Chapter 50

The afternoon sun poured from the sky onto the Manhattan Island as Witticker and Edward cautiously made their way through the ancient city streets. Witticker, having only experienced a fragment of the world in his travels, was pleasantly surprised with the recent lay of the land. The streets here, in comparison to those of the former cities he had seen, were still in working condition and relatively clear of debris and fauna. Very few buildings had given way to the passing of time, but, while still standing, showed clear signs of vacancy. Every window had shed its glass to provide more natural ventilation for the vegetation pushing out towards the sun. Birds flew overheard, darting from building to building, and twittering back and forth in celebration of their ready-made nests in the expansive metal trees.
Witticker and Edward’s travel was made much easier by the smooth walkways and as there was no foot traffic, nor people to make it, they were able to push through the city at a markedly speedy pace. As they walked Witticker played the part of tourist, stopping at every intersection, rapt in wonder at the seemingly endless rows of mammoth buildings and fantastic sights. Abandoned cars lined the roads, rusted through to the frames. Some were left in the midst of traffic, while others had been left parked, waiting for the world of people to return. Every corner produced a new store front with magnificent signs advertising a product forgotten by the modern world. Every street entrance appeared to have been forced in and each store taken for most of its contents, leaving little incentive to explore further than the outer edge for any food or equipment.
As the two travelers drudged through the city Witticker became acutely aware that he would be in a particularly regrettable state if he were ever to find himself alone or lost amidst these crowds of buildings. He turned to ask Edward about the possibility of this very predicament when he noticed that his companion had left his side and climbed atop a rusting heap next to a large metal pole at an intersecting street corner.
“Hey,” yelled Witticker, his voice echoing generously through every hollow space, “what are you doing?”
Edward waved him off and reached up to a thin piece of black metal jutting out from the edge of the large metal pole. He rubbed at the thin scrap with his hand revealing the large letters ‘PAR’ beneath the black film that had covered it. After studying the letters he jumped down from the car and slowly sauntered back towards Witticker.
“Keep your voice down,” hissed Edward, “I was just checking to see that we’re going the right way. Can’t believe those signs have held up as long as they have. Most everything else was taken out of here a long time ago. I guess it just goes to show that a system that can contribute a helpful service still commands a little respect.”
Witticker, though utterly confused by the meaning of the speech, nodded his head in agreement.
“We appear to be on the corner of Park and 50th,” said Edward pointing down each street as he named them.
“Great,” answered Witticker blandly, “What does that mean?”
Edward shot Witticker a sly smile through a furrowed brow.
“Sorry, I rarely travel with anyone. I’ll try to keep it simpler. In other words, we’re on the right road.”
He pointed down one of the large roads.
“Right road to where?”
“Ah,” replied Edward thoughtfully, “I keep forgetting you don’t know. I didn’t tell you before because it’s not exactly…well, if we’d been stopped…or you let it slip…it was just better that you didn’t know so nobody else could know.”
“Sure,” sighed Witticker, resigned to his fate of ignorance.
“We’re going to the only institution, I mean, foundation that survived the Great Decline. In fact, one of the only organized centers of culture still in existence in the Western Hemisphere. The New York Public Library.”
“Oh,” responded Witticker, injecting a hint of interest in his voice as he was sure that it was what Edward had wanted to hear.

*~~*

As the companions continued their trek through the city there was very little difference from sight to sight. Street corners and building fronts began to blend together into a collage of masonry and fauna. Suddenly, as they rounded yet another indistinguishable corner, a building came into view looking much more distinctive than the ones surrounding it.
It began with an open plaza from the street bridging into the majestic stairs. Two granite creatures, very proud and ancient beings, were set upon large stone pedestals flanking the stairway to the building. The stairs led up to three large archways housing three very intact glass windows. Pillars, made smooth by the wind and waters of time, were distributed evenly between each archway. Light glowed attractively from inside the building, luring the eye like a siren call.
“This is it,” said Edward as they approached the foot of the stairs to the massive structure.
“Yeah, I guessed as much.”
“Listen, if you don’t mind, at the door, let me do the talking. This might not be as easy as…”
BOM!
Edward’s voice was drowned out by a thunderous metallic sound coming from end of the street at their rear, perpendicular to the stair entrance. Both men looked towards the sound to see a crowd of strangely dressed individuals standing less than a block away. Each was arrayed in an assortment of decaying rags that hung from their bodies like extra appendages. They stood in hunched stances and held vast assortments of items in their hands ranging from large sticks to metal poles, all of which jutted out in sharp, menacing ends. One of the larger members of the crowd stepped forward holding a large cylinder. He raised a small hammer and slammed it against the cylinder.
BOM!
The sound crashed through the streets in every direction. Witticker jumped back at the sound as it ran through the space around them.
“We need to be very careful,” murmured Edward.
Witticker didn’t answer; his full attention spent on the crowd that had begun to advance from their position.
“Don’t move,” whispered Edward.
The people shifted together as if bound by some invisible chain, walking in similar step and stature. As they drew closer Witticker could see that their physical appearance resembled that of primal beings. Hair long and matted. Skin dark with dirt. Some wore bits of jewelry and others had items, such as cans or bags, hanging from their backs, tied with rope. The drum beater raised his hand and the crowd stopped. He stared at the two strangers, looking at each of them from top to bottom as if trying to figure out what kind of animal he had discovered.
Edward stood completely still, his forehead glistening with fresh droplets of sweat. Witticker fidgeted with stress, visibly shaking with tension. The anxiety ran its way up through his body and prompted his mouth to open and speak, but he was cut off by a guttural shout from the drum beater. The crowd joined their leader and let out a cacophonous yell that rang out in the open plaza. The drum beater began to beat his cylinder wildly, his arm flailing with reckless abandon.
BOM! BOM! BOM!
The native crowd ran at the two men. Upon their abrupt advance Edward grabbed Witticker and leapt up towards the building. Both men bounded up the stairs, past the granite guardians, and were met finally with a wall of doors. The sounds of their pursuers could be heard behind them as they clinked and clattered up the stairs, their metal accoutrements rattling against the stone. Witticker tried the doors and finding them locked pounded the wooden panels desperately. Edward turned back towards the clattering advance behind him. He drew his sword and held it steadily at his side.
Bellows and screeches came up to the foot of the building and suddenly went quiet. Witticker, amazed at the sudden silence, turned to the crowd to see them all frozen, staring at one of their members fallen on the stair, an arrow sticking from his side. The whole group stood motionless, looks of horror painted across the mass of natives. As if pricked with pins the people quickly sprang to life, scanning the building tops around them. The drum beater let out a deep bellow and pointed up to one of the taller buildings looming across the street. Several dark figures stood jumping and screaming from the rooftop, holding their bows high in the sky.
Witticker stood as frozen as his pursuers had just been when he was suddenly pulled backwards into the building. The door which had been locked stood open and Edward was pulling him inside. The two men fled inside the building and the door snapped shut behind them leaving the tribal hunters to their next pursuit.