She remembered visiting the city of Atlanta a few years before everything fell apart, and though she had been struck by many things the one thing that stuck in her head was how the sky had been tinged orange and brown. It was a smoggy city, perhaps not as bad as Los Angeles or some other Western cities, but it was noticeable. Carol hadn't spent much time in the city itself, as Ed had complained about the trip so much they returned home earlier than planned. She remembered sitting in a park, watching Sophia play, and looking up she saw those colors streaking the sky as though staining it. It was disturbing.
Not so long ago she was remembering how things used to be, talking with Carl about all of the noises they missed. The hums and vibrations that created a continuous background noise to everything in life. They spoke of planes and she remembered the sky and how it had appeared in Atlanta. When they had been at the CDC it had still been streaked with smog just as the buildings had been streaked with soot.
And now, it was different. A lot of things were different. Nothing could remain static any longer, and she knew that better than most. But as they left Grady, after Beth had . . . Carol didn't even want to think it and yet she knew it was just another thing to face, unavoidable no matter the pain. Beth had died. And they came out, crushed and bleeding inside because they had hoped that just this once something good might have happened instead of the bad that they had grown so used to finding. They came out of the hospital and Carol had looked up into the sky over Atlanta and it was blue.
The smog had disappeared and all that was left was brilliant blue sky streaked with white clouds, and for a moment it had been beautiful. It had looked like the blue of Beth's eyes.