Chapter Two

Chapter Two

The Aftermath – Topside, San Francisco, California

Quinn Karson

 

I cough until I gag. My eyes water and my vision blurs. We walk along the bay in an attempt to avoid the smell that lingers in the city center. Micah says this area is, or used to be, called the Embarcadero.  “See,” he says, pointing toward a pile of ruined concrete and steel. “That’s the ferry terminal.” The smell near the water is definitely better than the smell near the subway station in the city. Every so often the smell of the salt water fills my nostrils, and, if I close my eyes, everything feels normal again. Micah stops next to me., pulling a crumpled map from his backpack. I can’t believe he remembered to grab it. I think to myself; I lament my own lost pack.

“It looks like we’re going the right way,” he says glancing up. His deep set chocolate eyes look frantic, but some where, deep inside of them, I find something remarkable: hope. “That street sign says Washington, I think,” he says pointing to a ruined metal sign hanging by a single string. I squint at it. “Don’t hurt yourself,” he jokes. I scowl at him. “If we just follow this road up and around, we should run right into the Presidio.” He seems pleased, folding up the map and returning it to his pack. cough until I gag. My eyes water and my vision blurs. We walk along the bay in an attempt to avoid the smell that lingers in the city center. Micah says this area is, or used to be, called the Embarcadero.  “See,” he says, pointing toward a pile of ruined concrete and steel. “That’s the ferry terminal.” The smell near the water is definitely better than the smell near the subway station in the city. Every so often the smell of the salt water fills my nostrils, and, if I close my eyes, everything feels normal again. Micah stops next to me., pulling a crumpled map from his backpack. I can’t believe he remembered to grab it. I think to myself; I lament my own lost pack.

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