Walking the Ruins

Deer

"Hey, get up!"

My thoughts try to grasp the shreds of the dream that formed my world only moments ago. Last images of my room at home evaporate, and with them goes that precious sense of normality.

I blink, blinded by sunlight on a wall. The ground is hard below my sleeping bag, my mouth is parched, and there is a pair of legs standing before me. "Hmm?"

"Wake up, we wanna leave." The voice is not unfriendly, and when I realize who it belongs to, I turn my head, following the legs upwards. Steve smiles at me.

Quickly I change the expression on my face from who-dares to nice-to-see-you. "Good morning!" I attempt to look awake and fresh. My hands search for the zipper of my sleeping bag and fumble to open it. I peel the cocoon off and rise.

"I'm ready," I say, but Steve has already left to join the others outside. Fortunately—I am standing there in my underwear.

I put on my trousers and follow him.

Kevin, Elaine, Rose, and Jenny are sitting in the sunshine, having breakfast. I realize that I am ravenous and go back to my pack. It holds some clammy clothes and a last bag of dried fruits. Back home, I explained to my mother, at length, that I hate these, and resolutely refused to take the bag. Apparently, she then smuggled the thing into my backpack, stubbornly and cunningly. Fortunately, my belly states. Yes, I have to admit that I am grateful for her being so headstrong this time.

Outside, the sky is postcard blue, like yesterday. The sun is still low, barely hovering over the trees. I am still tired. "Hey, folks. I'm suffering from jetlag!"

"We've run out of coffee, I'm sorry," answers Rose.

She gestures me to sit on the tree trunk beside her. I accept the invitation with a smile.

"Did anyone hear that snarling in the night?" I ask.

The others shake their heads.

"It sounded as if two animals were fighting. Creepy. But I saw nothing." I shudder, remembering the angry sounds, rife with violence.

"Zombies do hiss, from time to time." Rose grins and earns herself a major pout from Jenny.

"I've had a look around." Steve interrupts our banter, possibly trying to prevent a catfight. "I haven't found a real path, but there's something like an overgrown road, over there." He points to the other side of the building. "It seems to lead into the right direction. South."

"Before we leave," I say, "I've got a question. Does anyone still have water?" I am thirsty, and the dried fruits did not help.

Steve shakes a nearly full bottle. "I got myself some water from the creek."

"Are you out of your mind?" Jenny says. "You shouldn't drink water from a creek. You have to treat it." She presses her lips together and pulls the corners of her mouth downwards. "You've got to boil it first. Or filter it."

"Do you have a pan? For boiling, I mean? Or a filter?" Steve counters. "The water's fine. Clear and refreshing."

"I believe you!" I get up to fetch my bottle.

The others follow my example. Finally, even Jenny gets some of the water.

The road that Steve has discovered heads south, as expected. Calling it a road may be exaggerated, though. The tarmac can only be seen in a few places. Irregularly spaced stumps of what probably used to be streetlights mark its shoulders. But walking it is definitely easier than yesterday's hike through the wild forest.

After a while, we arrive at a clearing. Traffic signs overgrown with ivy show that this used to be an intersection. The corroded girders and the greenery growing along them look innocent in the sunlight, but they give me the shivers.

Steve points towards the forest's edge on the other side of the clearing. "Look there!"

There are three roe deer. They hold their heads high, attentively looking our way, maybe startled by Steve's voice. Then they turn and flee into the safety of the trees.

Rose rubs her hands together and grins. "Cool! Lunch!"

"Good idea!" answers Kevin. "Get one!"

Rose shakes her head. "Nope. That's your job. You're the man. And the men are the hunters. We women, we gather. So, now, do your hunting!"

Kevin grins back at her. "Maybe next time, woman. Today, I feel more like berries. That's gathering business, so it's your job. Blueberries, please."

I have a strong feeling that their joking is their way of coping with the situation. I wonder how I should cope with it.

We ignore their nonsense and start moving again, keeping the sun fore and left and following the signs pointing towards the city, Geneva. Here, the road must have been more solid, there are fewer trees and shrubs. Some ruins stand at the wayside, most of them barely recognizable as such, only a few being more than one story high.

My shoulders have started to ache under the straps of my heavy pack as we reach a plateau, after what feels like hours of dull walking. We stand at the edge of a slope leading gently down towards the city.

Or towards the remains of the city.

Trees cover the ground of the flat valley before us. Jutting through their canopy, the ruins of some of the remaining taller buildings seek the sky. Most of them seem to have collapsed, though. The left edge of the city borders a grayish blue lake. It drains into a river meandering through the debris. The broken spines of three bridges attempt to cross it. A range of mountains rises beyond the city and the lake, blueish in the misty air.

One of the buildings stands taller than all others. It has a façade of broken window panes, making it look like a shattered crystal tower.

We stand still, in silence.

We arrived in this city by train only two days ago. Then it was a vibrant place, full of life. But that was definitely not two days ago.

"Does anyone see signs of humans?" Steve asks. "I mean signs of living humans. Smoke? Fields? Intact buildings? ... anything?"

His words have the weight of lead. Each of them drives its message home: We are alone. Alone in a place of ghosts and unanswered questions. Wondering if the whole world lies in ruin, I hug myself, feeling cold in the sunshine. A shiver runs down my spine.