Finn knew immediately that he was dreaming, because there was no ash in the sky and the sun shone down from above, unhindered by smoke or clouds. A warm breath of air tugged at his hair and clothes, and birds fluttered overhead as he walked along the sidewalk over the bridge. There were no cars passing by. The road was deserted. Far below the bridge was a gushing river still blue with life, and he leaned his head back and breathed the clean air of his old world. The surrounding hills flourished with trees full of summer leaves, their branches swaying and whispering in the wind.
Up ahead, he spotted a woman standing by the railing and looking down on the river, her bright yellow hair tossed by the breeze. She was wearing a white sweater and a pale blue skirt, her fingers gripping the iron rail as she stared down at the rushing water.
Quinn? he said as he approached. Quinn, what are you doing?
She didn't move. It's too late, she said.
He shook his head. No, Quinn—
Her fingers tightened around the rail. Everyone's gone, she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sounds of the river and the wind.
We're still here.
What's the point, Finn?
We're still here.
He reached out to put a hand on her shoulder, but she shied away, shaking her head. Don't. Please don't.
Quinn—
His words were cut off by a loud, eerie moan from the earth, and Finn looked towards the hills to see the trees slowly beginning to topple, their leaves turning grey as they fell.
Quinn, don't do this. You can't leave us. What about Summer?
Summer should never have been born.
But she was, Finn argued, growing desperate. She was born, and it's our job to take care of her.
I can't do this any more.
Towering flames erupted on the hills, releasing black plumes of smoke into the air. They floated on the breeze and blotted out the sun, casting shadows over the bridge. The birds were gone. It was growing colder, and the wind was getting harsher. It whipped at Quinn's hair as she pulled herself up onto the railing.
Quinn, please—
She turned her head to look down at him. If you want to do what's right, she said softly, you should put a bullet in Summer's head.
Don't say that.
It's the easiest way for her to go.
She's not going anywhere. Please come down.
Ash was beginning to clog the air and swirl in eddies along the road. Hairline cracks were spreading across the concrete beneath Finn's feet, and the railings were rusting over. The world was dying.
Quinn, please— Finn begged, holding out his hand. Just step down.
She sighed, gazing down at the river. You know the saddest part about this new life we lead? She turned back to look at him again. It's that hope no longer serves a purpose.
The ground quaked underfoot, and Quinn vanished over the edge.
Finn jerked awake, blinking in the early grey light wafting through the window above him. His side was pressed into the wall and his other arm curled around Summer's shoulders, her head burrowed into his chest. He immediately placed his hand over her heart to make sure she was still breathing, then as he felt her shiver, pulled her closer. He glanced over to the other side of the long-dead fire where Noah was tossing and turning in his sleep, and was suddenly very grateful that he and Summer were not alone. Somehow, for all of Summer's life, they had managed to stay close to people they knew and trusted, and Finn was only too aware of how lucky that was. He briefly wondered what had happened to his mother, and drew a sigh that quickly faded into a hacking cough.
Daddy? Are you okay?
I'm fine, Summer, he said, coughing once more. Sorry I woke you.
It's okay.
You want some breakfast?
Yeah.
Finn got up and restarted the fire, burning pieces of rafters that had fallen from the ceiling a long time ago. Summer wrapped her arms around her knees and looked around the cavernous room. What is this place? she asked.
See that cross up there? That means it's a church.
Summer frowned at the unfamiliar word. A church?
Yeah, Finn said as he opened a package of stale biscuits. People used to come here to talk to God.
Who's God?
He…he's like a really close friend. He helps you when you're down and tries to keep you on the right path.
Are we on the right path?
I hope so.
Finn handed her some biscuits.
Do you ever talk to God? she asked.
Sometimes. If I'm scared or if I think you're going to get hurt.
Does he talk back?
No.
Then why do you talk to him?
Finn shrugged, shifting his position on the cold floor and draping an arm around her. Sometimes it's just nice to feel like there someone watching out for us.
Even if there isn't?
What makes you think that? Of course there is. We're still alive, aren't we?
Summer turned her gaze toward the fire and rested her chin on her arms. I don't believe in God.
After Summer had finished her portion of breakfast, Finn told her to collect more firewood from the rubble strewn across the floor of the church. She returned with an armload of broken planks and a book, which she handed to Finn.
Daddy, what is that?
He frowned at the cover, which was black leather with only a bronzed crossed set in the center. Where'd you find this? he asked.
It was under that broken bench over there. It doesn't look like other books.
It doesn't? Noah asked from where he sat finishing his breakfast.
Finn opened the book to the middle, his eyebrows rising. She's right, he said. It's a book of hymns.
Hymns? Summer asked.
They were special songs that people would sing at church, Finn explained, leafing through the yellowed pages.
What do those lines of dots mean?
Those are music notes – they tell you how high or low to sing.
Summer pointed to a page. Do this one.
Well, it's been a long time since I read music, Summer… I'm not sure I remember how.
Let me see it, Noah said, wiping his mouth of biscuit crumbs and holding out his hand. Summer gave the book to him. Which one did you want?
This one.
Okay, let me think.
Noah frowned in concentration at the progression of notes along the lines printed on the page. It felt strange, remembering something not because he needed to in order to make it to the next day, but just because he wanted to remember. He hadn't needed this skill in so long he wasn't even sure he still had it, but gradually, the dots and lines began to mean something.
I think it goes something like this... He hummed the melody, following the notes as closely as he could. Does that sound nice?
Yeah.
Here, can you read the words?
Summer crouched beside him, leaning against his side so they could look at the book together. A-as I… she started, squinting at the small letters printed below the notes. As I went—
As I went down, that's right, Noah encouraged her.
As I went down in...the...the...
River.
...river...
Noah nodded, smiling. That's good, keep going.
As I went down in the river to... pray, she finished, running her finger over the words. I know this song.
You do?
Yeah, Mommy used to sing it to me.
Noah didn't miss the stiffening in Finn's shoulders at the mention of the girl's mother, but he said nothing on the subject.
Noah, will you sing it? Please?
No, Finn cut in abruptly as he packed their blankets into the supply bags.
But, Daddy—
I'm sorry, Summer, but it's late already. We need to find more food. There's no time for singing. Now, get Noah his crutches please.
Summer pouted as she went to fetch the crutches from where they leaned against the wall, and then helped Noah up to a standing position. As they put out the fire, Finn strapped a supply bag to Noah's back and hefted the other two over his shoulders. Noah and Summer headed out to the street, and Finn, casting a final look over their campsite to make sure they hadn't forgotten anything, picked up the hymnal and quietly slipped it into his bag.
As the sky grew brighter overhead and noon approached, the three of them set out once again to hunt for food and supplies. Summer hugged close to Finn's side, trying not to look at the shrunken corpses lining the streets. Noah limped along a step behind them, keeping his eyes on the ground underfoot so as to not catch his crutches on the cracked pavement. Suddenly, Finn stopped short in his tracks, pushing Summer behind him.
What is it? Noah asked, sensing that something was wrong.
There's someone up ahead.
Finn pulled the pistol out of his belt, holding it at the ready as Noah squinted in the ashen sunlight. A dark silhouette was slowly making its way towards them, limping slightly to one side.
Come on, Finn said, ushering Summer off the street and into the shadow of an abandoned car. Noah quickly hobbled after them, crouching behind the hood. Finn craned his neck over the car's roof, watching the figure as it drew closer. A soft metallic rattling sound reached their ears.
What's that noise, Daddy?
He's pushing a cart.
Who is he?
I don't know. Shh.
I'm scared.
It's okay. Here, go sit with Noah.
Summer did as she was told as Finn pulled back the hammer of the gun, his legs tensing.
What are you gonna do? Noah asked under his breath.
Whatever's necessary.
As the person neared them, Finn saw that it was in fact a woman, her dirty grey hair hanging in matted cords around her wrinkled face. He could tell by the way she moved that she was riddled with arthritis, and she was using the cart mainly for support. Instead of shoes, her feet were bundled in layers upon layers of ratty cloth, and she wore a thick coat with a large hole torn in the shoulder. They could hear her mumbling strings of rambling words as she walked, and it soon became clear that she couldn't have been dangerous if she'd tried. Finn let the hammer of the gun back down, his shoulders relaxing. Still, the three of them stayed hidden, watching her pass with wary eyes.
She's going the wrong way, Summer whispered. Shouldn't we help her, Daddy?
Finn didn't respond.
I'm comin' home, Eli, they heard the woman promise to the wind. I'm comin' home.
A/N: Please, please review. It really is very important to me to get good, constructive feedback on this story in particular, and any reviews would be appreciated.