Cerberi

Seventy feet above the ground, with the frigid wind whipping my hair across my face, I peered out at our city. The buildings on the outskirts were run-down from the war and the lack of use. They were towering structures that pierced the sky, but they were crumbling. Natural vegetation, plants unaffected by Zervium, had taken hold and refused to let go. Vines choked shady walls and weeds clung to their foundation. Tree branches poked through where windows had been shattered and grass jutted up from unattended cracks in the pavement. It truly was a sight to behold, nature mingling with industrialization. The way the sun reflected off the windows and danced across green leaves, or the steady thrum of rain hitting metal and bouncing down to feed the hungry plants below. The Council saw no need to repair them until our population had grown enough that we would require the extra space. So until then, we enjoyed the strange masterpiece being painted before our eyes.

Centered in the middle of the chaos was the inhabited portion of our city, consisting of repaired houses, shops, and buildings. A warm light was being emitted from various homes, enveloping the tiny area in a dome of yellow. Even through the thick veil of rain, I could see it. It was like a beacon of hope in desolation, a lighthouse shining for distraught ships. From my vantage point, I saw small black specks where the early-risers bustled to work, oblivious to our plight on the edge of town. A wonderful river ran along the edge of the city, though we mainly depended on rain for drinking water. We couldn't trust what entered the town from beyond our gates.

The ominous gray wall stood in the distance, built from concrete and steel supports, but even that barely kept the creatures out. The animals brought in Zervium on their fur and skin. They rubbed up against the barricade, effectively depositing the element and allowing it to erode through. Salem was bombed during the war, just about 50 miles away, and that's where they got it from. We were only narrowly out of the blast radius, with roughly a meager 20 miles separating us from the toxic zone that contained the deadly element.

Zervium was essentially only fatal to humans if we inhaled it. We could be around the mutants and not get infected so long as we didn't bury our faces in their flanks and breathe deeply. Believe me, none of us had the desire to, anyway. Our scientists and engineers created a unique gas mask that filtered out the toxic fumes. We used them whenever we had to dispose of creatures' carcasses or make a rare run to a neighboring city.

Our walls only encased a quarter of Portland. We had a section of the town, a section of the hillsides, and a section of the river. Other than that, everything was overrun. Beyond the wall, buildings collapsed and all sorts of nature took over. I would often awaken to a tremor quaking the ground when a skyscraper collapsed in a heap of rusted metal and broken glass. The land past our farms was dangerous. It was a jungle, wild and untamed. Mutants lurked, waiting to feast on our flesh. Natural plants mingled with Zervium infected ones in a tangled mass of overgrown vegetation. Our greatest nightmares waited for us past the gate.

Plants and animals were no longer confined to their specific niches. With their Zervium-riddled blood, they could travel out of their typical geographies and make their way into different climates. Though it was pretty rare, we'd still be amazed when we stumbled across a creature typically confined to the tropics or the arctic.

Now, standing in one of the fifteen watchtowers with the rhythmic patter of rain against the tin roof, I stared out, drinking in the sights before me. If everything weren't trying to kill us, it would have a been a pretty amazing view.

Initially, we dealt with the mutants from the watchtowers. It didn't take long, though, to realize that we were simply wasting bullets. The creatures were smart, they adapted. They would zigzag and weave so that we couldn't get a direct shot, and by the time we were finally able to take them down, they had already reached the wall. That's when The Council declared that we fight them in close proximity. Some were still opposed to it, but we did as we were instructed.

The watchtowers were bare-bone structures with nothing to protect us from the elements. There weren't even stairs; we scaled the sides, using the overlapping diagonal pieces of metal like rungs to a ladder. At the moment, I was drenched. The howling wind slanted the rain right under the meager protection of the roof.

I glanced down to see that the rain water beaded on my royal blue sleeve was tinged pink, notifying me that I would need to stitch up my arm.

A runner brought us our rations that we hadn't received that morning and everyone ate in silence.

Hours passed with no sign of activity outside the wall. There was nothing to be seen but endless sheets of rain. My small group straightened up when the low blare of a horn sounded, signaling that we were relieved for the day. It varied daily. Sometimes, there would be several attacks, and other times, there would be none. It was just the ebb and flow of things.

I swung my leg over the railing and lowered myself down onto a thin crossbeam. The metal was slick from the rain, making it that much harder to grasp. I grit my teeth at the strain it put on my injured limb, focused on making it down in one piece, but my fingers slipped and I leaned away from the structure dangerously.

A strong hand wrapped around my wrist, pulling my arm forward and pressing my hand firmly against the bar. I grabbed on and bowed forward, resting my weight against the frame. I glanced over into deep blue eyes, offering an appreciative smile that wasn't returned. Heath just looked at me before he continued on toward the bottom. With a sigh, I squinted against the rain and managed to finally get my feet on solid ground.

My boots sunk into the mud as I trekked back toward our apartments, sidling up beside Heath. "Thanks for that," I offered sincerely, casting him a quick glance.

"Just saving your ass again, greenhorn." The slightest of smirks tugged at the corner of his mouth. I frowned. Pursing my lips, I continued on ahead of him, passing the group to head toward my building.

"Cerberi in buildings two and three are free for the day," I heard one of our commanding officers call out, a collective groan coming from the people excluded. I was in two.

I made my way to my apartment, bumping into Anne at our front door.

"Want me to stitch up your arm? I saw you head in here earlier," she smiled as she opened the door. The entryway led directly into a long hallway that had three doors on either side; five were bedrooms and one was a bathroom.

I nodded, "That'd be great. I'm not good with sutures," I winced, chuckling. I walked in ahead of her and stepped into the bathroom, hopping onto the counter and pulling my arm out of my shirt. Anne stepped in a moment later, gathering a few things from the cabinet below the sink. She was tall, but shorter than me, with thick, dark red hair and brown eyes. She was two years my senior and far more friendly than our other roommate.

She glanced up at me as she unwound the gauze from my arm, "So how was your first big fight?"

My brow furrowed, "Not too terrible, I guess. My two partners mainly took care of it. It was a lot to take in all at once," I sighed.

She shrugged, threading a needle, "You'll get used to it. Just don't ever take your eyes off of the threat."

"Yeah, I got an earful for that this morning."

Anne chuckled, dragging a cloth over my skin before she pressed the needle into my flesh. I flinched, watching the point disappear beneath the left side of my wound and surface on the right.

"What's up with that Heath guy? He's kind of a jerk," I muttered, mesmerized by the red stained needle dipping and rising through my skin.

"He's actually a pretty nice guy," she responded, tugging on the thread. "Really!" she laughed when I snorted contemptuously. "He's just kind of grumpy sometimes."

"He's too young to be grumpy."

"He's twenty-two."

"And? He doesn't have to be a dick."

"Some people just deal with being a Cerberus differently." I rolled my eyes at that, but fell silent, watching as she closed the wounds going up my arm. When she finally finished, she leaned back to admire her handiwork. After wiping away any dried blood and bandaging my limb, she smiled at me.

"There you go. You going into town?"

"Yeah, and thanks." She nodded and left for her bedroom.

I sighed and headed for my own cramped room. There were two lonely pieces of furniture: an uncomfortable bed and a small dresser. I changed into a dry pair of jeans and a thick black sweater before I pulled my boots back on.

I hustled back out into the rain, grateful that the downpour had lightened up slightly. I trailed through a few abandoned streets, eying the crumbling buildings before I finally made it to a small marketplace. I glanced around at the available products, wishing I had something to trade. I shrugged it off and crossed the wide street to take cover under the awning of a shop. As I debated how to spend the few free hours I had, my eyes roaming over the people littering the sidewalks, the crowd suddenly parted.

The eighteen judges of The Council were heading toward the meetinghouse on foot, a rare sight. Along with everyone else, I dropped down onto my right knee, muddy water soaking into my jeans. Crossing my right arm over my chest, I rested my hand on my shoulder and bowed my head. It was our symbolic gesture of respect. They were the elites of our society, practically royalty, and we looked up to them. Their laws created order when the rest of our world was in chaos.

I lifted my head after a moment, watching as the group disappeared into the small courthouse that had been specifically built for their meetings. I couldn't help but wonder what new issue they were mulling over as I climbed back to my feet. After a moment, everyone else was back to bustling around.

I made my way to the city library, figuring that I could catch up on some literature with my free time. It was a small building, chocked full with shelf after shelf of novels. I drug my fingers over the spines, finally deciding on One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich by Alexander Solzhenitsyn. I had overheard Anne discussing it with Danielle one day. We'd never gotten to it in my English class. They'd shoved us into training before we'd had a chance to read much of anything other than the "classics". A book hadn't been published since the war; everything was a classic now.

I plucked the book from the shelf and sat down at one of the tiny tables they had tucked away in a corner. I immersed myself in the pages, and it wasn't long before the gray skies outside darkened. Realizing that I would miss curfew if I didn't hurry up, I hastily replaced the book in its place before I jogged out into the street and back toward the Cerberi camp.

I could see the group of buildings in the distance; three housed us and were set off to the side, one was an infirmary, and one was a general meeting house and mess hall. Just as I stepped into the clearing, a firm arm wrapped around my waist and a hand clamped over my mouth. The silent figure yanked me back into the shadow of an abandoned office building. I shoved my elbow into my captor's ribs, receiving a grunt.

"Jesus, you're bony." I faintly recognized that voice.

Heath spun me to face him, gesturing for me to be quiet.

"What the fuck is your problem?" I hissed, shoving against his chest. A grin spread across his mouth like he was an overly ecstatic child on Christmas morning.

"We're going outside the wall."

The incredulous look on my face only caused the smile on his lips to widen.

"Are you nuts?!"

"A little, now come on." He tugged on my wrist but I pulled back.

"No. I don't have a death wish. Sorry."

Heath glanced back at me, rolling his eyes, "You're coming whether you like it or not, greenhorn."

"It's Cassie!" I snapped.

Shrugging, he kept pulling me forward. "A group's waiting for us. There's a few other greenies. Think of it as your initiation."

"Yeah, because that's comforting," I muttered, but his excited grin and the prospect of breaking the rules enticed me. I found myself only halfheartedly resisting him.

He led me to the gate, snatching the gun I had used earlier from the rack and thrusting it into my hands. He slung a weapon over his shoulder and went toward the section of the barricade that had been raised about a foot and a half off the ground. I glanced at him skeptically when he gestured toward the opening, but I dropped down and wriggled through nonetheless.

As I straightened up on the other side, a gas mask was flung at me, and I instinctively reached out and caught it before it could hit me in the face. Heath clapped me on the shoulder as he climbed to his feet from beneath the gate. I turned my eyes to the small group before us to inspect them curiously, wondering if we were all out of our minds. There were seven of us in total.

I lifted my gaze back to the blonde man at my side. He was grinning like an idiot and suddenly I was, too.