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Chapter 101

It's hard to imagine the City in all it's former glory, but I'm sure it must have been magnificent, as an understatement.
Every step falls muffled by the thick carpet of gathered ash, which swirls up and around us. Neither me or Glass speak, and I have to resist looking over my shoulder for Coal and possibly blowing cover. I'm meant to be visible. It's his job to slink in the shadows in case of anything tricky. Consider it backup. Hey, if our army is, like, ten people, then why can't one man be our entire backup reserve? Okay, it's lame. But it's the best plan we've got.
After living thirteen years in the wild, expecting the final stroke to come from any direction at any minute, any time of day, anywhere, it takes every ounce of my concentration not to silently slip away and high-tail it out of there. Considering that, me and Glass find it hard to make conversation.
"You know what we're looking for?" I ask warily after what seems like an eternity of walking in unease through the dusty, broken streets. Translate that to about five minutes.
"Oh, yes." He replies shortly, apparently seeing no need to disclose any further information.
We cross a street. The road is cracked and melted in some places. Signs are blackened and unreadable, dented or just globs of incinerated metal. We stroll down the center of the road, weaving between the remains of cars caught in their escape. Thankfully, the remains of victims are so ancient, they are only white, half-dissolved bones lying here and though. I shudder to think I might be breathing in their ashes. Well, I like to think along the 'might' line.
Another block goes by. An entire building has fallen sideways across the street. Our way is blocked. However, over the years it's caved in in some areas, and I could easily clear the whole thing in one jump under normal conditions. I decide not to attempt it, though, with my wound, and instead follow Glass in clambering painstakingly through the wreckage.
Wires still spark and snap when our feet disturb them. Rotting wooden desks are piled sideways, one on top of the other, thrown across the floor and walls and shattered everywhere. Moldy papers that dissolve at the touch are scattered throughout. One of them flutters up in the breeze made as we cross, and I gently cup my hands beneath it.
All I can make out is the headline;

"OZONE LAYER DISSIPATED- SOLAR FLARES MAY REACH EARTH"

And beneath that;

"Parts of North America and Wester Europe may experience extreme heat and violent storms. It is advised inhabitants of these areas evacuate immediately. The storms ma...."

I drop the paper, wondering if that was shared with the public, or if it even had a chance to before the heat hit.
So that was how it happened. Solar flares and storms. But I remember something my mother mentioned about nuclear something... After all, what else would so dramatically mutate the environment, and the flora and fauna within it?
Another paper is lying on an upturned desk, and I crouch down to read what I can make out.

"NUCLEAR POWER PLANTS SPONTANEOUSLY ERUPT"

"Nuclear plants across the world have suddenly began to react- Already half of America has been reduced to ash and ruin. Officials are evacuating citizens in the affected areas before they are harmed. Environmentalists worry about the wildlife which has been left to fend for itself, but congress declines to grant a fund for a rescue, claiming humans first, beasts last."

Not even gonna comment on that one.
Did we bring it upon ourselves? Suddenly, walking through remains from the time before time began, the apocalypse and the years of devastation that followed, they all seem so real.
I've always just taken it for granted, and gotten on with my life, accepting that it happened lifetimes ago and that we'd gotten over it, and it would never affect me.
We leave the building and emerge into a large square, and I wonder how I never considered how much the end had affected me. But I push dark thoughts aside to look upon more ruin and ash and wreckage.
The square is huge, with one big building in the center, which is still for the most part standing upright, at least unsupported. A big cracked screen, maybe even bigger than Sir Blarg, spans the top.
But what makes me stop and think is that the screen is on.
Actually, it's working, and it's broadcasting a live, moving image of me and Glass, spinning around like idiots below.
How dumb are we?