Shattered Roads

by ALICE HENDERSON

  She raced up the stairs, found the knob, and shoved open the door, slamming the thick wood behind her. Her groping hands found an old lock. She engaged it. Then she slumped down, pressing her back against the door, catching her breath. Hopefully, the things hadn’t seen where she went. There was a chance they hadn’t. Unless they could move the grate, they’d have to backtrack and leave the warehouse through some other hole.

  She sat, waiting, listening. She didn’t dare move or even sling her bag off her shoulder. She clutched it, ears perked for any hint of noise outside. She didn’t hear anything except the rain pounding on the roof. Miraculously, her spot on the floor was dry. Part of one of the upper walls was missing, but the ceiling was largely preserved.

  For hours she sat burning with fatigue, tensely clutching her bag.

  She fought the desire to sleep, but suddenly found herself jerking awake. She checked her PRD. Four hours had passed. Relief flooded through her. They hadn’t found her.

  She rummaged through her bag and took a long drink from the rainwater she’d filtered earlier that day. It was still dark out, and she didn’t want to leave this place at least until light, when she’d be able to see if those things were still out there.

  Reaching up, she double-checked the lock on the door. It was still engaged. Then she slumped against the wood and closed her eyes.

  * * * *

  She woke to warmth on her face. An unbearably bright light shone down on her. Heat spread over her entire body. Through the empty place in the upper wall the sun gleamed. It was the first time she’d seen it in weeks. She got to her feet, finding her clothes dried. The floor around her steamed as the sun hit it. Normally she preferred stormy days, when the gray clouds bubbled above New Atlantic’s shield. But she was very grateful to see the sun. She laid out her PRD and headlamp to recharge in a pool of light. In a few minutes they beeped, and she put them back in her bag. Willoughby still hadn’t sent her a message with a lead on the Rovers.

  She stepped outside, bombarded by a wave of humidity. After checking up and down the ruined street, she didn’t see any sign of movement. She staggered outside, struggling to breathe the heavy air. Yesterday it had been chilly, but today was twice the temperature. She checked the direction of the weather shelter on her PRD and headed that way. She took off her jacket, folded it up, and placed it inside the bag. The sun burned her scalp as she walked. She didn’t have a hat, and she didn’t want to put the parka back on in this miserable heat.

  She walked in the shadow of crumbled buildings whenever she got the chance, trudging along the cracked sidewalk as the pavement shimmered. Tar ran in little rivulets down the asphalt, sticking to her boots. Having to squint made her head ache. As the day wore on, the oppressive air began to smell. It reeked of death and decay, of rotten things decomposing in the sewers below. She gagged. Stopping in the shade of an old stone building, she took a long drink out of her water bottle. She was going through it too fast today. If it didn’t rain again soon, she’d have to find another source of water, but she hadn’t seen so much as a water storage facility since she left. She realized that she had no idea what an antique water storage facility would even look like. She could have walked past dozens and not known it.

  She trudged on, feet swelling and burning in her boots. Her shirt clung to her as rivers of sweat trickled down her back.

  As the afternoon wore on, the inevitable happened: She ran out of water.

  She stopped, sitting down under the protection of another stone façade. This had the letters B-A-N-K carved in stone above the door. She could feel the building’s warmth radiating upward.

  In the west, more clouds accumulated. One swelled higher than the others, a puffy white tower. The wind met her, carrying with it now familiar scent of rain.

  She picked herself up and continued toward the shelter, keeping an eye on the weather.

  As she walked, more clouds clustered on the horizon, forming dark gray layers that crept toward her. Flashes of lightning arced beneath the clouds. The bloated column grew into a massive black wedge. The wind picked up, hitting her hard. Still the sun hammered down overhead. The storm hadn’t reached her yet. All the same, the weather shelter lay in its dominion.

  She kept walking, the gales shifting her back and forth. Dirt and sand kept hitting her in the face. She bent forward, trying to protect her eyes. Then she heard a creak, and the grinding of stone. She turned to see a nearby building lose a section of bricks, which came crashing down. The next gust knocked her right into the rubble pile. She looked up. Another round of bricks leaned and creaked, ready to plunge down on top of her. She leaped up and bolted toward safety.

  She had to find shelter. The clouds moved in, rolling above her in a swirling mass, blotting out the sun. A bolt of lightning jagged out from their gray underbelly. She glanced around for a place where she could ride out the storm.

  She ran down the street, stopping occasionally to make sure she was headed in the right direction. Then the rain let loose in another roar. Gargantuan drops pelted down, coalescing in streams along the street. The wind tore at her clothes, buffeting her back and sides. It threw her off balance, and she went down hard onto the rain-soaked asphalt. She staggered to her feet and looked down to see that her pants were soaked.

  Nearby she saw a sewer opening that wasn’t clogged with debris. She reached it just as ice started careening down from the sky. The opening wasn’t wide, but she could fit. Sliding her feet in first, she squirmed through the hole, then dropped down a few feet, splashing into a shallow pool. She regained her balance, then pulled out her headlamp and switched it on. The beam played off a long, curved tunnel.

  Ankle-deep water gushed by her in torrents as a noxious, rotting smell filled the air. She pulled her collar over her face to mask the stench, but it did little. Breathing through her mouth, she cast the headlamp’s beam up and down the tunnel, wondering if she should try to move underground or wait out the ice chunks.

  She’d seen a few buildings a couple blocks down that looked more intact than the others near her, and decided she’d move toward them underground. Already the water in the tunnel had risen to her knees. She didn’t want to be trapped down here if the tunnel filled.

  She sloshed toward the buildings, stepping over rusted pieces of metal and clumps of thick, gray slime whose origins she didn’t even want to ponder. About twenty feet in, she heard something splashing behind her. She spun, aiming her beam down the tunnel. She thought it might be ice coming in through the opening, so she stared hard in that direction. Then she saw a black shape, like the ones from last night. It drew in a sharp, hungry breath and loped toward her.

  She ran.

  Chapter12

  H124 leaped through the water, banging her shin on a piece of submerged concrete. Behind her the splashing grew more insistent, and she knew she didn’t have much time. She had to reach the next opening. She tore on, now hearing more than one thing in pursuit. Daylight streamed in through another opening up ahead. She ran clumsily, vaulting over obstacles as they came, but so much debris choked the tunnel that she eventually tripped and pitched forward. Her hands caught the rough concrete walls of the tunnel, and she righted herself. She could hear the things hissing behind her, exhaling, now joined by a kind of ragged sigh. Ten more feet to the light. She plunged forward. She could see the opening, a circle in the tunnel’s ceiling, waiting for her atop a short steel ladder.

  She grabbed the rungs and swung herself up.

  The things hissed behind her.

  As her head and shoulders burst upward, a chunk of ice collided with her arm. She let out a cry. She climbed all the way out of the dark hole and raced for the buildings. Another ice ball screamed down beside her, shattering on the asphalt. A second connected with her shoulder, and she cried out. She glanced back, spotting something dark sticking above the sewer opening. She continued to race onward, but when she looked back, w
hatever it was had retreated back into the tunnel.

  She reached one of the more undamaged buildings, noticing that it didn’t have a door. She ran on to the next one, relieved to see it still had one. She wrenched it open, slammed it shut behind her, and drove a rusted bolt home. She could hear the ice pummeling the ceiling. She slumped down against the wall, wanting to laugh out loud. She caught her breath, wiping the rain out of her eyes. She pulled out her PRD, seeing how much ground she’d covered. She had to cover more distance today. If the Rovers had built the weather shelter system, maybe she could find some clue to their whereabouts when she reached it. Her body ached, but she had to keep going, at least until night, when those things might be out again. During the day it seemed like they kept to the dark. She hadn’t seen any topside while she’d been walking.

  She stared down at the gray, featureless map of the PRD. Other than the blinking arrow, Willoughby’s PRD had no base map outside the city. Hers hadn’t had that either, and she wasn’t surprised. People had no reason to leave the city. More than a few times when she was younger, she’d pulled out her PRD and scrolled her city’s map beyond the edge of the atmospheric shield. Hers simply stopped and snapped back when she reached the perimeter.

  Willoughby’s allowed her to scroll beyond New Atlantic, but the map showed no roads, no buildings, no markings at all.

  She waited, listening to the ice pound on the roof. When it stopped, she unlocked the door and peered out. Nothing stirred in the opening to the tunnels. Light filtered down from the cloudy sky, and she set out again.

  The humidity had lessened after the storm, so she walked on, feeling a little more comfortable. In the distance, something gleamed in the light, a long ribbon cutting through the terrain.

  At last she reached it and found a massive body of water coursing by. Kneeling at the bank, she refilled her bottle and took a long drink of the filtered water. Then she topped off her bottle again. Standing up, she gazed across to the other side. She had no idea how to get across.

  Then she spotted a bridge, mostly submerged, with just a few ornate towers visible above the muddy banks of the flooded river. She could cross it, but it was going to be tough. Along the swollen banks, the tops of houses peeked out, their roofs covered in slime, algae, and muddy branches twisted in leaves. She wondered how long they’d been like this. On the other side of the river, a road ran through the town, cracked and broken.

  Cinching her bag tight around her torso, she waded out into the cold water. Her boots found the surface of the bridge, waist deep underwater. The surface was slippery, and she almost fell back into the raging current.

  Windmilling her arms, she managed to stay upright. Inching out, she kept her body low and slid her feet along the slimy bridge. She made it to the first tower and grabbed hold of it. She steadied herself, looking back the way she’d come. So far, so good. She then moved past the tower, trying to hold on to the submerged side rail of the bridge. But it was too slick with algae. She soldiered on, the current more powerful toward the center of the river. As water rushed over her boots, she knew she wouldn’t be able to stay afoot at its midpoint.

  She crept along a few inches at a time, sliding one boot ahead, then shifting her weight and sliding the other. She reached the next tower, grabbing it eagerly. She shifted to the middle section of the bridge. Here the water gushed in a swirling mass. She didn’t think she could remain standing. But she had to try. She pushed onward, concentrating. She hadn’t gone more than a few feet when a rush of water hit her, sweeping her feet out. She came crashing down into the waves, arms flailing until they found the railing.

  Her fingers gripped the slimy surface, and she laced her arms around the metal. Water shot up under her chin, flooding her nose and mouth. She spat it out, gasping frantically. The faster she crossed, the better. Arm over arm, she shinnied herself along the bridge, the cold water sucking the life right out of her muscles. Finally she reached the next tower and pulled herself out of the water, trying to catch her breath. She coughed up mud.

  She then moved past the tower, starting out on her feet once again. The current was less powerful here, so she padded along. Her teeth chattered, and her legs trembled. She soon reached the last tower and took hold. She clung to it, wondering if she’d ever be warm again. Coughing, she left the tower and made her way to the muddy bank on the opposite side. When her feet hit dry ground, she turned around, surveying the length of her feat. A sense of pride welled up. She’d made it.

  She turned around, staring out at the cracked and sun-bleached road. Glad for the waterproof bag, she pulled out her PRD and checked the compass reading. The weather shelter wasn’t far now. She couldn’t believe it. Only five miles away, and the land looked relatively flat. She’d be there in no time.

  She imagined dry clothes and a solid roof over her head. Though she’d only been gone from her pod for a short time, the memory of its warm, dry confines already felt distant, as if they belonged to another life.

  She realized they did.

  As she stepped onto the road, the rain returned, pounding on the hood of her parka. It had been raining so constantly that the thrumming of droplets on her head was starting to get to her. The drumming sounded from inside her skull, with every fiber of her being rattling to each drop. Water soaked everything she had, except her shirt under the warm jacket and her meager belongings in the protective bag.

  She double-checked the direction and headed off, feeling more robust now that the end was in sight.

  She stepped over broken chunks of asphalt, trotted past rows of abandoned, decrepit houses, and threaded her way through derelict vehicles that littered the road like rusted carcasses of a bygone age.

  She passed through endless streets of collapsed buildings as thunder boomed overhead. From the time she’d left the city, the edifices stretched on and on. She could see why they’d been abandoned; no way could someone build an atmospheric dome this big. And the weather was out of control. It destroyed everything. Wind shattered windows and swayed buildings; water eroded foundations. Heat cracked and heaved the street.

  All of a sudden, in a nondescript spot on the boundless cement, her PRD started beeping. She stood before a monstrous building of white stone with pillars on either side of the door. She knew she was close.

  The arrow pulsed softly. This was the place. Like every other building she’d come across, this one stood in ruins. An entire wall had fallen to rubble, and all the windows had shattered long ago. Some letters chiseled into the stone above the gaping door read Municipal Library. She recognized the letters, but not the words. She mounted the stone steps, staring upward. She noticed smaller letters had been notched above the big ones. The entire sign read, The Mall at the Municipal Library. She walked through the main entrance, assaulted by the reek of mildew. Something else hung in the air too, the sickly sweet, cloying smell of death, an all too familiar scent.

  Rain pattered on the floor through a dozen holes in the place’s roof. She didn’t see how this could be a weather shelter.

  Dozens of doorways lined the main corridor. Strange rusted metal racks lay on their sides, scattered in and out of the doorways, lying in puddles of rainwater. Glass glittered all over the floor. In some places, the ceiling had caved in, and a huge chunk of a southern-facing wall opened to a view of the ruined city beyond.

  She walked cautiously down the hallway, peering into the doorways. Some glass still hung in walls framed by rusted metal. She realized these walls had once been all glass. As she moved forward, she jumped. Lying on the floor in the next room was a human on his back, one hand reaching toward the ceiling.

  She crept closer. Rowan had said she probably wouldn’t run into another person. But if weather shelters were as valuable as he’d made out, then people probably came from all over to find one, just as she had done.

  She pressed close to one of the few sections of solid wall that was still standing an
d peered around the corner. The man wasn’t moving. It was so dark in the room that she saw only his silhouette.

  He was the first person she’d seen since Rowan, and she had no idea when she’d see someone again. Her fight-or-flight urge crept through every limb. She stepped closer, now almost in the same room as the man. Still he didn’t move. She allowed her eyes to grow accustomed to the dark. She eased herself closer, ready to bolt, but the man did not move. Finally she switched on her headlamp.

  Shadows skittered up the walls. The beam fell on the man. He was fake, she realized. He was completely white, wearing the tattered remnants of some kind of cloth. Shining the beam around the rest of the room, she saw similar shapes, men and women, scattered on the floor.

  What was this place? Why all these life-size models?

  She left the dark, sodden room and returned to the hallway. Aiming her light above the doors, she read different signs. She recognized the letters as before, but didn’t know what many of the words meant.

  Mark Twain’s Tweens, read one. She scanned down the hallway and read: Dumas Electronics, Victor Hugo’s Fashion Revolution, Sherlock’s Better Holmes and Gardens, and Oliver Pretzel Twists.

  Then her beam fell on a different kind of sign, a blue one at the end of the hall. It revealed a strange funnel next to the image of a running man. An arrow pointed to the right. She followed it, her boots splashing in the standing puddles in the corridor. At the end of the hallway, some stairs led down, and another sign with the same design pointed down the stairs. She rounded the landing, continued down another set of stairs, and came to a thick steel door. A keypad stood to the right of it. The technology was somewhat recent and looked out of place in this strange, ancient place.

  She entered the code Rowan had given her, and the door slid open, issuing forth fresh, sweet air. Inside, shelves upon shelves of MREs, jars, cans, and other objects lined the walls.