Peter hadn’t put up much of a fight and agreed to hold down camp until they got back. To be safe, Tye told them they might not return until the following day. The town was several miles in the distance and it would take two hours or more to get there, so they might have to hunker down and rest before they came back.
Milly didn’t realize they’d entered the town until Tye put his hand on her shoulder to stop her. They stood between crumbled structures, their roofs gone, everything but the stone components deteriorating to rubble. She tried to picture it before the decay, before the plants had retaken their territory, when some buildings had glass windows and magical electricity, but she couldn’t. To her it was like trying to visualize the Chicago described in sacred text Divergent. She had no frame of reference.
“We need to take wire as we find it,” Tye said. “Copper or aluminum with plastic sheathing could be useful for many things.”
“Can’t see anything. Can I light a torch?”
“No,” Tye said. “Might as well shoot off a bottle-rocket.”
“What?”
“Forget it.”
Nothing moved in the remains of the houses. Steel rebar stuck from decaying concrete, and here and there stone or brick steps led up to nothingness, the structure long gone, but its entrance still standing tall. Human bones lay scattered about like trash and dying weeds protruded from every crack and seam.
“The paint’s gone off everything. Look at this,” Tye said. He walked toward an overgrown pile of metal and pointed to a round black object on the side of the trash pile. “This is a tire. If you walk around the pile, you’ll find three more. This was a car.” All the paint had flecked off and the metal was rusting away. Plastic parts remained identifiable, but in twenty more years the car would be unrecognizable except for the tires which would last for centuries.
Milly had never seen a car, but she understood what it was. Many of the sacred texts featured automobiles.
She stepped in a hole, lost her balance, and fell.
Tye caught her. “It’s always good when you fall but don’t get hurt.”
“Lesson learned with no cost?” Milly said.
“Your mom raised you well,” Tye said.
“You and her worked together and became friendly, right?”
Tye breathed out sharply. “Friends? On the island I got to know her. So I guess Sarah version two and I became friends. I didn’t know Staff Captain Sarah Hendricks well.”
“Why isn’t there more evidence of the gone world? Was it that fragile?” Milly asked. They drifted through the shadows, working toward the center of town.
“Again with this? You learned at Foundation that some substances last longer than others no matter the conditions, but environments affect how things deteriorate. Metals, plastics, other synthetics decay at a much slower rate. Wood, concrete, blacktop, and paper go fast if not maintained in a suitable environment. Then you have steel, which will last if maintained, but fails at an exponential rate if it isn’t. Why aren’t there more things visible here? Because this town we’re walking through was probably falling apart before The Day. Mexico was a poor country.”
“Poor?” She understood what the word meant, but not the context. This land looked bountiful and unspoiled to her.
“In a monetary way. Nothing is permanent. Look here.” Tye veered off the path to one of the old houses. “See that there? Those were cinderblocks. Cheap masonry. They laid those bricks on the ground and used them as a foundation. Nothing anchored this structure. As we go north, you’ll see how we used to build partway in the ground.”
“We. It’s always weird when you say that.”
“It feels weird to say it. It was so long ago sometimes I question if I’m remembering things right. I think maybe you kids aren’t all wrong.”
“What’s that?”
The glow of light crept toward them through the ruins and weeds. “Come on,” Tye said. Milly followed him through the remnants of several structures, or perhaps it had been one large structure. When they came out on the opposite side, they found the source of the light.
The church glowed white in the darkness and torches lit the path to its open front doors. A white picket fence surrounded a manicured yard. Weeds and overgrowth covered everything, but stopped dead at the small fence as if an invisible barrier kept it at bay. Firelight spilled through the church’s entrance, and dappled rays of colored light burst through intact stained glass windows.
“Look there.” Tye pointed.
A turtle symbol was painted on the fence gate, its neck pointing toward the church. “And there,” Milly said. One of the stained-glass windows was decorated and the light streaming through it cast tiny turtles all about the church yard.
Tye opened the gate, and they passed through. As they advanced, the torches went out behind them, snuffed by an unseen hand. The night grew still, the breeze died away, and everything but the church faded into darkness. The wooden steps creaked and moaned, and the sweet scent of lemon wafted from within. Tinkling bells rose from a low rattle to a coordinated melody that lifted Milly’s spirits and made her remember happier times.
A large fire roared at the front of the church, and pews ran off the center aisle to the right and left. Candles of every shape, size, and color cast flickering light all about the nave. The cross above the dais was broken and formed a T, just like the one on the steeple. The skeleton nailed to the broken cross
