Epilogue
I labored upward, across the cracked concrete to the apex of the collapsing highway overpass. Exhaling through pursed lips, I squinted into the sunrise and gazed across the scorching wasteland to the ruins of Atlanta. The charred remains of her skyscrapers jutted from the horizon like the stiff finger-bones of a corpse in a shallow grave.
"My God," I muttered, awestruck by the sight. The city stood, shrouded in a layer of dust, looming before me. It was as if I'd suddenly found a necropolis…a metropolitan mausoleum hidden amongst winding ancient highways of stone and littered with vehicles of a deceased race of people.
I collapsed clumsily into a sitting position and gazed in awe and wonder. I had been unable to see the city during the night. There were no lights in any windows. There were no fires burning. Now it stood before me, in shades of gray and black. Dust and ashes littered the streets, and cars rose here and there from the rubble, caked in debris. The city was unanimated and completely silent. Billboards leered at me, the remnants of a more pleasant time, their products and faces no longer manufactured or alive.
I peeled the surgical mask and goggles from my face and sighed. It had looked like an eerie movie through the fogged lenses. It was no less pleasant now. My vision clouded as I squinted through tears. They ran down the weathered cracks in my face and fell into my lap, leaving odd specs on my dust-covered pants.
My vision took wings and flew from my towel-wrapped head, over the city, transforming it as it went, into the city I had left after college. I had lived here. I had grown up here. I had played here, gone to school, and attended concerts at the amphitheater. I had taken her trains at night, after sharing anecdotes and kisses with girls who tasted of vivacity and draft beer. I had watched college football games here with friends, in sports bars, our cheers and taunts streaking through cigarette smoke. I had made love here, with women who stood out like goddesses in my young mind, and others who were merely footnotes on the pages. I had read books and studied in Centennial Park. I had been in fights, cried, and attended funerals here. My eyes focused and my dreams ended. None of that mattered or remained anymore. All I could do was cry one more time and stare at that mega-cemetery through wet eyelashes, and imagine my bleached bones in the sun with hers.
I shouldn't be crying. I knew it would be like this. I shouldn't be crying and wasting energy and liquid on a sight I'd seen in my nightmares. My sinuses cleared and I smelled the ash and decay. I wretched a dirge for my home.