The Sleeping City

Part 1 The City

CH. 1

A thick cold reached out and grabbed him as he splashed into the water. Submerged he struggled, fighting to find the surfaces as he was swept away. The current carried him from parts unknown to part unknown. He broke the surface and gasped. Cold stale air filled his lungs. He was moving, he could feel it, but he could not see anything. The blackness was overpowering.

He drifted, both in space and in consciousness, only opening his eyes when he heard the voice. His eyes revealed to him a world covered in thick gray mist. He was floating in the water and someone on the shore was calling to him. The shore, no; that was misleading, the banks on either side of him rose sharply. And though they were no more than forty feet away, both sides of the river he was floating in were covered in fog so thick that he could just barely see through. For the most part they seemed to be covered by a tall gray wall, as though someone had built the river to flow in between two streets. But, every now and then stairs would extend down from the street lowering the level of the wall to only a few inches above the river. On one of these lowered sections stood a shadowy shape in the fog, jumping up and down while shouting at him.

He raised his hand to wave and was overcome by how exhausted he was. His arms were stiff, his legs were lead, how long had he been in the water? He did not know. His head dipped under the water and it took all his strength to push himself back up, he broached the surface sputtering. It didn’t last, his legs were stiff and couldn’t kick, his arms were slow and seemed to have no force, he could feel the water rise past his neck, past his chin, up towards his lips. He tried to call out, but instead tasted the cool water. He knew he was dying, drowning, but he was so exhausted, so weak. He slipped silently back under the surface.

The shadow on the shore dove in and swam to him. Grabbed him. Pulled him with strong strokes to the shore and then lifted him bodily out of the water. He was on the land again, the feeling of drifting was gone, though the gray haze remained.

He tried to look at the man who had saved him, but his vision was still blurry. He felt something rumble inside of him and turned sharply to the side and let the bile and water come out of him. Sputtering, he tried to look around. They were on solid ground again, cold steel less than a foot above the water. And on either side of the stairs leading to an upper level, to the street above. The steps were crowded with 20 or so people looking at them. Past them he could make out little due to a heavy silvery fog.

“Are you alright?” The man asked.

“I…think so. There was…” his mind wandered, hazy as his surroundings. “Fire. There was a fire I think. I…fell?” The harder he tried to think the more distant everything seemed. He had been in a building, hadn’t he? And it was on fire. But why?

“Well, I am glad you are alright. But are you sure it was a fire?” The stranger asked pointing towards the river, “I see no fire”

They both looked but could see little through the white blanket of mist. Above them, on the steps, a crowd was asking questions; “What’s going on?” “Why are they wet?” “Where are we?” And so on. While others milled about with unsure looks upon their faces. There seemed to be an air of confusion about. The heavy fog didn’t help much.

He rose, Coughing out the remnant of the water. “Where am I? Who are all of you?” He asked. The crowd, his rescuer among them, were silent.

“Does no one remember anything?” Shouted a woman mid way up the steps.

“I don’t know my name, my own name! Why don’t I know my own name?” Someone else cried out.

“How can none of us remember anything?” Thought the rescued man. His gaze examined the crowd before turning to the man who had pulled him from the water. It occurred to him that he was only sure of who this was by the fact that he was the only other person dripping wet. “Do you know who you are?” He asked his rescuer.

“I…I do not. I can’t remember anything. There was a man, a man in the water.” He paused, staring at the growing puddle of water beneath them. His head snapped up and he looked the other man in the eye; “You, you were in the water so…I… I dove in to get you. To help.” He paused again, “you are wearing a trench coat.” That last statement was said separately, as though part of another conversation, and matter-of-factly. Now it was the rescued man, the trench coat man, turned to look down. He was wearing a trench coat, a faded yellowish brown, like something out of a pulp comic. And his rescuer wasn’t. No, his rescuer was wearing overalls. Like a maintenance man or a gardener.

“So no one here knows who they are?” Asked the woman who had shouted, “including you two?” She directed that last but specifically to the dripping wet men at the bottom of the landing. It occurred to him that his characterization of the woman had been wrong earlier. It had been less a shout and more of an increase of volume that had allowed her booming voice to carry over the crowd. He looked at her and saw that her red hair formed a halo around and above her head and she wore a green bomber jacket. She met his gaze and, after a moment of silence passed between them, turned and walked back up the steps. The whole crowd watched as she went.

“Where are you going?” Cried out the maintenance man as she faded into the mist.

“I want to know where I am,” she called back, “I’m going to find a street sign or a building name.”

“I’m going with you.” The trench coat man stated as he suddenly started to push his way up the stairs before stumbling and having to use the wall to support himself. She turned and looked down at him from the step above, “why?” she asked, genuine curiosity in her voice.

“Why?” he thought, “because everything is wrong. Everything feels wrong. I am lost, just as lost as you. I–”

“Who said I was lost?” she interjected, her voice as sharp as a razor.

“We are all lost,” he insisted, “None of us know anything, we can’t even remember our name. You said as much.”

“I did?” her voice thick with confusion, “I did,” she repeated as the idea percolated and dawned upon her.

“You did,” he continued, “and I was in…I was in the river…because…because… there was a fire.” He spoke slowly, forcing the words out one after another, like a wounded man limping towards help. “I just have so many questions…and I don’t want to stay here alone in the fog.”

She frowned, her face scrunching up as she did so, something about his little speech seemed to bother her. Nevertheless, she stuck out her hand and helped him up. Together they shoulder their way through the crowd, by the time they reached the top the people at the bottom had forgotten that they had ever been there.