I stared up at the charred black remains of the building, weak and fragile like a withered plant.
What can’t I remember?
I groaned and curled my knees against my chest, shuffling backwards from the wreckage. I was overwhelmed with frustration. Coming back here was supposed to help me remember, not make it worse, but nothing was triggering in my mind. Was I just stuck with these locked-up memories forever?
Overcome with despair, I whimpered and laid my head down on the concrete. A weed that had grown between the cracks swayed slightly with my movement. It was covered in ash. I closed my eyes.
In the blackness of my mind I saw an orange sky. Pink clouds smeared across the horizon, chased by billowing dark clouds. The image was criss-crossed by thin black shapes – the silhouettes of naked trees, cutting across the sunset sky like claws.
My body tightened. I squirmed, but the image was seared into my mind. Then I saw my grandmother and realized it wasn’t just an image. It was my recurring nightmare, only this time I was wide awake.
The wind roared and whipped snow and ash across my face. The sensation felt too real. I wanted to reach up and touch it.
My grandmother was speaking to me again. I waited patiently for her to finish speaking, although I could never hear what she said, except for one thing.
“Seek the golden bear who glows like the sun.”
My eyes shot open and I gasped like I’d been struck. It wasn’t a nightmare.
It was a memory.
I pushed myself off the concrete and scrambled to my feet. My palms were dirty and sweat dripped down my temples. My chest felt hollow and light, like I could breathe for the first time.
My gaze whipped towards the street where the black cars were lined up. The hairs on the back of my neck shot up and a growl rose in my throat. There was a prickle of familiarity about all of this, and it made darkness form in the pit of my stomach.
My mind was going a million miles an hour. I fiercely pushed back the overwhelming feeling and gritted my teeth, heading for the back of the building. My breath came out in short, thick panting. As I touched a blackened piece of lumber, I noticed my hand was trembling. My whole body felt hot and feverish.
I grunted and stumbled into the collapsed den. I swallowed hard at the sight. The floor was black with soot and crumbled debris. The corner of the room where I used to curl up and sleep was completely gone; that section of the architecture had been totally destroyed. I winced. The place that had been my home for months was gone.
Months. I clutched my head and hissed.Months.I’d been living in this building for months.
But what about before that?
“What am I missing?” I muttered.
I sank to the floor, running my dirty palms through the soot, tracing unintelligible patterns in it. The longer I stared at the floor the angrier I got. With a snarl I punched the floor. The rotting wood shattered and collapsed under my fist, exposing the ground two feet below. A moment later the stinging pain of splinters registered. I hissed and shook my hand.
“You hear that?”
I froze. The voice was coming from outside.
A low grunt responded. “Yeah.”
Panic exploded inside me. Whipping my head around, I saw nowhere to run. I looked down at the hole in the floor. Biting my lip, I kicked another piece of the floor away, making a hole just big enough for me to fit inside. I leapt down and crawled under the far end of the floorboards.
I swallowed thickly. My skin was sticky from soot and sweat, and dusty ash was getting caught in my throat. I resisted the urge to cough.
The floorboards creaked. Dust was irritating my eyes, making them water. I tried to blink it out.
Two sets of footsteps. Heavy. I bit my lip.
“Was this hole here before?”
There was a pause.
“Get that guy out here.”
“Where is he?”
