The putrid stench of the City’s streets very own stew – a concoction of the City’s filth, excretions and secretions, permeates its sodden streets. The day is almost done, and the rain clouds still drizzled unceasingly, though with less enthusiasm. Little, if any of the Denizens of the city will be tempted to be up and about tonight. Three sleeping gang members of the Black Crosses lie by the dying embers of a fire, their possessions replaced, clueless that it was missing in the first place. Downstairs in the lobby of the building, three figures stood on top of the flight of steps leading to the entrance of the building. The remains of the lighting fixtures which adorned the front of the building flickered as they wore their coats and secured their belongings, preparing to brave the City streets. It would be a long night for them, like most nights in the City.

Ethan wore his hood over his head and zipped up his jacket. Marla was helping Rachel put on a pair of woollen gloves, and the scratchy scarf she was knitting. All of them wore gas masks, if not to protect themselves against the toxic smog, at least to ward off some of the evil smell of the rain drenched streets of the City.

Ethan set his mask’s transistor frequency to the matching receiver set he lent Marla.

“Test. Test.”

“Okay I can hear you” Marla’s voice crackled over his headset.

“Let’s move fast and quietly. Stay together. If you and Rachel gets lost, don’t panic, stay in transmission range.”

Marla nodded and held Rachel’s hand tightly.

“If you see anything or anyone, ignore it. No one sane is out now, and we can’t afford to help anyone. Am I clear?” Ethan added, he looked evenly at Marla.

“O-Ok..” Marla’s replied nervously, clutching Rachel’s hand even tighter, the other hand holding a rucksack full of their belongings.

“Our safe house is 7 blocks from here, near the Depot.” said Marla.

“Okay. You lead the way then.” Ethan slung his bag across his shoulder and looked down the steps at the streets. He turned on the starlight scope of his night vision. Calibrating the mask’s lens, the City streets came into being, bathed in a sinister greenish tint. A fine mist hung low over broken pavement, which was covered by a layer of sludgy substance and coagulated rubbish heaps. Dark stains (Blood? Dirt?) covered the walls of the buildings and rubbles.

The viscous admixture sucked and squelched at their boots with every step. It was like moving through a swamp. They tried avoiding the goo-like substance, hopping onto bits and pieces of broken planks, rubbles and thrash piles. It did not really help much, since it covered so much of the streets. Occasionally, the composite stuck so fast that their boots squelched free from one’s feet. They had to pry it loose before continuing their journey. Along the way, they passed through a block of abandoned public housings – a series of shapeless buildings converged around a shattered cobbled square. A series of insane laughter, punctuated by uncontrollable sobbing and sounds of breaking glass from one of the windows made them hasten their pace, however pointless trying may seem in a river of quicksand.

It was an overall frustrating and tiring endeavour. It took them the better part of an hour to reach the halfway point of their destination. A dozen statues of horses used to mark the entrance of the City’s Central Park. Now, barely a handful of them are left strewn on the ground, next to a large crater marked their former companions’ position (before they were blasted into oblivion by a bomb’s blast). A monument to the state of the City. Ethan thought.

“We should take a short break. It’s a pretty open space; we can make an easy getaway if anything turns up.” Ethan said.

“Okay”. Marla said. The girls were breathing heavily, and looked grateful for the brief intermission.

They sat sheltered in one’s of the Central Park’s pavilions, the few remaining structures that remained relatively intact. The rain has stopped completely now. The weather, being what they are in these times, it would be foolish to think that was the end of the rain. The sooner they get to their safe house, the better.

“Meow”

They looked out and saw two glowing blue eyes looking towards the pavilion. A plastic yellow mechanical cat observed the occupants of the pavilion. After a while, it lost interest and stalked away. It prowled around the broken statues of the park, occasionally leaping over craters, and in between debris and statues, before disappearing into the darkness.