Free After the Winter (The Silent Earth, Book 1) by Mark R. Healy

along, the resting place of stylish cafes and boutiques for the rich.   A place undoubtedly abundant with worthless treasures. Ahead, rising from the earth like a gigantic rusted spear was the towering bulk of Ol’ Trembler.
    “There she is,” Max pointed out. “Dead ahead.”
    “I told you, I’m not going close to that thing. I can’t risk it.”
    “I know. A deal’s a deal. We’ll stop when you say ‘stop’.”
    The closer we got, the more impressive it became. That slight tilt only seemed to heighten its mystique, as if it wasn’t just a building, but some massive artwork, an erection to match the great pyramids of Egypt. The hexagonal honeycomb shapes that rippled across the exterior, at a distance a modest scale, now seemed huge and imposing. Architectural marvels. I felt a moment of remorse that it was not long for this world. This amazing monument to man’s technology would soon be rubble.
    I stopped in its shadows, a few hundred metres away. Far enough to take evasive action if the worst happened.
    “Wow,” was all I could say.
    “Beautiful, huh?”
    “Yeah.”
    “I can’t wait to see her go.”
    “It’ll be a shame,” I said solemnly.
    “Pfft,” Max said, his voice full of scorn. “Like hell. One step closer to the end, that’s all it’ll be.”
    “So what was the purpose of it?”
    “Residential.  Lots and lots of rich people lived there.  Restaurants, cafes.  One of those elevated swimming pools with a glass bottom up on about the hundredth floor.  You know the kind.”  He raised his hand and swept it before him as he remembered.  “The outside was completely covered in glass. Like this bluish-greenish honeycomb glass that changed in colour depending on which angle you viewed it from. You could see it from the hills as you drove into the city at night, lit up like a great shimmering sceptre. Course, they never let me in there. I wasn’t near rich or famous enough to get in.”
    I could see streak marks on the rusted steel hexagons where rain had sluiced down for decades. The beauty, the majesty that Max described was long gone, but scale of the place was still breathtaking in a way.
    “So, we’re here,” I said. “We’ve done it. Are you happy now?”
    “We’re not going closer?” He couldn’t hide the disappointment in his voice.
    “Uh, nooo ,” I drawled. “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”
    “Well, let me sit here for a while at least, huh?”
    I sighed. “All right, Max. I can give you that.”
    He crawled down out of the wheelbarrow and made his way over to a bench on the sidewalk. It creaked as he hauled himself up onto it and then he sat back to enjoy his view of Ol’ Trembler.
    I spent the next couple of hours searching the stores along the street, not finding anything much of practical value. At one time the women’s fashion accessories, jewellery, and fine imported coffee would have been worth a small fortune. Now it held no more virtue than the rubble out on the street.
    I turned my attention to locating some decent kindling and gathered it together in a pile on the street near Max. By the time I was done the day was fading, the shadow of Ol’ Trembler stretching out across the landscape like a great arm.
    “Whatcha doin’ there?” Max said.
    “Thought I’d make a campfire. I haven’t done it in a while.”
    “And here’s me without marshmallows.” Max swung down off the bench and crawled over as the first flames licked at the tinder. The evening breeze was beginning to pick up again and he leaned across with his hands outstretched to offer the burgeoning fire some protection.
    “There we go,” I said as it began to crackle. “Beautiful.”
    We had a good healthy fire going by the time darkness set in, and I stretched my hands out to bask in the warmth. The receptors in my synthetic skin could detect heat and cold, just as they were sensitive to pain and injuries. I’d felt the cold of the Winter many times in those bleak