Brilliance in the Derelict
Lights weren’t uncommon in the Derelict. Though the sun was smog and mists permanently obscured, small lights littered the Derelict. Thousands of little colored lights abounded. But the light that Flint and I beheld at that moment was different. An apt comparison is that of seeing a lighthouse after a candle. Or perhaps the sun after looking at stars. I consider the first analogy to be the best, as the light quite literally became our beacon. It led us, we assumed, out of the Derelict.
Upon seeing the blinding flash, both Flint and I looked at each other. Wordlessly, we walked towards the light. It drew us towards itself, almost inexorably. But after the flash, all that remained was soft and spectral light.
So, Flint and I were invigorated by the glow. It almost seemed to nourish ourselves in a way. For, though we were still as hungry as before, the light gave us the strength to carry on. Even when the light grew faint, it seemed to dance across the previously cold and heartless steel that littered the Derelict. We had hope, and everything felt warmer, more friendly.
But, even with the hope, we couldn’t continue tirelessly. Eventually, we did have to stop. Flint did so reluctantly. I could see the fire in his eyes. Flint had something to work towards, and each moment not moving towards it was a moment wasted.
Still, we did stop.
“Are you ok?” I looked over towards Flint, who was pacing restlessly.
“Yeah. It’s just, I want- I want to be safe. The thing in the water- I don’t want to have to deal with that again.”
“You know that I’ll help you, right? I climbed the skyscraper for you, after all.”
“I guess.” But I could tell that he was unconvinced. There wasn’t a hint of levity in him. He looked a bit like a husk, barely able to shamble towards the light.
“Flint, You have to talk to me.”
He sighed.
“I know you care for me, but you let me down. You were the one who said we should go into here, in this place devoid of life and food and joy. That light,” here he gestured forwards, “Could lead us out, or at least to safety.” Flint looked down morosely. “I know that you care for me; it means a lot, really, it does.”
Here he ventured a small smile. But it saddened me. It was so different from the ones he had before. “Right now, I need to be safe, and you can’t get me that. So, unless you have something to eat, I’d like to get back to walking.”
“Flint-” But I stopped. “Well, how about I gvie you this.” I held out the rusty knife to Flint. “Maybe it’ll keep you safe.”
“Thank you.”
“Well, we don’t have anything, so let’s get going.” I tried to inject as much enthusiasm into my voice as possible.
Flint nodded. So, we both stood back up and continued forward. We pressed on, even when our legs tired and our strength waned. As we walked, the light grew brighter, though it never became as bright as it had when it first flashed. Our eyes shone.
As we continued onward, as the light brightened, we began to hear sounds. We didn’t notice them at first. There was the sound of our footsteps, of wind through steel buildings, and water sloshing around the swamps, of creaking skyscrapers. These were all sounds to which we had become accustomed. But, piercing through those familiar sounds, near the morning of the third day, was the sound of taping. Soon it progressed to the sound of banging, of metal on metal. Flint looked giddy while I put my hand on my gun. Then came the sound of humming electricity and finally the sound of people conversing.
Then we saw what was creating the light. Though the Derelict still stretched as far as the eye could see, the light was a beacon. The surrounding buildings were clean and refurbished. And, though a stranger stood in the doorway, his visage could not be more pleasing had he been in the guise of an old friend.
