The world was dead.
Or close enough.
Elias carefully moved through the streets of the renowned party city, his breath stifled. He was careful, his bloodshot eyes slowly scanned his surroundings for abnormalities.
Abnormalities?
Did he really need search for them?
How laughable.
The world was abnormal.
The world was strange.
The world was empty.
Sky high apartments littered the world famous, rich party city, luxury cars littered the spotless streets and yet silence littered the paths, as far as the eye could see.
The world was silent, the world was empty.
No voices. No distant cars horns. No birds.
It should never be this quiet
As the setting sun slowly descended, the wind soared, moving up through the empty sky high apartments, descended and wove through the empty shops, swaying merrily.
Then it slowly wrapped around the strange disheveled man in an untucked gray dress shirt and purple pants. It whispered to him, murmurs, in hope he would understand. In hope he would see.
"Dr. Elias Mercer,… the Dr. Elias Mercer?"
Elias' head roughly spun to the side, nearly injuring his scrawny neck. His red eyes darted back and forth, desperately looking for the source of the voice. He had heard it. Someone called out to him. He had heard it. He had heard it. It was a voice, yes a voice, and it was close. His eyes locked unto the bakery on the other side of the street. Perhaps it came from there. Yes, from the bakery. Any rational survivor would choose to stay in a place they could get food or get materials to make some. It was perfectly rational human behavior.
For a second, he thought of calling out too. He wanted the voice to know it was him. That there was another survivor, that they could work together.
However, immediately the thought came up, his body shuddered uncontrollably. Chills run down his spine as he cleverly realized his mistake. It would find him. Yes it would.
It was searching, looking for him, hiding in the shadows, on the walls, on the rooftops, in the buildings. He had barely escaped the last time. If he called out, …...
Elias' scrawny body shook with fear.
His stomach rumbled softly. His throat was parched and dry. Maybe he needed food and water. He could head into the bakery, eat and drink with the survivor in there. Yes, he could do that. Maybe he would rest too. Close his eyes for a bit.
Slowly, he crossed the street, his bare worn out feet delicately traversing the street one step at a time, careful not to make any noise. He could almost imagine it. The fizz crackling against his tongue like tiny fireworks, the cooling, soothing feel of cold soda running down his parched throat. And the steak, he could almost taste the smoky char, the burst of rich; savory juices coating his tongue, the buttery smoothness melting against his teeth .
As Elias stepped into the bookshop, eagerly hoping he would find a journal to document his life, he turned to glance at the bright sun hanging in the middle of the sky. For a minute, he had gotten a strange feeling, one he couldn't quite put in words.
He stood, confused for a while, before closing the door of the bar, vanishing into its depths.