Sleep

Chapter 7

The cat followed Tom past the shelter and out of the restaurant. Dark clouds surrounded the clearing, producing a heavy wind that swept down the continuous road. Tom named the cat Amber, after the color of her fur. Amber sauntered up to Tom as he stopped to glance towards the gas station, rubbing against his leg and prompting Tom to pat her on the head.

He wandered towards the nearest building, a small rustic coffee shop that had crumpled next to an array of peeling oak trees. Beams of wet, dented wood lay stridden next to the entrance, and a dusty glass sign was smashed under a fallen branch. Tom squeezed his way inside through a rough break on the side of the demolished wall, and he squinted in darkness at the cracked bricks and the overgrown weeds that filled up the room.

The building itself was shabby, and he could see about 10 feet to the nearest wall. Tom climbed over more pieces of jagged wood, a broken chunk of granite that once connected to the front counter, and newspapers that were covered in mud and footprints. He picked up one of the papers and unfolded it. The headline was hard to make out, so Tom hurried over to the light and read:

December 15th, 2046

Terror hits Washington, D.C.

Tom crawled out of the opening and stared at the front cover. Most of the newspaper was smudged from dirt and rain that slowly washed away the ink, but the headline was clear enough. He looked down towards one of the bigger chunks of text and made out another phrase towards the bottom of the page:

5,000 dead.

He spotted another newspaper next to the smashed window. He picked it up with shaking hands and unfolded the first page. This newspaper was much more eligible; the headline and the first body of text were pristine except for the dust that had settled on the top of the yellowing paper. He blew off the dust and read:

April 5th, 2047

Times Square in Ruins

More than 5,000 were injured, and over 2,000 were killed after a UHF plane crashed into Times Square earlier this week.

He threw the newspaper on the ground and stumbled towards the gas station near the restaurant, more confused than ever. Amber ran ahead towards the door, an empty frame with a shattered pane of glass that gleamed as he followed her inside. Tom looked up. The roof was destroyed, and pieces of cracked tile were scattered across the dirty floor. He slowly made his way to the back of the small store and coughed. The end of the store had a long, grimy hallway that extended towards the unkempt bathrooms. He squinted down the hall, covering his nose with the cuff of his sleeve. Amber's ears went up. She brushed past Tom and slowly sneaked down the path, making her way past the wreckage that piled up against the walls. He followed her with caution, and he was about 10 feet away from the end of the hallway when he heard a voice.

The noise came from a small device on a wooden bench against the back wall, and there was also a torn piece of folded paper beside it. Amber leaped on top of it and pushed the thing with her paws. It was a radio, with a big, jutting antenna that was bent towards the middle. Tom seized it wildly and held it to his ear.

"...Position... refuge...Toronto-"

Tom gasped. The radio suddenly emitted a high-pitched whine before it went silent.