Max stepped out of the store and froze in the middle of the sidewalk. Where should he go? Everywhere he looked, there were bodies of the dead. Going home wasn’t an option. He pictured his apartment—it would be the coziest place right now—but then he realized how many dead people were likely in the apartments around his. It was a weekday; many of his neighbors would be at work. But what about Oksana, the young stay-at-home mom from across the hall with her little kids? Or Aunt Varya, the disabled retiree from the apartment next door? Where were they now? If his theory was right, they were lying dead in their rooms. And it would be the same throughout the building, on the floors above and below. No. He couldn’t go home. Better to head out of the city. But what awaited him there?
Max turned back into the store. Better to deal with one body in here than to face the hundreds of dead—men, women, adults, and children—scattered everywhere outside. He couldn’t handle looking at them anymore.
His nerves were shot. Weakness overtook his body. Max sat down on a random box of merchandise and buried his face in his hands.
“Think, man, think,” he whispered to himself. “Head out of the city, fine. But where exactly? … Into the woods with a tent, just like you wanted this morning… Stew, a campfire, dreams coming true, damn it all, a weekend to die for… Alright, the woods it is. What do I need for that?” he reasoned further. “A tent, a sleeping bag, water, food, a flashlight (yeah, right, battery-powered, ha-ha)… better go with candles then… Rope, a knife, an axe, matches, some kind of cookware, preferably metal…”
His head started to clear a little, and his thoughts began to take on a more organized flow.
Everything he’d listed for himself could be found at the sporting goods store about a thousand feet from here. The forest outside the city was five to six miles away. Another two miles just to get out of the city limits. Two hours of walking. Max instinctively glanced at the clock on the wall. Of course, it ran on batteries. Ten forty-five, the time of the disaster frozen in place. Max shuddered—every clock would show the same time now (where? In the city? The country? The whole world?).
He peered out the window. Judging by the position of the sun, it was around two in the afternoon. An hour to gather supplies, two hours to travel, and he’d reach the forest by about five. There’d still be time to set up camp before dark. What would happen when night fell? Better not to think about it. He needed to get out of this hell.
The thought of stepping outside and wandering among the dead bodies made him feel even weaker, and he didn’t want to move. Max glanced at the guy behind the counter, as if he could somehow help, then approached the glass door and looked out onto the street with a sense of doom. He pushed away thoughts of what the night in the forest might bring. But what about a night in the city? He placed his hand on the door handle, ready to open it… then pulled it back.
“I can’t,” he said to himself.
Did he have a choice? Either go now or hide and spend the night in a dead city surrounded by dead bodies.
Max groaned through clenched teeth.
“I can’t.”
He had to… Or face a night with the corpses.
No longer groaning, he let out a scream… then yanked the door open and stepped outside.
******************************************************************
An hour and a half later, Max was leaving the city with a fully packed hiking backpack on his shoulders and riding a mountain bike, a duffel bag strapped to the back loaded with essentials. As he crossed the bridge, a distant explosion echoed behind him. Max flinched in surprise but didn’t stop or look back. He’d been expecting something like this. While packing his bag, he’d wondered what would happen to the city next. How were the life support systems holding up? Almost every device relied on electricity in some way. Pumps had stopped pumping, automated systems had ceased controlling machinery… Passing by one of the buildings, Max caught the acrid stench of ethyl mercaptan, the additive used to give odorless natural gas a smell. How many stovetops were still burning in residential buildings? Even if the pumps had stopped maintaining pressure in the pipes, how long would those flames keep going? How many fires would start by evening just from overheated pans and pots left unattended in kitchens? That didn’t even account for industrial sites and their operations.
So, he wasn’t surprised by the explosion. Max pedaled slowly, weaving around traffic jams. Sometimes he had to stop and carry the bike over obstacles when there was no way through.
His mind detached from everything—from the dead city and its people. Now, it all felt like it didn’t concern him. As if some unfortunate misunderstanding had occurred, and with time, everything would sort itself out. He just had to wait it out.
The hardest part was figuring out what to do next. For today, it was clear; the goal was set—get out of the city, set up camp, try to eat and sleep…
But tomorrow?
His brain refused to work in that direction. His brain wanted tomorrow to fix everything, to let him return to the city and resume his normal life.
Once outside the city, Max stopped, got off the bike, and looked back at the skyline.
Sure enough, fires had started in the city. He counted six spots where massive columns of smoke rose into the sky. Max wondered if the fires might spread to the forest. They shouldn’t. Part of the city was separated by the river. Another part by the highway. The flames wouldn’t jump from the city. Unless they came from other towns or villages?
Other places? What was happening in other cities and towns?
A sudden, urgent desire gripped Max to hop back on the bike and pedal another twelve miles to the nearest village. What if nothing had happened there, and the people were alive and well?
But no. Not today. If he found more bodies with bloodied eyes there, it would be too much. And by then, nightfall would be too close.
Tomorrow. That settled the question of what to do next.
And most importantly—until tomorrow, he’d hold on to hope.
Max cast one last farewell glance at the city, mounted his bike, and turned onto the dirt road leading to the forest.