forward. "Can I use the bathroom?"

No answer.

Verena cursed as she eyed the bucket in the corner. It wouldn't be the first time.

Even though she was in a new space, time moved as slowly as it did in the bunker. No windows meant no sun going up and down — no way to keep track of the passing hours or how many days she'd be stuck there. And no other people meant no one else to distract her from her thoughts clashing against her skull like waves against cliffs.

Her feet tapped on the grey stone floor as she plucked her skin. Blood welled up around her nails. Night would've settled in by now, yet she was too awake to even think about going to sleep. Sure, she made peace with dying young, but she didn't relish the unknown. The waiting.