Chapter 1

A Chapter by csouthard1s

Skyla Boudreaux

Glass crunched underfoot as I stepped onto the cracked pavement of Kings Avenue. Quartzcrafts had once caused so much traffic it was a miracle anyone could get anywhere, but that had all changed in a single night. Buildings, some standing haphazardly but most reduced to piles of rubble, lined either side of the road. I could make out the looming shadow of the dome in the distance, trapping me within the city of Ridgecrest.

Swallowing heavily, I approached one of the standing houses. Its once-yellow paint had faded to off-white. The shutters hung lopsided, chipped and discolored.

I shifted the coil of rope around my shoulder. My plan was dangerous, after all. I just hoped I wouldn’t have to use it.

With light feet, I stepped onto the front porch. The boards groaned, but none snapped. A lone porch swing rocked back and forth, creaking on its rusty chains as wind tore past�"never a good sign. Combine that with the collapse of the city’s electrical support system, and houses became nothing more than teetering towers of concrete and rebar. But I had to do this.

For years, I had survived on my own as I pleaded with groups to let me join them. The groups called themselves families--after all, their real families were gone. Finally, though, I had found one that would take me in. It was composed entirely of teenagers since no adults had survived. Desperate to prove that I wasn’t deadweight, I had volunteered to make a food run. And I wasn’t about to ruin my only chance at finding a place to belong.

I wrapped my fingers around the rusty doorknob and pushed. The creaking door echoed through the empty house, piercing its tomblike silence. Light spilled through the doorway into a dim hall. A stairway ascended to my right. After exhaling one final time, I released the doorknob and entered.

Cracks ran up the crumbling walls. A rank odor tinged with sickening sweetness filled the air. Gods. I covered my nose with my shirt and did my best not to gag. After a deadly plague had swept through Ridgecrest six years ago, the kingdom’s government had swiftly erected a dome to prevent its spread. a dome had risen suddenly out of the ground to prevent its spread. Given the virus’s destruction in other cities, no one had expected any survivors--let alone that there would be nearly one hundred of us. With no way to tell anyone we were alive, we descended into chaos. No one had thought to remove the corpses of the dead from their homes, let alone bury them. We were all too busy trying to survive on our own.

But I’m not alone anymore, I thought. I just had to convince the family I was worth keeping. My resolve strengthened, I crept onward until the hallway opened up into a larger room. Rebar peeked out of the walls in places the plaster had crumbled. Some of the metal had contorted over time under the weight of the unstable house. The warped structures almost seemed like hands, reaching out to grab me.

I saw something move in the corner of my eye. Heart pounding, I whirled around. “Is someone there?”

The only response was my own echo.

As I looked around, I saw it: a tarnished mirror, propped up against the wall. It must have reflected my movements. Curious, I picked it up and blew off the dust. I was tempted to look at my reflection, but after a moment I decided against it. Years of hunger and restless nights changed people, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to see what I had become.

I turned the mirror over. A small, golden sticker read, Made in Kudor. I had visited the Empire several years ago with my dad; we were on vacation. It was the first and only time I’d left Westbrook.

My dad. I shuddered as I remembered the last time I had seen him. The morning after the plague had struck, I found him dead in bed. He’d been practically unrecognizable. Dried blood had encrusted around his eyes. His face, bloated and disfigured, still haunted me at night.

My throat began to feel scratchy and my hands trembled. Gasping, I glanced around. Forget the food, I had to get out of this place.

The mirror fell from my grip and clattered to the floor. The glass fragmented and skidded across the floor. Gods help me. I held a hand up to my mouth, not even daring to breathe. I listened for the telltale sound of falling bricks.

Silence. I counted to ten before exhaling and delicately stepped over the shards of glass.

The floor popped. I winced, freezing in place.

Please, no.

I’d seen houses collapse before, so the noise was nothing new to me. It sounded like a roar, like all the air was being sucked out of the building. The only thing louder than the house falling around me was my pounding heart.

My mind screamed at me to run, but my feet were glued to the floor. Go, go, go! I forced myself to put one leg in front of the other, until I was sprinting with my arms shielding my neck. Plaster rained down on me. I rushed for the door, but a sound like a lightning crack stopped me. Dust flew everywhere and I coughed violently, trying to wave it away.

The dust cleared, and I cursed. Rubble had fallen and blocked the doorway.

My eyes darted to the stairwell and then the window above. I had to reach the top of the steps. Shatter the window and escape.

I leapt past beams and ducked debris. Finally, I reached the buckling steps and bounded up them two at a time. They moaned and buckled. Behind me, they collapsed like the rest of the house.

Don’t look down. Don’t look back.

Another deafening crack thundered through the house as a mound of rebar and plaster fell onto the step in front of me. I came to a sudden halt, momentum almost knocking me over.

Suddenly, my feet were no longer planted on a stair. Some part of my stunned brain registered that I was falling. I tumbled to the ground, head thudding violently against the floor. Stars exploded in my vision. It took me a moment to register the searing pain in my back. I’d been impaled. My shriek was drowned out by the crashing house.

Get up.

But my legs and lower abdomen had been pinned down. Cursing, I pressed my lips into a thin line and shoved. Pulled. Twisted. But it wasn’t enough. I was trapped. My heart raced, threatening to burst out of my ribcage. I summoned all my strength to break free once more to no avail.

I remembered the skeptical way the family’s leader looked at me when I volunteered to make the food run. He didn’t think I could do it. But I had promised myself that I would show him I was worth it. I would show the entire family. In order to do that, though, I had to survive. I forced myself to inhale and exhale deeply. My eyes scanned the room for anything useful amidst the dust.

The rope. I still had the rope! If I could anchor it to the outside of the window, I could pull myself out of the rubble.

I uncoiled it from around my shoulder and tied one end to my wrist. I grabbed a nearby wooden board and attached the other end to it. Ignoring the pain stabbing at my back, I gritted my teeth and threw the board. It came up a few feet short of the window and fell to the ground.

As quickly as my shaking arms would let me, I tugged the rope back toward me until my hands wrapped around the coarse wood once more. After exhaling one final time, I threw the board as hard as I could.

Show them you’re good enough.

The wood sailed through the air, and I held my breath. This had to work.

The board pierced the glass and fell against the outside of the house. I jerked the rope taut and pulled, trying to haul myself from the rubble. I shifted slightly, but not enough to break free. I braced myself and tried again.

Boom.

I realized what was happening before I saw it. When I had pulled against the rope the second time, I had yanked the window out of place.

And the rest of the wall with it.

The next few moments seemed to pass in slow-motion. The wall came hurtling toward me. It was going to crush me. If it didn’t kill me immediately, I would suffocate. Slowly and painfully. I held my hands in front of my face, even though I knew it wouldn’t change anything.

I hadn’t been good enough.