No Destination (Chapter 9: Homely and Lonely)

Despite the grease and overall cloudiness of the windows, the sunlight pierced through the glass to illuminate the airship’s plain insides. As a result, the cylindrical light bulbs hung unlit. The occasional creak was the only reminder that they were there.

The wooden seats were much like the pews of a church, both in appearance and placement. Unsurprisingly, there weren’t many occupants. Abel was the only one his row. The skyline’s usual customers were students, and kids from all schools had probably made plans to hang out with their partners. He lifted his head, stretching his wrist the other way, and swept his gaze over the airship. There were several students in unfamiliar uniforms. The elderly gentleman and his lady sat at the front, on the right side. A man snoring in the back. No one to talk to. Nothing to do.

Abel sighed for what seemed to be the tenth time that ride. Two more stations to go.

Luckily, they were past the tourist spots. That meant few passengers getting on and off each time. The flat, sprawling stores had long since been replaced with towering apartments and dour, cubical houses built on top of each other. That, along with the hills, made it so that the skyline no longer flew above the structures.

Dangerous? Maybe so. But those cramped compartments were the only way to house Siren’s ever-increasing population, and flying any higher might interfere with commercial airlines.

Time dragged on. At the next station, the couple at the front and all the students got off. Abel saw the ticket-master poke his head out the door, presumably checking for potential passengers, before pulling a lever to slam them shut. Several minutes later, the airship drifted to a stop at Abel’s destination. Shuffling off the hard seat and to the front exit, he shimmied down the ladder and jumped to the ground on the second-to-last rung.

His feet met dirt. The cobblestone discontinued a while after leaving the city’s center. He slipped into one of the many alleyways between the stacked buildings and trudged along the shadowed trail. No one really used the main streets here, unless you had a ground vehicle. Cutting straight through the swath of apartments led Abel to a small plaza, where he took a right turn into a slightly wider alley.

Unfortunately, the left wall belonged to the local workshop, which seemed to be in the middle of something. The narrow window a foot above Abel’s head was wide open, releasing sweat and oil that had been brewing inside to the world. He regulated his breathing to shallow breaths through his mouth. However, the heat and clanking noises could not be blocked. That must have been one huge dent they were beating out.

Abel ran the rest of the alley, eager to get out. He nearly tripped over a protruding rock in the darkness, but didn’t let that nor the upcoming stairs slow him down. Taking the steps two at a time, the path soon led to a steel fence. Abel pressed himself against the wall to slide past its broken edges, and found himself in a much wider space. It opened to another street, but there was no reason to go any further when his destination lied in the rusty door to his right.

Slamming his shoulder against it, the door creaked open. Abel took care to close it fully.

Inside was a musty, barren space featuring a gray staircase that spiraled out of sight. Abel scaled the metal steps, hand on the railing, until he reached the third floor—floor being used in the loosest sense, as all it really was was a door imbedded into the wall and a platform leading to it. Directly above the door handle was a number panel. 1-6-7-9-3-2-5. He pulled the handle up and pushed the door. It clicked open.

Unsurprisingly, but still disappointingly, the kitchen was dark. The flimsy table had nothing on top. Kicking the door close, Abel flicked on the lights. A hum, and the apartment was lit with a yellowish light.

“Home, sweet home,” he murmured. Their kitchen was just the table, a couple stools, a thin counter, a rustic sink, and an ice box pressed against the wall. Behind the table was the T-shaped hallway leading to the two bedrooms and bathroom. It wasn’t anything amazing, but far from bad. And it was home.

That didn’t change the fact that it was stuffy and cramped, though. Walking over to the sink, Abel snatched a tin cup off of the ice box and tugged down the handle for cold water. A gurgle, and a stream spewed from the hooked pipe. Once the liquid reached the brim, Abel shut off the flow and lapped at the contents.

Warm. Lovely. He drank it anyway. In fact, he drank two cups.

Then, he collapsed into one of the stools and slumped over the table. Since there was nothing to knock off, Abel let himself sprawl over the circular surface, cheek pressed against the delightful coolness. It was sucked away soon enough, and the boy was left to his sweaty misery.

“I should make dinner,” he said aloud, like it would motivate him to get up. He didn’t move. “Mother’ll be hungry if she gets home,” he added. That did the trick.

Pushing himself off of the table, he pulled the lid off the ice box. Not a whole lot there. A tune starting up in his throat, Abel threw two respectable sandwiches together.

Abel grabbed the copper bowl he usually used for covering dinner up, and placed it over one sandwich. The other, he took from himself. He left the covered sandwich on the counter and meandered into the hallway, taking large bites out of his food. He hoped there was enough light to finish that library book. It was to be returned by tomorrow, after all.