the Zone of Silence

Chapter three

The broken wall lies under me; it had been the face of the building that hit me bare seconds ago. My cheek is pressed against the grit and dust swills away at my breath. This is wrong.
   This is wrong.
This is so wrong! I should be... gone, somewhere else... not here... Because... this mammoth building hit me, I know it did, so why am I now on the other side of the wall?! I sit up and smack my head. Craning my neck around in my hunched position, I find myself in a ribcage of debris just big enough to lie in; clacking shards drop from the roof, burying me under layers of white, bones of metal and other jagged materials poke out at odd angles, and groaning steel beams support a ceiling of cracking stone and... and splintering sense. Because this is wrong- it doesn't make sense; this building landed on me. My fist thumps the ground and it hurts, and the stone stays intact. So the front wall should have crushed me... yet it didn't... but it did... or did it? Perhaps I missed something vital? Perhaps... no. I can't think of any reason I should still be surviving... Would other people survive from this? Yet I have read in newspapers where they have... stopped... stopped surviving? When they fell... Did buildings fall back then as well? Before the years stopped counting did the buildings fall? I realise I am thinking about people again, about the old world and I told you I would stop so I try to. Yet, I feel the paper against my skin and pull it out. In the partial light, I see Davinia's name. I see Nic blinking with all its little lights, the spinning stars. Nascent...
As I sit thinking, stitching so many questions and doubts and thoughts in my head I abruptly hear you. I hear you calling, your voice catching on every syllable as though overused, begging me to tell you where I am.
I'm here! I'm here! I yell, but it's too quiet, too distant for you to hear and yet your voice stays constant, over and over asking where I am. Faithful, certain that I am still surviving. I'm here! I shout, but it's still too quiet. I notice a gap in the wall, enough for me to wring myself though without the backpack. Where is the backpack? It isn't on me, where could it be? Was it caught on something or maybe this building tore it from me? Or did the straps finally give out while I was running? It's just like the dome building again. I ignore the heavy weight in my chest and scramble on elbows and knees through the narrow opening and my body aches, as though every movement is breaking it. The marrow of the building grabs at me as I clamber towards your shouts, pinching me as I funnel through the tight gaps. My breathing grows loud and heavy as I slowly get nearer to you, your voice not moving as you yell. I'm here! I scream back but it's still too quiet and we are too far apart.

Somewhere along the way my skin becomes viscid from sweat and blood from numerous scrapes under the beleaguer of the building. My clothes tear against the floor. My head a nothingness. I don't realise it has become brighter, nor that the body of debris has gone, not until I almost crawl over the edge of a crevice. I stop. My heart leaping in my throat as I stare into the yawning mouth of darkness. I hear your voice behind me but a wail I haven't heard before sings in my ears. The shadow is there, in the abyss as it's mammoth arms reach up to embrace me. I push away from it and it drops its arms, the wailing, I realise is crying. Coming from that shadow. It breaks me to hear it. My body tips forwards and though ground holds my skin, my head falls over itself and plummets into the dark.

~~~

    I wake to buzzing.
    Buzzing vibrating through me. You are here, leaning blearily over me as you push the tablet against my chest. Heavily, I rise to sit and you let go. In my lap I can see (only just) Yourtube on the screen playing the buzz in loops. YouTube, you say still too stupid to understand. You shake your head and laugh thinly. Slowly, I blink and in that time you suddenly have the backpack with you, in your hands, reaching it out to me. I sit up, not remembering having lain down. You passed out, you tell me as you give the backpack to me and I take it, my bloody hands smearing rusty greys over the old material. I thought I had lost it. I sit, cradling it, and then look up at you, and ask you to help me stand. You shake your head and laugh softly. Abruptly, I find I have had enough. I want to know answers. You laugh again and ask why I am not standing, why I am looking at the backpack so strangely.
    I don't say anything- I don't even glance at you. I stare lividly at my thoughts. Of all the thoughts I have ever had, of what grass smells like, of what ghosting was, of the spinning stars, of Davinia, of voices, of touch, of the sounds on YourTube (the bone-bare very few noises able to come through on the tablet's muffled speaker), of that first video, of who that person was on the video, of their life, of their thoughts, of the dome building, of people now so... gone, of that question, of THAT question, OF THAT UNANSWERABLE QUESTION: