Twisted skeletons of buildings hollowed out and left to gather ash create a jagged horizon that juts into the sky in jagged peaks. A palate of purples, pinks, and oranges layer over each other as the morning sky awaits the sun. It's pre-dawn, just before curfew is lifted. The streets are empty, even the hobos that usually inhabit the alleyways aren't in their usual places.
It seems the robots sentinels are doing their jobs quite well.
A building of green offsets its ragged neighbours, the sign proudly stating that it's an apothecary, Ye Old Apothecary to be precise. On the sidewalk in front of it, a woman in a white dress lies straight and rigid. Rigor mortis has taken over the corpse and the gruesome display has been left alone by whomever lives here. Gruesome because she's still staring at the starless sky. Even moreso because where a heart should rest there is only a bloody cavity.
Falling asleep has never been difficult for Jaiden. Night falls and, with a goodnight to the other two fugitives he's calling roommates, he falls into a blissful sleep where darkness swirls around him. Comforting and warm. But then, the darkness claws at him, pulling him down like a swimmer being pulled beneath the surface, and it's only after kicking his way to the surface that he finds himself, gasping, on the streets in a world that truly is horrifying.
Jaiden should not be here. He should not be seeing this.
With his eyes open, Jaiden starts down the sidewalk, his bare feet sending up swirls of dust with each step, leaving tracks that the most inexperienced tracker could follow. It's not normal, this desolation, and even less normal is the greenish building labeled neatly with 'Ye Olde Apothecary.' It's the most undamaged building there, so it's the obvious place to go, but in front of it, a corpse lies, rigid. "Bloody hell…" he murmurs, walking closer, stopping with his toes just at the periphery of the light bathing the body from above, remaining in anonymous shadow. "This has got to be a dream…"
As the sun breaks night into dawn, rays of too bright sun are nearly blinding as they pierce through the bare frames of high rise buildings and smaller neighborhood shops. A few of them catch the crimson curls on the corpse's head, glued together with sticky blood that's been left to harden overnight. The dull hue of blue eyes turned dusky and lips drained of color that remain parted from what was probably a last breath comprise the woman's last facial expression. She was afraid.
clip-clop-clop-clip-clop-clip-clop-clop
The uneven gait of slow moving hooves against concrete can be heard just down the block. The only sign of life for miles, perhaps. As the behemoth of a horse rounds out from a cross streets it pauses and stares at the man looming over the body and nickers slightly. Almost as if it is laughing at him.
Jaiden lifts his hands to block out the light, stepping aside for a moment into the shade, pulling a cap from his back pocket to pull on his head and shield his eyes from the sun, looking over at the sound of hoofbeats approaching from the distance.
He moves, slightly, standing in between the corpse and the horse, his hands at his sides, but ready for anything that may happen. "I don't suppose you know what happened to her, do you, horse?" Jaiden kneels and brushes a hand over Delia's face lightly, frowning. "Someone cut her heart out, it looks like…not a pretty way to go for such a pretty girl."
Silly Australian, horses can't talk.
It's what the horse might be saying if it could talk. As it is, the large mammal just stares at him with one blue eye. Horse pupils are unsettling because they're so oddly shaped, like pregnant Mike and Ike's. Or fat ones, take your pick. A fan of reddish eyelashes sweep down lazily, hiding the disgusting black blotches centered against such a bright blue. A mane that is a little more orange than the hide of the bay mare falls forward as the large head dips down toward the body. Nostrils flare at the scent of blood and a snorted cloud of hot breath sends a shower of dried flakes skittering across the walk to land on the bottom glass of the door.
Nonplussed, it lifts its head again and clip clops in an unsteady rhythm toward the window of the shop. A window full of curios and oddities. Pictures and news clippings are set into a framed collage and it's this piece that centers the display.
Keeping a wary eye on the horse as he approaches, Jaiden stands his ground, protecting the fallen body even as the horse looks at him. He blinks and turns to peer at the window, then back to the horse. What's that, boy? You want me to look into the window? Giving a glance down to the fallen Delia, Jaiden turns to peer into the window to see what the display holds.
There are a quite a number of different pictures pasted to what seems to be a crayon rubbing. The words are mostly covered up except at the top which reads a B-E-T, the last letter is hidden by a picture of a fat lilac. Down in the right hand corner is the one picture that presses out much clearer than the rest. A picture of Jaiden himself with a boy in his shoulders.
"Beth…" Jaiden murmurs softly, glancing to the horse again before studying the pictures, one hand resting on the glass lightly, as if to touch the pictures through it although the glass prevents it. And the picture of him with the boy? With JJ. "This has to be a dream…..so far, only two people know about it.
Jaiden's view of the collage is obstructed by a fog created by the billow of hot air coming from the nostrils of the horse. It grows until almost all of the window is rudely obscured in a white haze. Once there's nothing more to look at, the mare turns her back on the Australian and flicks her tail from side to side, swatting at flies that aren't there. With her head bowed, she begins plodding further down the sidewalk, seemingly uninterested in keeping the company of him any longer.
Realization, confirmation, lucidity; all these factor into the dimming of Jaiden's surroundings and before he has a chance to wipe at the window to catch one last glimpse of his son, reality begins to seep in. By the time the horse rounds the corner, everything is gone and Jaiden is alone with nothing but an empty shell of a green building in front of him.
Somewhere between the fogging of glass and the disappearance of a horse, age and decay have claimed the shop. The weathered sign proclaiming its name, Ye Old Apothecary, still reads visible though a bit faded.
Reaching for the window to wipe away the condensation does no good, because as soon as his fingers touch the glass, the images behind fade, as if they were never there, the pictures vanishing like bubbles popping beneath insistent hands. "Ye Olde Apothecary." he repeats to himself, remembering it, as he wakes with a start.
In the sleeping bag on the floor of the safe house Jaiden stirs, green eyes flicking open, gazing into the darkened room with a shiver. LOoks like someone's going investigating in the morning….
