The Art of Destruction

Chapter One * Same Mistakes

Monday March, 2029

Ella wondered if she ought to have told someone where she was going. Walking through the side roads hadn't made her reconsider at all, the tranquility of the trees and open fields of the rural part of West Virginia giving her more a sense of peace than anxiety. However, now, as she walked through the desolate city streets, she felt paranoid. Her hair stood on end- despite her heavy, white winter jacket but not because of the cold or the heavy snowfall. 

It was the constant feeling she was being watched.

She held the automatic sub-machine gun she carried closer to her heaving chest. Her heart pounded heavily as the feeling heightened. Ella knew she was being ridiculous, her brain told her that 'everything was fine' but her heart refused to listen- like an insolent child. 

The wind howled through the tall city buildings that lined both sides of the four-lane streets, creating a turbulent wind tunnel. She tugged on her olive beanie to keep it from blowing off of her head. Ella looked to both to the right and left as she crossed through an intersection- blocked by a dozen cars in the center- part of a large collision that was never cleaned up. She didn't dare look into the windows in fear that the wreckage was not the only thing that wasn't cleansed. 

After she walked through the intersection, the condition of the city seemed to worsen. Even though the silvery powder of freshly fallen snow remained beautiful, it was tainted by the appearance of the city beneath it.

Towers and shops were toppled or wrecked, their remains spilled out like guts into the streets. What buildings remained stretched on with war propaganda blemishing their fronts, spray painted on the walls. Once beautiful, envied cars were nothing more than skeletal remains of their former selves, abandoned and pillaged for their elements. 

Her nerves calmed but her feet ached from her journey. She could hardly wait to get to her destination, a popular way-station for travelers but also a supply depot for her organization. Thinking about the safe haven and warm hearth that awaited there, she wanted to run the rest of the way but knew for her own safety, it wasn't a good idea. 

Still, Ella walked faster. She turned the corner down an alley, a short cut, but stopped suddenly. Her feet skidded on the fresh snow as she tried to backpedal. 

A body lay in the center of the narrow side street. 

The anxiety she had managed to shove away from her mind came back like a wave crashing over her. Her shoulders went rigid and her back stiffened. She could hear her heartbeat in her ears as she flicked the safety and took another step closer to the body.

Every fiber in her body told her not to step closer but the body was dressed in civilian clothes. If he was still alive and she walked away- she would never be able to forget about it, she'd regret it the rest of her life. How ever long that may be. 

There was hardly a blanket of snow over the figure- he hadn't been there long. He was lying on his side in the fetal position, his head tucked down so his nose touched the cement of the street. 

She pushed herself forward and came to the body and knelt beside it. Gingerly, she pulled on the exposed, right arm in order to drop him onto his back. When he fell to his back, his head lolled to face her. She gasped and immediately stood, her gun aimed in front of her in caution. 

The man's face was daunting. His cheeks gaunt and eyes cloudy. There was a small amount of blood on the corner of his mouth. None of those features were what scared her. It was his extremely swollen right eye. A sign of copying- to create a surrogate; another being that copied the appearance of their victim, replacing them. The replacement had happened recently.