We began with a crew of three, and the disease soon cut us down to two. As we advanced into the cold, dank heart of the plague-ridden city, we tripped over rotting corpses in the streets, desiccated bodies propped up in cars, and even one man who had died holding on to a lamp-post while looking at his watch, and had remained in that position ever since.
Littered highways gave way to empty, forlorn streets. I couldn’t believe this was the same city I had seen bustling in news footage from before the bomb.
We shot disc after disc of video, and we kept beaming it back to HQ. At one time, boss said we had enough, but both of us, after a look at one another, switched our phones off and continued.
We kept sending recordings to HQ, knowing that at any point, we could be frozen in time, with the camera stuck in my comrade’s hand, beaming back footage of a single spot in a dead city, at least till it ran out of batteries.
We met, or perhaps simply came across, a child in one street, riddled with disease sores. Somehow, she wasn’t dead. And she had been hungry for a while now. She had broken off an arm from a nearby corpse and was gnawing on it. She looked at us for a moment, but quickly turned her eyes towards her food again.
We sat down on the pavement next to her, trying to see if she would look at us again, just once.