“Maybe I should have just ignored it,” I whisper to myself as memories return to me. If I had done just that, none of what followed would have happened.
And sixteen young girls would have been sold into sexual slavery.
I close my eyes tightly, tasting bile in my throat as other memories surface.
“You really think you can just turn us in, you stupid little girl? Don’t you know who I am? Don’t you know what kind of power I have? Well, I’m going to show you!”
I bite my lip to bring myself back to the present, but that doesn’t set me at ease. Pulling my legs to my chest and wrapping my arms around them makes my leg throb, but it provides a little comfort anyway. I lean my chin on my knee and try to gather my thoughts.
What the hell happened? It wasn’t an earthquake—I am sure of that. Every explanation that pops into my head sounds like the plot from a late-night movie on the sci-fi channel. I keep thinking about all the apocalypse-themed television shows that have been so popular over the last few years.
Maybe Doctor Who will show up and set it all right.
I tighten my grip around my knees as a light appears up the tunnel. True to his word, Eckhart returns, walking at a quick pace next to the track.
“What did you see?”
“The tunnel has completely collapsed. Whatever hit above it was big. We’ll have to go the other way and hope the passage is clear. We’ll take it slow so your leg doesn’t get too sore. If it gets to be too much, I can carry you.”
“What happened to my shoes?”
“They fell off when I was carrying you, and they’re buried under a ton of rubble now. Luckily, you aren’t.”
A shiver runs down my spine at the thought.
Eckhart has me lead as we walk beside the tracks, and we take a slow pace as I limp along. He keeps the light ahead of us, aiming it downward occasionally as we dodge debris. The next station isn’t far away, and Eckhart boosts me up onto the platform before hauling himself up. There is no one on the platform at all and no sounds to be heard from above.
“It looks like there’s less damage here,” he says as we start up the stairs.
I have to hold tightly to the handrail in order to raise my leg enough to navigate the stairs. It takes way too long, but eventually we emerge from the station onto the dusty sidewalk, and my breath catches in my throat.
Entire buildings are flattened to the ground. What used to be skyscraper office buildings and hotels are completely razed. Cars are crumpled together or just abandoned in the street, and they are covered in a thick layer of grey dust.
There are bodies everywhere: all over the street, in the crosswalks, and up against the buildings. Some of them are in piles, but most are just strewn about around stopped cars and delivery trucks. As I look around, I see no one else standing. Even when I look through a window into a nearby shop, all I see are more bodies.
For half a second, I stare at the corpses, reminded of every zombie movie I have ever seen. I wait for them to rise up and start coming after our brains, but none of them move. I shake my head, trying to clear the ridiculous thoughts from my head.
Are they ridiculous?
“What the hell happened?” My head is spinning. I can’t think straight at all. I can’t even make sense of what I’m seeing.
Eckhart doesn’t answer. He pokes at his radio and phone but must not get any kind of response since he shoves them both back into his jacket pocket. I look at my phone as well, but there’s no signal at all. Eckhart is still looking all around us, taking it all in. I try to do the same though I have no idea what might be going through his head. Then something strikes me.
“They’re all men,” I say.
“I noticed that.”
“Where are the women?” I whisper.
Eckhart doesn’t answer. He steps up and checks the body closest to us, turning it over. There’s blood all over the man’s face, and his eyes stare blankly into the sky as he’s rolled over.
“There were children here before,” I say softly. “I remember one boy with his mother back at the hotel. There had to have been children here, too.”
“I know.”
Everything hits me all at once.
All these men are dead.