The Glass City [#Wattys2016]

Part 4

    I check my list, and double check it, and triple check it.  I have everything I need to survive for a week in the wasteland that lies between here and the Glass City.  Four bottles of water, some food, a blanket, a jacket, a flashlight with extra batteries, an extra gas mask, a first aid kit, and a meager supply of money are in my worn-out backpack, the biggest bag in the house.  I've never been out at night before, but I need to leave now, because my father is at work and Cass is asleep.  I've moved some food and water up to Cass's room so that if she wakes up hungry, she doesn't have to go downstairs.  I also left her and my dad a note, telling them I'd be home soon, and not to worry.
But I'm worried. Nobody that we know of has ever ventured too far into the wasteland and come back out alive.
Since pollution overtook the world, most of the Earth is made up of the wasteland.  There are places, the rich places, that were prepared for the waves of bad air and black clouds.  We call them bubbles, cause they have protective shields around them, keeping everything the same as it was before.  My family doesn't live in a bubble, but in one of the spots that they call an oasis, where the pollution isn't as bad and we're able to do a little farming.  People still get sick though, all the time.
I look in on Cass one last time, and see her sleeping peacefully for the first time in a long time.  The doctor spared us a couple pills to help her sleep better, and they're working like a charm.
I open up the door to the black sky.  It's dark grey during the day, and black at night.  The only light is from our meager porch light, the small town behind us, and the Glass City on the horizon.  I fasten my gas mask, and set out into the night.
~ ~ ~ ~
It's been about fifteen minutes, and the lights of the town are faded behind me.  I flip on my flashlight, and it casts a glow over the ground in front of me.  I shine the light back and forth as I walk so that I don't trip over anything.  Trash blows in the gentle wind, plastic bags, scraps of paper, tumbling over each other.  They swirl around my feet, and I step over them carefully.  That's when the smell hits me.
The stench of death.  And then I hear it.
It's the sound of a current, of rushing water.  I know where I am now.  The river.  The point of no return.  The river is the border in the wasteland between the waste, and the toxic waste.
And there it is.  The water is pitch black, the epitome of ominous.  I shine the light on the water, and something glimmers.  I look closer, and realize that dead fish float by in the rushing water.
"The bridge should be somewhere around here," I mutter to myself, and shine my flashlight down the riverbank.  A rusted metal bridge is stretched over the churning water.  I walk over to it, and it gleams with moisture.
I take a deep breath and set my left foot on the edge of the bridge.  It slips a little, and I tighten my gas mask and grab onto the railing.  I tentatively take another step, and the bridge creaks and moans.  I walk faster, still clutching the railing.  I hear a crack, and I jump onto the riverbank of the other side, just as the rusty bridge crumbles away behind me.  I take a few steps away from the bridge, and bend my knees into a crouch, taking shaky breaths.  My knuckles are clenched tight around my flashlight, and I run a trembling hand through my hair.  I stand and shine my flashlight on the ground in front of me.  There is a mound of dirt and broken cement, and a stream of tar is running down it, past my feet, and into the water behind me.  I start the trek up the hill, shining my light in front of me.  Just when my legs start to ache, I reach the top of the slope.
As I look over the crest of the hill, I gasp.
Now I realize why they call it the wasteland.
Smoke billows up from holes in the ground, which is landscaped entirely of broken cement, dirt, and concrete.  Tar pits are placed almost strategically every couple of meters, and some are shriveled and dried up.  Broken and snapped wood planks are stacked on each other in a massive pile to the east, and trash tumbles across the ground, getting stuck on the debris.  Rusted metal rebar sticks out of the ground in places, tall and menacing, casting shadows from my flashlight.
I take a deep breath and start down the hill, into the wasteland.