Silas Gibson

I crept along the edge of the tall cement wall, running soot-mottled hands along its scratchy surface. It was very cold out. So cold that you could feel your muscles rubbing raw against the bones beneath them. I wish I could have stopped all of this from happening in the first place; make it warm and nice again so I could just live a happy life.

It all started with a huge project, led by a certain Bessere L. Welt, who originated from Ohio- of course Ohio. Bessere created industrial cooling systems dedicated to pumping colder air into the atmosphere to act against global warming, but the really ironic part is that the design of “CountryCool” was rumored to be inspired by a fan.  A plastic table fan. 

No wonder it went wrong! I’d often think. These glorified ceiling fans were as common a sight as sparrows, and two years ago, these earth-refrigerating structures that Bessere built went haywire when President Bane became paranoid. It was a particularly hot summer, and Mr. Bane-of-My-Existence decided to increase the power due to a suspicion that they were dysfunctional, unaware of the errors it would cause. When the chemicals from the machines drifted into the atmosphere, they mixed with the rainwater and caused a dramatic shift in the precipitation temperature, which leads us to today.

I had heard whisperings of Welt and Bane coming together to create another structure. One large enough to house an entire city of people: “The Equilibrium.” From what I had heard of it, The Equilibrium was a place where everyone could be warm; surrounded by perfect people in a perfect climate.  However, despite wishing for such a place to be real, it existed only in gossip. Besides, I didn’t need The Equilibrium anyways.

“You could have borrowed my snowpants, Silas.” My girlfriend Beatrix called, returning me to the present. It seemed she had taken notice of my shivering frame 

“I know, Bee, and I told you that you needed it more.” I glanced down at the tattered cloth covering my sturdy legs. Sure, it looked shabby, but it did the job. My lover replied with an exerting eye-roll and we continued on our way. 

It hadn’t been until recently that I was actually proud of the body I was in. Now lean and muscular, I had finally spread my wings, with an improvised haircut sticking out from under my wool hat. Etched across my cheek was a scar from a tussle with a bird. It was odd to me, considering the fact that I hadn’t sustained any bad injuries since the beginning of the massive freeze, but my downfall ended up being a scratch from a gull who had wanted food just as badly as I did I recall Beatrix patching me up after that incident.

Beatrix… I thought fondly, exchanging a subtle but meaningful glance with her. A few strands of red curls fell over her shoulders, the fine raspberry ringlets circling her face. The rest of her hair was tied back in a loose bun, just as messy as everything else. She was a beautiful young lady, spry and intelligent, and the love of my life.

I lumbered my gaze over my surroundings: mostly white, with patches of green or yellow where leaves or grass poked through the ice. Trees dotted the landscape around us wherever the ground was sturdy enough to hold their roots in place. It was hard to imagine the ground being green.

“Do you think we’ll get married one day?” Beatrix asked out of the blue, ejecting me from my quiet thoughts. Startled, I shifted to look at her, hesitating for a long moment.

“As soon as I find a ring.” I assured her. 

Turning away, I bit the inside of my cheek. I wish I could promise that, I really did, but what if something happened to one of us before then? What if I couldn’t spend the rest of my life with her? I often dreamt about our future together. A cabin in the woods, and a kid. Oh, a kid of our own… We used to talk about what we would name our child, if we had one. Maybe Atla or Atlas, depending on whether it were a girl or a boy.  I fiddled with the hem of my pocket, wondering about such a life. 

   There was an uncomfortably long silence before I realized Bee had been watching me. I thumbed my pocket’s border more, and she met me with that affectionate eye roll again. Beatrix was a gentle dove, while I was a blundering ostrich.

My feet fell in feather-soft swirls of snow. Snow that had been buffeted by the wind against the range of stone to my left; snow that fell in flakes on my jacket and hat and lay dusted over the area encircling me. It reminded me of a million miniscule feathers, fluttering to the ground like a flock of snow geese.

I was jostled out of my own daydreams when my foot nudged something stiff on the ground. I pulled back, peering downwards to investigate the object that I had just bumped.

“Another seagull,” I announced, my tone dappled with disappointment. 

“Poor thing,” Beatrix uttered softly, lowering a sad expression towards the shape on the ground. 

It wasn’t unusual to see gulls spotting the skies in early mornings and afternoons. They were one of the most resilient creatures in the area, but ever since we left the house this morning, we kept stumbling upon the poor birds’ expired bodies, all still rigid from rigor mortis. Each of the dead bodies looked like it had been starved to death: thin, with sunken-in eyes and bedraggled forms.

I turned to Bee, who was barely listening to me. She seemed distracted, lathing a stare over the environment we were in.

That was when something caught my eye.

Instantly, blood rushed to my limbs as I dropped into a defensive stance. Had I just seen movement behind those trees, or had I made it up? In my peripheral, I saw Beatrix stiffen. She had noticed something, too. 

Before I could even process, Beatrix threw her arms around me and pulled me to the ground. Snow filled my face. I heard a muffled CRACK, CRACK, through my heavy wool hat. A few more crashing shots rang out, and I was beginning to panic. In the position I was in, it was impossible to get a hold of my firearm.

CRACK, CRACK, CRACK! Three more shots. I could hear blood pumping through my ears. It was likely a rival gang, here to peck away any source of food that we had. 

“We have to run,” I hissed urgently, unsure of whether my knees were shaking with terror or cold. My heart pulsed rapidly in my chest, and Beatrix placed an anchoring hand on my shoulder. I gave it a squeeze, glancing into her eyes. Something behind her grabbed my attention, and I was reminded of a spot I had hidden in once before.

“Right over there, along that road, is an overhang,” I spoke quickly, dread rising in my voice. I could hear footsteps approaching, maybe thirty yards away, and tried desperately to suppress the volume at which I spoke. 

Beatrix and I made eye contact, sharing a frantic wordless exchange. I lifted up a hand, holding up three fingers.

Three.. An occasional CRACK sounded in the otherwise quiet atmosphere.. Two.. My stare ricocheted through the swaying branches.. One! 

Beatrix and I vaulted from our cover, my heartbeat pounding in my ears. Distantly calling birds squawked sarcastic remarks towards us as we raced toward our destination, and that was when I saw him: a hulking figure, standing near-still, all alone in the veil of the trees. There was no way he was an ordinary looter. Looters were gulls, greedy and thin. But this man was more than that. This man was a vulture. He was Death.

 CRACK, CRACK. The man’s gun went off again, separating me from my mind. Bee and I were still running for our lives, and I was grasping desperately for my weapon, unable to reach it while I was sprinting. Death lurked like a vulture above our heads. CRACK! A burning pain exploded in my shoulder. I heard Beatrix yelp and spun my gaze around to look at her. I clenched my teeth, biting back the pain, but continued to run. Down, down, onto the once-lively avenue, and hastily towards the bridge. Beatrix and I hustled out of sight as we dropped ourselves under the structure. Although it was dark and musty, the overgrowth hid us from the wind and snow.

Birds falling from the sky, my mind tolled with unnerving pictures, broken, hollow bones. 

I winced, my injury stinging, and turned my gaze to Beatrix, whose expression was soaked with terror. I watched as she lifted a pale hand to eye level, raspberry droplets falling from her fingertips and onto the filthy ground. Bee looked at me, her soft blue eyes filled to the brim with a saturated fear, and I rushed to her side. I wrapped weak arms around her and cradled her in my embrace, tracing my tear-swollen gaze along the trail of blood she had left in the snow. She leaned into me, her body cold and shaking against mine. Hiccuping sobs began to well up in my throat as I felt scarlet fluid pooling under my knees. 

A mangled dove, eyes sightless.

“Silas-” Beatrix uttered, her voice cracking as tears filled her eyes. I crushed my panic, ignoring the deep maroon that was beginning to stain our clothing, and blinked in a useless attempt to clear the blur from my eyes.

I supported her head in my hand, pulling her to myself so that she didn’t have to see the miserable look on my face in her last moments.

“Don’t go..” I muttered weakly. No cabin in the woods… No kid of our own… The pain was nameless. I ran my cold fingers through her tangled hair in a desperate effort to convince myself that she was still there. That the light hadn’t left her eyes. 

It was too late. Any thought that had previously filled my head fizzled away, veiled by a layer of static. I didn’t even notice myself getting to my feet, reaching for my weapon. I felt entirely numb.

Through the windows of my eyes, I could see him: the vulture. Anger encompassed my body, swathing my despair with layers of unadulterated rage. I couldn’t let him get away with this.

Three.. I gripped the heavy weapon in my feeble grasp. Two.. Chambering a bullet, I raised my rifle and trained what little focus I had right between his eyes. One.

A vulture, neck-deep in living flesh.

Featured Image: “Another Full Moon” by Lachlan is licensed under CC BY 2.0.