Fahrenheit 451 Fanfiction - The Cracked Hourglass

Four - The Cracked Hourglass

Montag, Granger, and the rest of the group approached the desolate, burning ruins of the city they once called home. Not a single building was left standing; all that remained was the black and gray peppering of rubble and ash across the landscape. Metal frames of cars were fused to the ground from the heat of the explosion, and imprints of bodies lay pressed to the ground, blackened and pulverized to the point of resembling the silhouettes of tortured ghouls, frozen in eternal torment and damnation. Smoke bellowed out from flaming ruins in every direction, blanketing the lifeless ruins of the city in an overcast haze of dread. "Completely obliterated," uttered Montag quietly. He took a deep breath in through his nose. The sweet scent of smoke and burning ash permeated his nostrils. He felt that nostalgic feeling again, that same palpable, instantaneous pleasure that came from dowsing books with kerosene and setting them ablaze. For a moment, he was transported back to his time as a fireman: he remembered the thrill of the serpent hose spitting its venom onto rows of books, the satisfaction of the crackling and popping paper transforming black silt, the enticement of the searing flames coyly dancing around him, licking his flameproof jacket. He snapped back to the present, quickly reminding himself of how perverse and deeply unhappy he would always feel after committing that heinous act.

No, that is not who I am anymore, Montag thought to himself. That person is no more, vaporized by the heat of the bombs, removed from existence forever, along with everyone and everything else I once knew. Except for one man.

Montag recalled his last conversation with Faber. "General Delivery, St. Louis," Montag said to himself. But I can't write to him now, he thought. The post office is gone, just like everything else. And Faber, even if he is still alive, is probably stranded somewhere in the outskirts of the ruins of St. Louis. But maybe St. Louis hasn't been bombed yet. Maybe Faber found his friend with the printing press.

"How far is St. Louis from here?" Montag asked Granger as the men walked the perimeter of the smoking fire pit that was once a bustling city.

"St. Louis? Approximately 200 miles. That is, if it hasn't already been leveled to the ground."

"We need to go there. Faber is in St. Louis. He left yesterday morning to meet a friend who has a printing press. I found a copy of the Bible. It may be the only one in existence. Faber knows a retired printer there, and he plans to print copies of it."

"You're better off not wasting your time thinking about him. St. Louis was likely already obliterated days ago along with the rest of the major cities in the US. Consider Faber gone, just like everyone else."

"Yes, but what other choice do we have? This city is gone, everyone is dead, there's nothing here for us. If we are going to rebuild society, we need to find other survivors, other intellectuals. And the only one we know who has even a sliver of a chance of being alive is Faber."

Granger was silent for a long moment, contemplating what Montag said.

He conceded. "I suppose going in the direction of St. Louis is as good as any other direction."

"How long will it take?"
"It could take us anywhere from a week to two weeks."

"When can we leave?"

"We'll leave tomorrow after gathering whatever we can salvage from the ruins."

º º º

"How much more time will it be before the materials arrive?"

"Minimum one, possibly two weeks."

"We don't have that much time, dammit! Is there any other way?"

"I'm afraid not."