Chapter 2: Journey Into Town

Gina woke up the next morning, putting on her running gear. It was going to be another hot one. Might as well get out there while it was not overbearingly hot.

She decided to explore the ruins that had once been Ludlear, Ohio. It was a short three-mile run from her parents’ old home. She corrected herself, letting her know that it was now her home at least until she decided what she needed to do with it.

It was quiet enough that she could hear her footsteps echoing as she ran down the gravelly roads, the sounds bouncing off nearby trees and falling back into her ears. The sound comforted her. She became lost in that sound.

Still, music was her soul. She slid her headphones over her ears and ran to the beat of the music, whatever it might bring.

The town had remained almost unchanged since she had last been there many years ago, save for the total lack of people. She wondered when the last resident left the town, when the last time footsteps had echoed amongst the houses.

On Main Street, some of the storefronts almost looked like they could be open, were it not for the overwhelmingly aged merchandise still displayed in the windows. Christmas decorations which had once been a part of the mall’s main display had been moved to a heating and air conditioning distributer – to Gina’s internal delight, the decorations were displayed in the window as she walked past, an elf with a hammer in hand, ready to stroke another nail into the toy boat it was building.

The entire town reminded her of that display: At one time, the town had been full of action; now it had been shut down and was still, poised for action but never again ready to move.

The air was warming and getting stiff again, feeling to her like a large piece of cardboard that had been run over by an iron so many times that the paper was blackened and hot to the touch.

Gina sniffed the air, stopped, furled her brow, and sniffed the air again.

Bacon. The air smelled like bacon.

Cooked bacon.

She sighed, took a swig of her hydration drink, and ate a sports bean before taking off into another run.

Weeds and scrub brushes had taken over the town. Ivy grew over some buildings, covering them like a mother covering their little one for a night’s sleep, but leaving enough exposed just in case the dog wanted to crawl in for comfort.

Once again, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being watched. But whenever she turned and wherever she turned, no matter how sudden, she saw no signs of human or animal life.

At the intersection of Ash and Main, there was now a traffic jam of rusted cars, most so old their tires had gone flat. Some had doors open, inviting anyone who dared to explore their emptiness, while others sat with their doors shut.

Gina wondered why the cars had been abandoned there. She searched her memory for stories about the abandonment of Ludlear, but found nothing in her personal catalogue.

The odor of bacon drifted through the air again, calling at her, letting her know it was still there, inviting her to wherever it came.

That was the problem, you see. The air was still, yet it was becoming stiff. Gina could not tell where the scent came from.

She ran over another block to the old town square but found nothing alive but more scrub brushes and weeds. She retraced her back and followed Ash, going out of town, towards the area where two malls had once stood.

She approached the old bridge spanning the river. It still spanned the river, and it seemed to be in one piece, but it was quite old. At least none of the rusted-out cars sitting on the bridge had fallen through, Gina thought to herself, but what if it was her weight that was just enough to send the entire thing plunging into the river?

She jumped at the sound of the whistle in the distance.

The whistle sounded again, closer. Up ahead, past the bridge, she saw a railroad bridge spanning the road.

A train suddenly broke from the trees surrounding the span, flying into view and over the bridge, whistle blaring. At what, she did not know.

She searched her memory for a railroad bridge spanning the river, but could only remember one in the neighboring town, more than 10 miles away. She was not prepared for that kind of mileage today.

And the scent of bacon grew stronger.

With a heavy, frustrated sigh, Gina ran over the bridge spanning the river, dodging cars, and broken bits of roadway.

The bridge did not give way beneath her feet.

The cars of the train still clattered across the old bridge, every once in a while clattering in a significant crash as the wheels would hit one of the track’s connectors. Eventually, the end of the train flew past, and silence again took over the world, save for the distant cry of the train whistle.

She ran under the railroad bridge, climbing a hill that led to one of the malls. It was empty, the shells of more cars sitting in the parking lot, waiting for their owners who were never to return like faithful, metal puppies. Gina found herself sort of feeling sorry for those mindless hunks of metal, their uses now long gone.

She came to another bridge, this one spanning the highway from which she had arrived only yesterday. It seemed like a lifetime. She sighed at the oldness of that phrase and ran over the span.

Below, cars sped to their destinations, unaware of the emptiness that was above. The exit ramps leading from the highway to Ludlear had orange barrels blocking them, many of which were now lying on their sides, the barriers lying in an uneven pattern. Through the years, she thought, they must have been replaced many times, so often and so automatically that people did it, but had no idea why.