After struggling to get it to focus, he clicked the button to take the picture. At the last second it decided to focus on the fog and snapped the photo.
Sighing, John looked at the photo he took. Fog. Wonderful. The more he stared at it though, the more it looked like there was a shape in the fog. He blinked and shut the camera off, resolving to examine it on his laptop later.
******
He made his way off the bridge and into the shopping district. Despite looking like a heavily trafficked area, there was no one in sight. None of the stores on the block were open. John knew power was back because the streetlights had been turned on. So someone was doing their job.
He knew the quickest way to Marcus’ store was through Crichton Street, but as he approached the intersection with Koontz Street, he noticed a gaping hole in the road. He peered over the edge, but the fog made it impossible to see any sort of bottom. He knew the storm was bad, but to think that lightning could have caused this was unbelievable.
Maybe there were tremors in this part of town?
When he looked up again he saw that the pavement was intact near the General Store, so he just had to find a way over there now.
He turned down Koontz Street, passing the barred entrance to the hospital. John paused to admire the establishment that had once been so respected. It was easily the best hospital in the city, which is until the head doctor got involved in a nasty drug scandal.
Suddenly a lamp flickered inside the courtyard. It stayed lit for a moment before winking out of existence. A second later the light across from it lit up. John stared at it. The place hadn’t been used in years. The only thing that surprised him was that the city hadn’t cut power to it yet.
Moving on past the hospital, he turned the corner on to Canyon Street and was welcomed by a wall of skin-colored cloth. Confused, he saw that it spanned the entire length of the road. There were hazard signs lying on the ground near it too. Assuming it was there to keep people away from the construction, he turned back, getting slightly frustrated.
John turned back on Koontz and noticed the pharmacy. Wondering if he could find a back door to go through, he jogged over to the door and pulled on the knob a bit. The door budged slightly. An idea popped into his head. He took out his wallet and slipped a credit card under the lock, wedged it a bit, and then lifted. The door clicked and he was inside.
The place was deserted of course, so John just strode through. He was looking for a door that led through the back. Maybe the place where they took and off loaded deliveries would work?
He finally made his way around the corner and found the door he was looking for. This one, if anything, would lead into the back. Unfortunately for John, it was locked via a keypad. Naturally… Now he had to find the code. There were only a few places it could be kept.
John paced around somewhat aimlessly before he spotted the manager’s office. There could be worse places to check first.
The room was an utter mess. File cabinets were knocked over; papers were everywhere. The computer had been smashed and desk turned over. They just couldn’t make it easy could they? Sighing, he started rummaging through the files on the ground, looking for something that would have the code written down on it. His only hope was that it wouldn’t be on the computer. Otherwise he’d be stuck here for a while.
About five minutes into his search it dawned on him that he was searching for a needle in a haystack. This was pointless. He sat down, looking aimlessly around the room.
There were posters, a picture or two of the family. One of the pictures was a portrait that hung behind the chair. An older man with a round face and balding head sat against a regal looking backdrop. John could only assume that it was the manager. He smirked at the idea of the guy thinking his job here was so important that he had a portrait of himself made.
John stood up to get a closer look. He hadn’t seen it in the dark, but as he got closer he noticed that the guy’s eyes were crossed out in red. Whoever had done it clearly didn’t like this guy. John made a face and turned back to the room. He saw that the answering machine was blinking red. He pressed the button.
“You have one new message,” said the automated voice. “Recorded five, eight, two-thousand nine.” Beep!
“Hey! It’s me! Yeah I remembered your birthday this time,” the message began. The voice sounded oddly like his, but just different enough you could think it was someone else.
“I mean, how could I forget? It’s the big four-oh! Anyways, your gift is in the mail, you should get it in time for the party, see you soon!” Click.
John’s lips perked up. Could it really be that easy? He moved over to the picture of the parents, looking closely at the father. He was smiling proudly next to his son at graduation.