Sorrow's Gift

Chapter Fifty-Two: The Boy

Rooftops soared past him. He had no idea how fast he was running now, but it only took him a few seconds to cross most of the rooftops before he was back in the air, soaring high above the streets.

Just ahead, though, he could see that he was running out of room. The next block of buildings were taller than the ones he'd been jumping so far, and he wasn't sure he would be able to make that kind of jump. But if he didn't slow down, he wouldn't be able to stop in time, either.

Should he risk it?

He might have a better chance of doing it now than if he slowed down and lost his momentum. He didn't want to have to go down to the streets again. At this rate, he might be able to get close to the guardian by nightfall. If he switched to having to navigate the streets, it could take days.

He decided to go for it.

He leaned forward and crouched low as he reached the edge of the rooftop. He vaulted himself across the space, imagining the wind lifting him higher so he could reach the next ledge, but by the time he'd gotten halfway over, he knew he wasn't going to make it.

He risked a glance downward and cried out. He was so high up that if he fell now, there would be nothing left of him but a bloodstain on the pavement.

He stretched his arms, reaching for the ledge that hung over the next rooftop. His body slammed against the brick and his fingertips latched on. Light flashed through his eyes from the blow, but he concentrated on holding on above all else.

He wasn't strong. He'd always been a scrawny kid, fast but small. He tried to pull himself up, but it was too hard. He was barely hanging on and every second that passed seemed to add ten pounds to him.

He glanced down and closed his eyes, pressing his head against the brick. He didn't want to die. Not now.

He looked from side-to-side, searching for the fire escape or a ladder of some kind. He spotted one several feet away and started swinging his body back and forth. With each forward swing, he let go and flew just a little closer to the ladder. It took almost half an hour to go five feet, but when he made it and his fingers curled around the cool metal ladder, he cried for joy.

He hugged the ladder tight and rested his arms for a minute before he climbed to the top of the building.

There were no infected on this rooftop, so he sat down and leaned his back against some kind of air vent. The sun beat down on his dark skin and sweat trickled down the side of his face. He shrugged out of his hoodie and stuffed it deep into his backpack.

Hunger pains twisted his stomach, so he searched for a pack of crackers and his bottle of water.

Everything looked different from up here.

The sun was shining and as he ate, he looked toward Manhattan at the tall buildings that made up the iconic skyline.

He looked toward the area of Central Park. He couldn't see the park from here, but he could feel the guardian's blood pulsing through her veins. She was close. He closed his eyes, a vision of a hotel coming to him. The girl was in a room at the Four Seasons. He could see the sign out front as plain as day. She was there, in a balcony room. If he could make it to a nearby rooftop, he could jump to her balcony and save her.

When he opened his eyes, the vision faded, but the information was burned on his brain. He didn't understand how he knew, but he trusted it.

He finished his meal and sat for a few more minutes, looking out over the city. From here, it still looked like a postcard, windows glinting in the light. The Empire State Building rose above all the rest. It was beautiful and quiet, the air so clear.

But even for all its beauty, there was a sinister silence that sent a shiver down his back. It wasn't supposed to be so quiet here. The city was all about life and movement and noise, but the virus had stolen that.

His mom used to complain about all the traffic and the constant honking outside their building and on the streets. She'd hated that about New York, but the boy would have given anything to hear cars honking and people shouting at each other right now. It wasn't right to hear the city so quiet.

As he stood and pulled the backpack onto his shoulders, he wondered if the city would ever regain its life, or if it would always and forever be a tomb where the only sounds were those of the hungry rotters stumbling from place to place.