This Broken City Sky

Winter was bearing down on the lifeless city with it's full weight. No snow had fallen just yet, but the air was bitter cold, and dry as a bone. At night the temperature dropped, and the wind howled around the tall buildings that littered downtown Belleville. The season just made everything worse. On days when clouds blanketed the sky, the generators couldn't charge, so nothing worked, leaving the eight refugees to their own devices. No sun and no power meant no heat, no lights, and no showers, the latter being the least of everyone's worries. Food was running low; even though they had managed to save it pretty well, their stores would be gone in another month's time. They'd been living in the hotel now, for nearly two.

Though they were mostly safe for the time being, hope began to wane in everyone's mind. The signs seemed to be fruitless, as did their other attempts to search for any survivors. Once in a while, a pair would go up to the roof and scope out the city scape for any sign of someone, anyone, living, maybe in windows, on rooves like they were. But it was in vain; there was no one, and they were alone for nearly three miles in every direction. With their dilapidated conditions and spirits, some in the group began to give in to the weight of their situation. Complacent and tired, they began to loose the will to try and find humor in any situation; smiles were few and far between. Often, they were shared furtively.

But, one morning the sun peeked her bright head out from her seemingly constant mask, and shed some light down on the hotel.

"Alright," Lily muttered, as she looked down at the spaghetti they had scrounged up from the dusty cubboards in the kitchen. They were celebrating; with the power, everyone was showered, caffienated, and in higher spirits, "Who wants sauce..." She checked the bubbling red liquid they had also recovered, and stirred it with a spoon. Everyone had agreed to retreat to the suite that hadn't been broken into, for their little dinner. The sun was beginning to set, but the generators had been running for about an hour, so the room was all lit up, and they even had the TV on (for what it was worth). There were only two channel options; public access that ran on a ten-minute loop, or the same paid program for some special knives that could cut hammers or some such. None of them really cared.

"Frank does. And so does Ray and Gerard." Frank piped up, from his spot on the couch. He was holding a can of Coke, that they'd managed to break out of the vending machines downstairs, and a cigarette was burning off in his fingers.

"And Dylan." Dylan raised her voice only a little; she was feeling a little less jovial than the rest of the group. The days and weeks were running into one for her, and she was sick of living around people who didn't like her all that much. Lily, on the other hand, had managed to keep her little chin up, and was generally optimistic. Dylan sighed, rested her hands on her empty stomach, and looked over at the television screen. Since Lily was busy, she mostly didn't have anyone to talk to; everyone else was engrossed in their own conversations.

"Actually....Come get it yourselves, it'll be easier that way," Lily said, rounding the island so she could face the other seven, "Plates, forks and knives are up here." She finished, and waved a hand toward the stack of plates on the counter, before taking one for herself. The group heaved themselves up and trapsed over to the kitchen, where they began dishing themselves out some of the spaghetti.

"Gotta hand it to you Lil'," Ray said, as he piled the noodles onto his plate, "You sure make something out of nothing." He gave her a quick smile, and she did the same in return. She, then Dylan filed down the line to get their food, as the others gathered in the living room, returning to their places on the big couch.

For a few hours, they ate, and talked, and surprisingly enough, laughed. Things that hadn't been said before were, and they all talked more freely, for some reason. Maybe it was the warmth in the room, or the familiar noise of the TV, or the feeling of safety the suite provided even though just outside the windows, the city was pitch black and deserted. Eventually, after finishing their food, everyone began to tire a little, and quiet down. Even though normally, the infomercial held little to no entertainment, in these circumstances sit was a god-send. Of course, the guys made lots of jokes, and Kat even joined in. Dylan, tired, and tired of having to listen to everyone else have a good time.

"Can I have the master key?" Dylan murmured to Lily, with a nudge of her elbow. Lily stared at her cousin with a quizzical expression, then reached into her coat pocket.

"Where are you going to go?" Lily asked quietly, so no one else could hear. Dylan pushed herself up from the couch roughly before answering

"Gunna go lay down." She muttered in response as she walked briskly toward the entrance of the suite.

"Okay..." She said airly, as she watched Dylan stalk away.

"What's her issue?" Kat nodded off in that direction, and Lily shrugged.

"She's just been off, lately, you know. This whole thing is starting to get to her." Lily stated simply and folded her arms across her chest as she looked down the couch at the blonde. Kat raised her eyebrows, and shrugged, turning her eyes back to the TV screen. Meanwhile, Dylan jogged down the seven flights of stairs, out of breath at the very end. It'd been a while since she had the motivation to exercise, plus there wasn't any power during the day. The quiet hall of the fourth floor soothed Dylan's nerves a little as she walked down to her room. She was growing used to that room, and the way it was starting to feel like home. The bed wasn't as comfortable as the one she had back in New York, but still, it was nice.

Dylan showered first, then pulled on some warm pajamas, because she knew the night would be cold, then crawled into bed, ready for the reprieve of sleep. She turned on the TV, for some noise to break up the silence, and settled down with the covers pulled tightly around her. For a while, maybe half an hour, she lay there with her eyes closed yet hardly ever drifting into the edges of unconsciousness. But still she tried, and tried and tried to fall asleep and still it never came. She felt tired enough.

After a while, she gave up, and heaved herself into a sitting position. She looked around the room haplessly at the scattered clothes, towels, and bits of trash. An acoustic guitar was leaned up against the wall near the window, but Dylan wasn't sure who it belonged to; Frank or Ray. The drapes were pulled together till none of the night seeped into the room, and for that, she was grateful. Having to sleep with the empty night looking in on them gave her a cold feeling that she had to fight off every night when she went to bed. Dylan turned her face away from the covered window, and picked up the book she had found in a derelict suitcase not long ago. It was a book of short stories, but all of them based in California. She didn't like it very much, but it passed the time, so she read it all the same.

She read that fucking book for an hour before a knock jolted her out of the deep concentration she had sunk into. Inhaling deeply, Dylan set the book aside, and pushed aside the covers to get out of bed. The floor was cold against how warm her feet were, so she hopped briskly across the carpet to the door. When she flung it back, she saw Frank standing there, looking off down the hall.

"Just you?" Dylan asked, her eyebrows jutting up in a slightly surprised expression. Frank frowned, pursed his lips, and stepped inside.

"Yeah it's just me, sorry." He retorted, as Dylan shut the door. She sighed, so tired of being snapped at.

"I just meant it...Like...Where everyone else is..." Her eyebrows knit a little. Frank looked over his shoulder, from his place on the edge of his bed. He tugged off his shoes, tossed them away, and pulled his legs onto his bed.

"I know I'm just...y'know..." He sighed as well, and crawled up the length of the bed to the pillows, and lay his head on one. Dylan glanced over at him, her expression still a little hurt, but she simply picked up the book, and picked up where she left off. The TV hummed quietly in the backround, but otherwise the two were silent, Frank's eyes transfixed on the television, and Dylan turning pages every once in a while. To Dylan's shock, it was Frank who broke the uncomfortable silence.

"What is that book about?" He inquired, his eyes flicking up to look at the girl sitting in the bed opposite him. She snapped the book closed, and held it across the gap between their beds.

"California. It's stupid." She stated simply, and stared at Frank. He likened her eyes to a sort of sea color, maybe blue. He stretched out his arm to take the novel from her, and ran his eyes over the back cover, pretending to read it.

"Hm," He replied simply, and handed it back to Dylan, "Wonder what California is like right now.." He mused. Frank often thought of how the rest of the world was coping with this whole disaster thing. He even wondered if the rest of the world was even out there anymore. What life is there outside of the hotel, he thought.

"LA must be fucked." Dylan mumbled as she opened the book to her place. Frank looked up at her again.

"Big cities are probably fucked in general..Manhattan is probably a bloodbath, can you imagine? All those people...Shit." He inhaled deeply, and rubbed his face as Dylan turned her head to him slowly. For a few moments as she stared at Frank, waiting for him to look back, something built in her stomach; a mixture of anger and dispair. Finally Frank's eyes flashed up quickly, long enough for Dylan to catch his gaze.

"I live in Manhattan," She spat, then clenched her jaws together tight. Frank kept his hazel eyes focused on her, his mouth agape just slightly, "Lived." She added with just as much venom as her first statement. Frank sat up slightly, holding his weight on one elbow.

"I didn't...Know that..." He replied lightly, and frowned guiltily at Dylan. She just shook her head, and turned a page of her book. Frank opened and closed his mouth, searching for something to say that would at make up for his foot-in-mouth tendencies, "If it makes you feel any better, I live here," He added, making Dylan return her focus to him, "And I've got someone outside. Or at least I did." With that, he held up his left hand, showing Dylan the silver band around his ring finger. Again, they sat in silence, staring at one another. Dylan shook her head slightly, and raised her eyebrows.

"What?" Frank asked, with a little smirk, "You didn't think we had absolutely NOTHING, in common, did you?"