The smell should have made us turn back. I suppose we were all committed to our objective, so the acrid stink, equal parts reminiscent of rotting citrus, feces, and gasoline, was ignorable upon our approach. The nasal warning proving insufficient, we pushed ignorantly forward toward the more concrete visual confirmation. The Big City was uninhabitable.
As we crested a suburban hill, the last incline before the first exit ramp into downtown, we saw the once-intimidating skyscrapers surrounded by muck. I had never liked going to the City. It was too big for me. I preferred the more modest Town we had left. In our previous version of reality, it provided all the amusements and resources of the City without its overwhelming obligation of anonymity. In this version of reality, the mass of humanity I associated with this place was gone, replaced by a lake of thick, dark brown, horendously smelly muck.
It looked like the same substance that had shot from the shower in the gas station. Dried chunks of it still stuck to my clothing. The mess formed a lake in the center of the City. We could see from our vantage on the highway that the end of the exit ramp was submerged. We wouldn’t be going that direction.
I noticed Fred and Haley hugging. Evelyn stood next to Jeremy, her arms crossed and her expression blank. Jeremy was watching Fred and Haley.
Walter’s people chattered among themselves. Insular. Separate.
I looked at Walter, a strange instinct that struck me as wrong even in the moment. Now, it feels incomprehensible that I wouldn’t have spoken to Evelyn first. But for some reason, I asked Walter:
“What now?”
Thus, we ended up in this warehouse. We backtracked, on Walter’s suggestion, one highway exit. Walter had pegged the industrial park as we walked to the City. I figured we’d at least find shelter and space. I didn’t have any better ideas.
So here we were. Here I am, Non-reader. The last survivor of my community. The last survivor of anything.