unzips the first camera bag and pulls out a lens. “There’s a bag in the closet for the laptop. Unless they trashed that, too.”
It takes a minute to find it, buried under a small heap of blankets and sheets and towels, some ripped to pieces. I slide the laptop inside along with the cables and zip it closed. “Where did you find a dark room in this city?”
“Didn’t. Why?”
I lift the strap over my head, settling it across my body before picking up one of the camera bags. “There’s photo paper all over your living room.”
He grabs the second camera bag and slings it over his good shoulder. “I’ve got a small printer. It’s easier to see how a photo will turn out if you print it. Computer screens can distort things.”
“Oh.” We make our way out of the flat, pausing at the top of the stairs. He refuses my help, clutching the bannister as he clumps down the stairs. The street is eerily quiet — no more sirens, no more shouts. The sky’s cleared enough for the moon to cast its fitful light over the broken buildings, and I stare up at them as we pass, for once not caring who finds me.
The tumbled bricks and splintered wood, glass shards glittering in between, hurt to look at. “This used to be such a beautiful city, and they keep destroying it. You have to wonder if they’re going to give up someday and just let it rot.” It’s not the first time the city’s been split apart by a violence so fierce it rubs out its history. We pass an abandoned church, the doors hanging from their hinges, the façade stripped of anything of value. Nothing’s sacred here anymore. Not even God.
Declan huffs out a breath. “It’s still a beautiful city. You need to look past the destruction.”
I could. But it’s safer, familiar, to sink down, let the gloom wrap itself around me like a warm cloak. Shaking it off, rebuilding the hope inside that I can make this new life work for me is a terrifying prospect. I don’t want to face it without Ryan. That wasn’t the plan.
“How long are you here for?” My brain’s folding in on itself, dragging me to that place where I spend days in bed, unmoving.
“What day is it? I was probably supposed to contact the extraction team a day ago. Or more.”
I smirk. “Extraction team? What is this, SEAL team six?”
His answering laugh blows away the shadows crowding my brain. “I don’t know what they’d call it. That’s what I call them. A highly skilled group of people who are supposed to get me out of a city no one can get into.”
“How
did
you get into the city? All the checkpoints are under heavy guard, and I heard the countryside isn’t much better than the city.”
He’s quiet for a moment, the thunk of his boot echoing off the buildings. “It’s not as bad, but it’s getting there. I was dropped a few miles from a checkpoint and walked in.”
“But that must have taken hours!” I knew it was possible to sneak out of the city on foot; plenty of people had done so already. Every so often I’d start making plans of my own before I remembered I had no money, no passport, and no clue how to go about sneaking into another country and not get tossed out. It’s easier to stay put, even as it chips away at my sanity.
“I needed the pictures.”
He doesn’t say anything after that, and we walk the rest of the way to my flat in silence. Once inside, it’s clear the distance was more than he should have gone, his hair damp with sweat, lips flattened with pain. He fishes the pills out of his pocket, pops two free of the pack.
I stop him before he can swallow. “Go on. I’ll get you some water.” I point through the open bedroom door and follow him inside, scooping up wayward clothing and tossing it in the closet. After filling a glass in the kitchen, I bring it to him,
It takes a minute to find it, buried under a small heap of blankets and sheets and towels, some ripped to pieces. I slide the laptop inside along with the cables and zip it closed. “Where did you find a dark room in this city?”
“Didn’t. Why?”
I lift the strap over my head, settling it across my body before picking up one of the camera bags. “There’s photo paper all over your living room.”
He grabs the second camera bag and slings it over his good shoulder. “I’ve got a small printer. It’s easier to see how a photo will turn out if you print it. Computer screens can distort things.”
“Oh.” We make our way out of the flat, pausing at the top of the stairs. He refuses my help, clutching the bannister as he clumps down the stairs. The street is eerily quiet — no more sirens, no more shouts. The sky’s cleared enough for the moon to cast its fitful light over the broken buildings, and I stare up at them as we pass, for once not caring who finds me.
The tumbled bricks and splintered wood, glass shards glittering in between, hurt to look at. “This used to be such a beautiful city, and they keep destroying it. You have to wonder if they’re going to give up someday and just let it rot.” It’s not the first time the city’s been split apart by a violence so fierce it rubs out its history. We pass an abandoned church, the doors hanging from their hinges, the façade stripped of anything of value. Nothing’s sacred here anymore. Not even God.
Declan huffs out a breath. “It’s still a beautiful city. You need to look past the destruction.”
I could. But it’s safer, familiar, to sink down, let the gloom wrap itself around me like a warm cloak. Shaking it off, rebuilding the hope inside that I can make this new life work for me is a terrifying prospect. I don’t want to face it without Ryan. That wasn’t the plan.
“How long are you here for?” My brain’s folding in on itself, dragging me to that place where I spend days in bed, unmoving.
“What day is it? I was probably supposed to contact the extraction team a day ago. Or more.”
I smirk. “Extraction team? What is this, SEAL team six?”
His answering laugh blows away the shadows crowding my brain. “I don’t know what they’d call it. That’s what I call them. A highly skilled group of people who are supposed to get me out of a city no one can get into.”
“How
did
you get into the city? All the checkpoints are under heavy guard, and I heard the countryside isn’t much better than the city.”
He’s quiet for a moment, the thunk of his boot echoing off the buildings. “It’s not as bad, but it’s getting there. I was dropped a few miles from a checkpoint and walked in.”
“But that must have taken hours!” I knew it was possible to sneak out of the city on foot; plenty of people had done so already. Every so often I’d start making plans of my own before I remembered I had no money, no passport, and no clue how to go about sneaking into another country and not get tossed out. It’s easier to stay put, even as it chips away at my sanity.
“I needed the pictures.”
He doesn’t say anything after that, and we walk the rest of the way to my flat in silence. Once inside, it’s clear the distance was more than he should have gone, his hair damp with sweat, lips flattened with pain. He fishes the pills out of his pocket, pops two free of the pack.
I stop him before he can swallow. “Go on. I’ll get you some water.” I point through the open bedroom door and follow him inside, scooping up wayward clothing and tossing it in the closet. After filling a glass in the kitchen, I bring it to him,
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