Black Sun by Clifford Beck - HTML preview

Chapter 17

The walk was long and difficult, but several hours and a few painful blisters later, both Abigail and Ryan were relieved to see the distant skyline of Albany. They had stopped more than a few times for water as well as an exchange of warmth, with Abigail sitting on Ryan’s lap, her legs wrapped around his hips, their mouths embracing. If there had been any doubts of the strength of their bond, they had died on the way to Albany. Now, the isolation of the suburbs would be replaced by the dangers of a city that had, even before the spark of the world had been extinguished, offered mercy to no one. But in the light of present day, it looked cold, dead, and threatening, staring at the traveling couple as if with eyes of warning. Seeing its concrete shadow looming on the horizon, Ryan turned to Abigail with a concerning question. “Are you sure you want to be here?”

Now, Abigail was caught in a moment of doubt. At first, all she wanted was to get home, to something familiar and, of course, to reclaim what she considered to be an ounce of unlawful serenity. Now, considering the trials they had already faced, she wished she had stayed in Troy—that she had listened to Ryan. They could have left the inner city and taken shelter somewhere on its fringes. Yet, here they stood, taking in the dismal Albany skyline, knowing that in spite of its untimely demise, it still held the worst of human evil, survivors reduced to scurrying and scrounging for whatever they could find. Then, there would be those who would take to recreational murder, killing for the pleasure of killing, without the hammer of authority to enforce consequences. Complete, unfettered freedom was at hand, but with the freedom to act came the freedom to die at the hands of the human animals that now roamed the concrete cityscape that was once Albany. Abigail realized her error of judgment, but going back was impossible and once again, the bile of fear crept up into her mind as they stood looking at what had become a hostile nation in its own right. She had become lost in the menacing stare of what was now a city that lay in abandoned, save for the ghosts of the dead scattered along the sidewalks, slumped over in darkened apartments and hallways; all with wounds similar to what they had already witnessed. Ryan repeated his question as he touched her on the arm. Her mind, having been elsewhere, caused her to let out a gasp, nearly jumping out of her skin. “Jesus, fuck!” she said. “What? Oh, yeah, right. I guess we’re here, huh?”

Ryan, suddenly overtaken with concern, knew what Abigail feared most and, turning to her, put a gentle hand on the side of her face. “Hey,” he began. “We’re going to get through this, okay? One step at a time. Eventually, we’ll move on, but we need to regroup and get some rest.”

Abigail's eyes teared up as she turned and threw her arms around him.

“Please don’t leave me,” she said. “Please.” Holding her tightly, Ryan gently rubbed a hand on her back while feeling her body begin to relax. He knew that should she end up alone, the world would make quick work of her, destroying her in every conceivable manner, that without him, she would be reduced to crawling the streets and alleys like a starving rat. With this reality branded on his brain, Ryan, once again, vowed to himself to never leave her. He couldn’t, not with the feelings he had for her, not with the deep bond they now shared.

With the moment now passed, Ryan and Abigail took each other's hands and walked abreast of the highway. But, they were not alone. The asphalt lay scattered with cars that had run off the side, their hoods blown open and batteries strewn as shards over the pavement. Abigail took Ryan firmly by the arm. Recounting what she had seen in Troy, she recoiled at the sight she would be forced to witness.

“Ryan,” she began. “I don’t want to see this. Please, is there any other way?”

Her eyes teared up again as she anticipated the faces of those who died, never having known what it was that had so suddenly taken their lives. They may have had a brief moment of fascination as they glanced up at the ethereal light, hanging high in the sky, a fatal precursor of a painful demise. But moments later, the light of consciousness would quickly be blown out, never again to be brought aflame.

Ryan felt the heaviness of death as well. He had stood next to Abigail on the bridge, on their way out of Troy, and seen its horrors with shocked eyes. Yet with a city as large as Albany, it was to be expected that not only would they revisit the specter of death, but they would see far more of it. The hours-long walk through the suburbs, the gruesome scene of a woman beleaguered by the soul-shattering visions of psychosis, would be far overshadowed by what awaited them. But as Ryan surveyed the way ahead, he could see no other route. The only course to Albany lay along the highway, through the sad path of human tragedy and wreckage.

“I’m sorry, Abby,” he said. “It looks like this is the only way.” Releasing Ryan’s hand, Abigail turned away and covered her eyes as tears began to well up. They had barely started their journey, and she had already had enough. But the world, as it had become, would go unchanged and offer mercy to no one. The shelter of innocence had been ripped away, leaving anyone who still survived exposed to a life of hand to mouth, hiding in dark places, killing to avoid being killed.

Seeing the need to keep moving, Ryan put an arm around Abigail’s shoulder and, holding her close, began leading her down the highway, past the wrecked cars and decomposing flesh. In her aversion of death, she buried her eyes in Ryan’s shoulder as they slowly made their way down the highway. Death would always be a silent companion, but would occasionally play the cruel trickster, toying with the mind. Now, Ryan and Abigail would soon know its taunting game as it exploited the fear of mortality common to all people; a glance of something from the corner of the eye, or the almost unnoticeable sound echoing from within a fearful psyche.