car with half a tank of gas didn’t feel
right either, especially when carrying a cat and a huge bag on my back seemed
like the only alternative. Why couldn’t things work out for me? Just once? But
the car did run, it had half a tank of gas, and a cigarette lighter. If I could
only get my hands on a car charger for my phone, I could find out where my
family had gone.
And if walking was my only option, then I guess I would
start pounding the pavement in my new Doc Marten boots.
What I would have given to hear an airplane fly overhead or
even the annoying blast of a train’s horn. The heavy silence of nothingness was
slowly killing me, bit by bit.
I had never experienced this kind of quiet before. Even in
the stillest times—a library, a hospital, a funeral, the middle of the night—there
had always been some background noise to fill the void.
But not now. Not here.
My boots pounding against the concrete and the occasional
hiss from my frightened cat were the only sounds. No traffic drone or white
noise.
Absolutely nothing.
The normalcy of day to day existence —the buzz, the chatter,
the hum of the living—swiped clean like an eraser over a blackboard, leaving
only faint signs of what had once been. Each empty building I passed made the
reality of my situation that much more deafening, and lonelier.
I shifted the bag, lowering the straps to my upper arms to
give my aching shoulders a break. The need for a phone charger kept me moving
forward one step at a time. My small town didn’t boast any large chain stores,
so I had my walk cut out for me.
I tried each car I passed, looking for a miracle among the
abandoned vehicles—unlocked doors, keys, a charger that would work for my
particular phone—but nothing. A car would have been nice, but the roads were
such a mess, I doubted I’d have gotten very far anyway.
When the sun slipped further in the sky, I stopped looking. It
marked my time, gave my only real light, and forced me to hurry along.
I’d walked miles and yet, the large city, my destination, seemed
to grow farther and farther away the more I traveled toward it. From the
apartment roof top, it seemed so close, and since Dad and I had driven into the
city several times, taking only fifteen minutes to get there, I hadn’t expected
walking to take this long.
I had definitely underestimated this trip.
My shoulders ached from carrying the heavy bag, my boots
rubbed against my ankles, and I wasn’t even halfway yet. Another hour and I’d
have to start looking for a place to stay the night. Then, to top off this
whole trip, if I was successful in finding a charger, I’d have the joy of
turning around and walking back to the apartment where the car waited–the only
car I had access to.
There had to be a better way, because this way totally sucked.
“I’m not cut out for this survival crap!” Maybe I had to
walk, but that didn’t mean I had to do it with a pleasant attitude. Complaining
about it was the only thing that gave me some relief. I tipped my head to the
sky and voiced my displeasure, “This sucks so bad!”
Callie meowed near my ear, nearly deafening me—at least it
wasn’t silence—but when she quieted down, I could have sworn the slight breeze in
the air carried a deep, but faint laugh.
I whipped around, knife in hand, and searched behind me, all
the while unsure whether to be excited, weary, or afraid I had lost my mind.
Everything appeared the same as it always had: empty,
barren, abandoned, and more than a little depressing. I scanned the side
streets, the desolate homes, and stationary cars. My eyes jumped from one spot
to another like a hyperactive child’s. If there was movement anywhere, I was
going to find it.
But I didn’t see a thing. Nothing stood out as different.
Nothing appeared hopeful at all. Just me, myself, and I... plus an ornery cat.
Had someone been there, I had no idea what I would have
done—cried, wet myself, fainted, thrown myself in their
right either, especially when carrying a cat and a huge bag on my back seemed
like the only alternative. Why couldn’t things work out for me? Just once? But
the car did run, it had half a tank of gas, and a cigarette lighter. If I could
only get my hands on a car charger for my phone, I could find out where my
family had gone.
And if walking was my only option, then I guess I would
start pounding the pavement in my new Doc Marten boots.
What I would have given to hear an airplane fly overhead or
even the annoying blast of a train’s horn. The heavy silence of nothingness was
slowly killing me, bit by bit.
I had never experienced this kind of quiet before. Even in
the stillest times—a library, a hospital, a funeral, the middle of the night—there
had always been some background noise to fill the void.
But not now. Not here.
My boots pounding against the concrete and the occasional
hiss from my frightened cat were the only sounds. No traffic drone or white
noise.
Absolutely nothing.
The normalcy of day to day existence —the buzz, the chatter,
the hum of the living—swiped clean like an eraser over a blackboard, leaving
only faint signs of what had once been. Each empty building I passed made the
reality of my situation that much more deafening, and lonelier.
I shifted the bag, lowering the straps to my upper arms to
give my aching shoulders a break. The need for a phone charger kept me moving
forward one step at a time. My small town didn’t boast any large chain stores,
so I had my walk cut out for me.
I tried each car I passed, looking for a miracle among the
abandoned vehicles—unlocked doors, keys, a charger that would work for my
particular phone—but nothing. A car would have been nice, but the roads were
such a mess, I doubted I’d have gotten very far anyway.
When the sun slipped further in the sky, I stopped looking. It
marked my time, gave my only real light, and forced me to hurry along.
I’d walked miles and yet, the large city, my destination, seemed
to grow farther and farther away the more I traveled toward it. From the
apartment roof top, it seemed so close, and since Dad and I had driven into the
city several times, taking only fifteen minutes to get there, I hadn’t expected
walking to take this long.
I had definitely underestimated this trip.
My shoulders ached from carrying the heavy bag, my boots
rubbed against my ankles, and I wasn’t even halfway yet. Another hour and I’d
have to start looking for a place to stay the night. Then, to top off this
whole trip, if I was successful in finding a charger, I’d have the joy of
turning around and walking back to the apartment where the car waited–the only
car I had access to.
There had to be a better way, because this way totally sucked.
“I’m not cut out for this survival crap!” Maybe I had to
walk, but that didn’t mean I had to do it with a pleasant attitude. Complaining
about it was the only thing that gave me some relief. I tipped my head to the
sky and voiced my displeasure, “This sucks so bad!”
Callie meowed near my ear, nearly deafening me—at least it
wasn’t silence—but when she quieted down, I could have sworn the slight breeze in
the air carried a deep, but faint laugh.
I whipped around, knife in hand, and searched behind me, all
the while unsure whether to be excited, weary, or afraid I had lost my mind.
Everything appeared the same as it always had: empty,
barren, abandoned, and more than a little depressing. I scanned the side
streets, the desolate homes, and stationary cars. My eyes jumped from one spot
to another like a hyperactive child’s. If there was movement anywhere, I was
going to find it.
But I didn’t see a thing. Nothing stood out as different.
Nothing appeared hopeful at all. Just me, myself, and I... plus an ornery cat.
Had someone been there, I had no idea what I would have
done—cried, wet myself, fainted, thrown myself in their
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