This city used to be something once. I’ve seen pictures of the way it gleamed-sun so bright off windows it could burn your eyes. At night ,lights shouted from steel like catcalls, loud and lewd, while all day long white gloved men rushed to open doors for woman who tottered about on sky-scraper heels.
I wonder sometimes what happened to those woman when the return hit –how they were able to run and survive with such absurd contrapions strapped to their feet. How diffrant the world must have been before-safe and comfortable. The city’s nothing like that anymore. Now bare beams scrape the sky like splintered finger bones. Half the high rises have fallen, and scavengers pilfered the intricately scrolled ironwork long ago. There’s not much of anything left anymore, jut the fear that seeps fog like through the streets.
Fear of the Recruiters. Fear of the Unconsecrated. Fear of tomorrow.
Even so ,this city’s been my home. Other than the village I lived in as a child , this is the only world I’ve known. It’s sharp-cornered and raw but its refuge for those with a burning inside to survive. You pay your rents, you follow the rules and you do what it takes to keep alive.
Which is why I find myself on the Neverlands side of the Palisade wall that cordons off and protects the dark city as the last dregs of the evening slide across the sky. This is the place where Liam would go when he was desperate for money, desperate to trade so we could pay our rent and stay in our tiny flat for another year. It’s the place where, after the blade of my only knife broke this afternoon, I’ve come for help.
Clutching the replacement blade tightly, I’ve started to cross over one of the bridges strung between two buildings when I hear a rumbling cough. It’s approaching dusk and storm clouds hover over the river, causing the light to drip a dull green. I shuffle faster toward the next roof, determined to get back to my flat in the dark city before full night, but as soon as my foot lands on the rickety bridge connecting the buildings a voice calls out, "wouldn’t do that if I were you."
I freeze, the frayed rope railing in one hand. I’ve been alone long enough to have learned to look out for myself, yet something about the warning makes me hesitate. Just as I start to take another step the voice says, "look down," and I do. The ally a dozen stores down below is dim and choked in shadows, but evenso I see something moving. A moan floats up, echoing softly between the buildings as it rises. The sun flects down the alley, glinting briefly off what looks like eyes and a row of cracked teeth.
As my gaze adjusts I can make ut dozens of clawing fingers reaching for me amid a pile of broken bodes that should have died from their falls but didn’t. Or maybe they did die and infections brought them back as plague rats. I shiver, disgust rolling through me.
Carefully, I inch back onto the roof , noticing how the wooden boards I was just about to walk on were rotten. One more step and I wouldve been dead ,wait no I would’ve become one of those plague rats.
"well arent you gonna thank me?" that annoying voice says, "thanks" I mumbled. And with that I ran till I felt a hand run its way up my leg