The Dreaming: Old Shalon (Book 4)

4. A Walk in the Park

We walked in silence to the park. With every step away from my apartment building, my safe haven in this wretched city, I could feel my adrenaline rise.

The girl was silent the whole way, looking down at the ground, not bothering to see where we were headed, but concentrating on where she was walking to protect her bare feet.

Her grasp on my hand was bordering on uncomfortable. I tried to release her grip by pulling my hand away, but she only clasped on tighter, as if she was afraid I was going to fall over and she needed to help me stand up.

We walked four old city blocks, but didn't see a single soul; I was shocked by how many people had left since I'd been outside last. The city was an empty shell, a carcass — the giant carcass of a once thriving organism. The buildings around us were completely devastated, scorched from the fires, windows all smashed, apartments and cars gutted and empty.

The sidewalks were broken so we chose to walk in the road. Plant matter was taking over. Grass, shrubs, and especially blackberry bushes were rampant. There was a tree in the middle of 7th avenue — it was already past it's sapling stage. When we walked past it, I could not identify the species. It had small, oval leaves — it could have been an olive tree.

When we arrived at the park, I had to sit down and catch my breath, so we sat on what remained of a park bench at the edge of the park. In front of us, the park grass was higher than our heads, with paths woven through it by animals — coyote and wild dogs mainly, and some people. There were probably people living in there somewhere.

I didn't feel safe going in there.

I looked at the girl beside me and wondered what she was thinking. If she was relieved to be away from Money, she didn't let it show. She was chewing on the right sleeve of her black nylon jacket, her other hand buried somewhere in the long sleeve, clutched at her chest, holding the jacket closed against her. She was humming or mumbling something repetitively. The girl was clearly in shock.

Shit! I thought to myself. I briefly wondered again if I'd made a huge mistake, but immediately knew that line of thinking was the least helpful thing I could do at that point, so I pushed it away. But still, the consequences of what I had just done were enormous, and were beginning to fully sink in. How would I get into my apartment again? And what in godsname was I going to do with this girl? What had possessed me to rescue her?

Just keep breathing, I reminded myself.

I looked at my feet — there were some tufts of dirty, crunchy snow beneath the bench. The grass was struggling to come up around it. The bench itself was cold and covered in a slimy layer of mossy algae.

I lifted my head and glanced at the girl beside me — she was watching me like a hawk from the corner of her eye. Her bare trembling legs were out of place here in the cold, in the grass — transluscent flesh, white with blue undertones.

She saw me looking at her legs and pulled her skirt down, squeezing her knees tight together and pointing her entire body away from me.

She was getting smaller and smaller by the second, like Alice after eating the cookie. At least she was good at something — it was better than nothing; being invisible could, in fact, be very useful.

I took a deep breath. What was her name again? Jeez, my memory was definitely failing me.

"Listen, child. Do you know where to get some warmer clothes and a decent pair of shoes?"

The girl made an indeterminate motion with her head.

"Was that a yes or a no? Speak up, now."

"Yes," she whispered.