I turned a bit and aimed my arm over the railing and up the shaft, illuminating the path up to the roof-access door. I didn't see anyone standing in the way. I doubt it, but maybe there's a way to get to another building from the rooftop. Maybe for once, I can go inside of "The Sandman". Ironic that the first time I step foot into the building right next to mine would be crashing in through the roof.
So, reluctantly, I turned away from the…things…at the bottom of the stairs and ran up, now making the roof my destiny.
So far so good.
I passed the door to the 3rd floor that I cheaply jammed. It was working, but it didn't look like it would work for too much longer. I could see the handle turn more and more as I passed it.
My light-arm was doing a great job now that I have it under control, perhaps mentally. I can think about what direction I want the light to shine and it obeys my thoughts. "STRAIGHT FUCKING AHEAD!" I thought.
The clamoring of my own footsteps against the dingy concrete stairs was soon overshadowed by the rumble of stampeding sounds of 80 or so legs and thousands of bees(?) following quickly behind me, but I was far too scared to lose my pacing if I even glanced over my shoulder. And even if I DID look, I couldn't see anything unless I aimed my new arm-light back down the shaft. Knowing my recent ridiculous luck I would probably turn around and there would be a giant cupcake with wings that knows my name and screams siren noises loud enough to wake the dead.
I kept running. Jesus, how many floors does this god damn place have? I swear this building only has 5 stories. Whatever, I can see the door, and my path is clear.
I was breathing heavier than ever, wheezing almost. The extra weight from the box, though it's not much, coupled with my asthma-like breathing, had me swinging my left arm awkwardly and hunching over, panting, as I climbed the stairs. Good thing I didn't have to run onto the bus and possibly encounter the girl of my dreams. I must have looked like a methed out Quasimoto.
I reached the door and was relieved to find out that, for the first time since this whole mess started, I opened the door with ease.
The sunlight blinded me. The harsh rays of Earth's only natural light source stabbed my sensitive eyes and forced my eyelids to glue themselves together temporarily while the intensity slowly eased its way into my retinas at an accepting speed. The fact that my eyelids are pussies and can never fully stop any light from penetrating came in handy this time, as I needed that little weak filter system right now.
When it was bearable to open them, I slammed the door shut behind me and surveyed the land. I thought it was amazing that THIS MUCH sunlight barrages the building each day, but yet, almost none of it penetrates the building's interior, so every unit in this place looks like an underground bomb shelter. The roof was like any other roof in the city, I guess. Loose gravel blanketing a flat, tarred rooftop. A couple of lightbulb-shaped vents calmly spinning and spewing out a thin layer of bone-colored pollution. A few random giant TV antennas that probably haven't been in working order since the 70's, except to provide a resting spot for the occasional gang of birds. I spotted a ladder on the other end of the roof leading to a platform that housed a broken generator or something, but there was no where to go from there. My apartment building is planted in the middle of a hundred other buildings just like it, varying in height and state of decay. This area that I live in was named Cardboard City decades ago by the people that lived here, because the moisture from the pollution of the nearby factories seeps in here and gets trapped in the alleyways, rotting the foundations and making the buildings seem soggy. There is also always a smell of wet, rotting cardboard. It's a sour smell that stings your nose when it touches it, but deceivingly enough, you get used to it quickly, like the smell of wet dog, or a crowded night at Wal-Mart. A smell that, after a while, is part of you and is only apparent to outsiders who wander in here unknowingly. I always pictured this collection of housing projects, Laundromats, warehouses and abandoned high-rises as the homeless sector of the building society. I imagine that if one of the new hotel buildings from downtown sprouted legs and walked through Cardboard City, that hotel would nonchalantly toss a couple of people (or whatever a society of buildings would use as currency) into the hands of these buildings, out of pity. No one even bothers advertising here anymore either. From where I stand, I can see the largest billboard in Cardboard City, on top of the old theater where I saw "Earthquake" when I first moved here, and pasted on it is a weathered, barely legible ad for Crystal Pepsi, which hasn't been around for 10 years. The billboard actually looks like someone hated it so badly that they physically went up there and tried ripping it down with their bare hands. It's shredded to pieces.
I feverishly looked around, left to right, and saw what I had feared. There was no other easy access to any buildings that I could see. Shit.
The sun must have penetrated my eyes more that I thought, because my head began hurting again. It was pulsing, a little different than it had before, though. The pain felt like it was stretching my muscles backward from behind my eye sockets. And a subtle pain ran constantly up the base of my neck, through the back of my mouth, and out of my nasal passage. I couldn't close my mouth without pain. I hoped that Zombie-jaw wasn't taking over my immune system. I walked about 10 steps out into the middle of the roof, literally spinning around, holding my head, looking for my next move, searching the library in my brain for any kind of creative decision that might help me MacGuyver my way out this. The pulse of the pain inside me was increasing it's tempo, which, when mixed with the sounds of the vents, the birds, the sniffling from my attempt to hold back tears, and the traffic below the building, created a haunting song inside my eardrums, something worthy of the end of the world…