YC110.03.14 // Roanoke


“There’s no one here.”

The wind blew through the city streets, howling as it wound its way between buildings and rushed against their steel faces.

“It’s like everyone just disappeared; vanished.” her voice cackled over the radio.

A storm roiled in the distance, tumbling above the mountains that climbed in the distance. The open window in the room of the apartment complex gave a perfect view of where the farmers would work and toil, their machines now sitting idly in half-plowed plots of land.

I lifted a frame off the table. It was odd to find photographs that were still printed rather than projected. There was a girl in the picture, standing with a boy who had his arm wrapped around her shoulders. He was dressed in the Gallente Federation colors, carrying a backpack that contained personal affects.

She was only a year younger than him, and their posture and smiles gave them away as being close siblings, an obvious fondness between them. They both shared the auburn hair they inherited from their mother, but she had the sharp eyes of their father.

“Adainy, have you found anything? I haven’t had a single hit.” came the voice over the radio again.

I hesitated for a moment. “No. Nothing.”

I turned the frame around and unlatched the back cover. I bent back the short wires holding the photograph against the glass and peeled it away. I folded it, and tucked it into my breast pocket.

I tried to make myself forget those faces. It had seemed they had all but disappeared.

I looked out the window one last time. I watched the fields sway, and the storm roll slowly over the city. The wind rushed through the window, scattering loose papers in the room.

“Rendezvous at the western checkpoint in five; we’re heading back.”


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s