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I dipped and zigzagged through the onslaught of stationary traffic, making my way passed the cluster. It was never an easy journey on the highway. It felt like miles and miles of twisted metal stretched on forever. At one point I had to start jumping from rooftop to rooftop since the cars were piled on top of one another.

             
Why the highway
? I could hear Kyle ask. It was an argument I’d heard time and again. It was a shorter route, but far more dangerous. There was a path that traveled downhill from the cliff, a little trail cut into the woods that twisted and turned until it dropped right into the heart of the city just near the
barrier
. That path took much longer, though, and added time to a journey I didn’t want to make in the first place. It didn’t need to be dragged out any longer.

              Jumping down from an overturned, faded blue sedan, I saw that
The Fall
awaited me, a twenty-five foot portion that had crumbled away. The opening was too big to jump across obviously. Instead, someone had pieced together a bridge.

It was only a few pieces of rope, one for the feet, two for the hands, and a whole lot of nerve to cross the thing. The ends for the handles were tied off to huge chunks of cement boulders that had broken off from the bridge. The rope for the feet was attached to rusted metal rods that protruded out of the street. I had forgotten
The Fall
and its rope bridge, as stupid as it was, and dared the idea of backtracking and taking the extra time. This gap in the highway caused several deaths. Too many tried to cross the bridge at once a few months back. Their graves line the asphalt below.

              Taking a step towards the bridge, I causally gave the two hand ropes a tug to test their strength. They were taut and unwavering. Swallowing hard, I promised myself I wouldn’t look down. I focused on the far side and moved out into open space. My feet moved one in front of the other, feeling the rope without having to look at it. It was a slow process.

              A crack of thunder erupted just above me, though the storm was far away. It took my attention off the rope walkway for a second, but it was a second too long. A scream barely left my throat as both my feet slipped off the rope and I plummeted downward.

Chapter 6: Glasses

              Only the instinct to swing my arms up stopped my fall as my right hand found the rope. I dangled over a fifty foot drop, straight onto broken concert.

So much for not looking down.

              I gripped the rope with both hands. Swinging up my left leg, I managed to embrace it and get a firm hold. Blood started rushing to my head, and I was already dizzy from exhaustion. Sleep depravity was keeping me weak. How was I going to get to the other side like this? I risked the idea of falling as it would have been so much easier.

              “You alright buddy?” a shout erupted from the other side of the bridge. I turned and saw someone on the causeway. Several people surrounded the shouter. I was upside down, though, and couldn’t distinguish appearances or identify the voice.

I didn’t say a word, not sure if they’d recognize me or not. There was maybe five of them, though my double vision likely multiplied the figures. The leader was wearing a black jacket that dropped almost to his knees. He wore a pair of sunglasses too. Beyond that, and from this distance, I couldn’t make out any other features.

              “Just hang tight, my man! I’ll get you outta there!” the leader shouted and near immediately took to the bridge. He walked across the ropes with the speed of a man who’d treaded them many times a day. It swayed side to side, seeming likely to give out any second.

              “Whoa...” I moaned. The rope walkway shivered. It was already hard enough to stay latched, and knew I couldn’t dangle like this for long. This man was almost running, throwing the ropes, and me, into havoc.

              “Deep breathes, upside down man. We built this bridge, it’ll hold. You just keep yourself right there,” the man in black instructed as he stopped just above me. He looked roughly the same age as me, though much more rugged. A full beard and several scars covered his face, while the sunglasses hid his eyes. He stood there with an outstretched hand.

“Wait a second…” he said, nearly stunned. “Well, I’ll be damned!”

“Jackson, is that you?” he whispered.

              He knew me, even upside down, but I was getting too dizzy to remember anything about him. I looked back at the others but nothing came to mind. A hand awaited by my face, opened and inviting. I looked back up at him and his smile sought my attention. Even if this was awkward, I couldn’t help but take his hand. If this was a ploy, and he were to let go, only open air and concrete below would stop the fall. But he lifted me back to the walkway as promised.

              “Jackson,” he whispered.

My arms trembled with fatigue, but my mind was working overtime now. Should I know him? Out of the hundreds of people who call this place home, his face wasn’t one I could recall. I had so few friends left, and only knew of the ones that lived close to me.

This man was from Downtown, and that was where everyone learned to hate me. I knew that the hate still lived there. It didn’t just go away. However, it wasn’t detestation that streamed off his tongue, or through that smile.

“It’s been awhile,” he said.

              “It has been,” I replied, trying to sound friendly.

              “Well, let’s get you off this bridge, what do ya say?” He smiled again. Without wasting a moment he took off marching, though he kept turning back to make sure I was steady and upright. “They call me glasses. Don’t suppose you can guess why?” He laughed, turning back, and tilting his sunglasses up and down. “Never had the luxury of knowing my name. Never really cared, though, I suppose. What’s to a name anyway? It’s just sounds that relate us to a formality, right?”

              “I guess so.” We reached the end of the bridge. The others watched on in silence. They didn’t bear grins like Glasses. They held crooked smirks, frowns, crossed arms, and disapproving glares. They weren’t used to people crossing their bridge.

What was my intent? Who was this stranger?
In a city with so few of us left, a stranger wasn’t something you saw every day. Did one of them know me? Would they point me out, and shove me through the gap in the highway?

              “Hard to believe you’re here. Thought maybe you had turned, or worse. Glad to know you hadn’t,” Glasses exclaimed as he set his boots on concrete. He didn’t move out of the way as I reached him, instead he leaned in close and whispered, “You’re Will for now. Eyes on the ground and keep them there.” I followed his advice, clinging close to his side with my head turned down.

              “Look here, folks! Will has had quite an ordeal, and not one of you will speak to him until he’s back to normal! In fact, let’s do this. You three…” Glasses said and pointed at more than half his group. “Run over to my place and get me some clothes for our friend. I dare think he’s pissed himself. Stay together. Watch each other’s backs, and light the flare if you need to.”

There were a few gasps, but without seeing their faces I couldn’t tell how many were disgusted by my supposed urination of my underwear.

“You two will stay with me, but will be my eyes. You know what that means, right?” Glasses asked and nodded, looking for an answer. The other two moved ahead, going to different parts of the area around the highway. The one’s tasked with retrieving clothes sprinted away without a word.

              “That will keep everyone busy for a time,” Glasses said. “So,
Will,
what brings you down to our neck of the woods? Wait, wait I know! You’re here to see IT, aren’t you? Well I’ll be a son-of-a-bitch. I go from thinking you’re dead right back to thinking our hero comes riding in to save the day again.” Glasses chuckled. I tried to sense sarcasm, but found none.

              “Ahhhhhh…” I mumbled, dumbfounded.

              “Hey, it’s okay. I’m just glad you’re all well and good. Oh and how could I forget?” He snapped his fingers. “Olivia! How is that sweet girl doing?” Glasses’ smile widened. He had somehow remembered us, even though I didn’t have a clue who he was. Yet he was able to describe us in brilliant detail, right down to how Olivia had two different shades of blue eyes.

              “Bold as ever,” I remarked. “But safe, out of harm’s way.”

              “Good. No reason to get her involved in all of this. It’s been getting worse down here, you know. More are turning every day. Our food supplies are holding well, and water’s still flowing from that well, but that doesn’t exactly matter if we all turn twenty six anyway.” Glasses turned his face upwards, the sunlight bouncing off his shades.

              “What about the
barrier
…” I cut short, worried about how exactly I would phrase the question. The barrier and the turnings hung on my tongue, but I held back. It felt like eyes were watching and ears was listening, and if the wrong people heard me talk in such a way, then my Will identity might be a bust. But I needed to know why we turn at twenty-six and cross over
the barrier.

              “Hmmmm?” Glasses questioned. He ducked below a beam from an overturned utilities truck that had caught fire on the expressway. The charred remains were only a broken shell. The ruined traffic started to lighten as we drew closer to the city. All the vehicles were pointing away from Downtown, as if driving away from whatever doom lingered in the veins of this metropolis.

Glasses looked back again, and I saw my reflection bounce off those lenses. I shook my head refraining from continuing the conversation.

We had come upon the off-ramp, where the highway flowed towards the main level of the city. There was little rubble to impede our progress towards the town, but those black clouds rumbled ever closer.

              “Well, I suppose we should get to it then?” Glasses whispered. “Let’s get you to that tower, and see what you came all this way for. But first…” Glasses pointed at the two up ahead, his
watchers,
or more likely his lookouts. “We got a tail to lose.”

              “What are you suggesting?” I inquired.

              “Look, I trust them more than I trust myself, but your name is a little synonymous with a bit of filth.” I gave him a look that suggested to turn it around. “Hey, not me, no sir, I don’t believe the rumors. I remember what you did for us, and not what people say you did to us. Look, Jackson, it’s damn good to see you, and honestly I couldn’t be happier to have you back. If anyone can turn around what’s happening down here it’s you. That doesn’t change the fact that people would be out for your blood if they knew you were still alive, though. Hell, they held a public funeral for you when they assumed you had gone the way of the
turning
. It was a mighty party too, believe you me.” Glasses chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. He failed miserably.

              “Turn, it around,” I said, gritting my teeth. I didn’t need to know if my funeral was a good time or not.

              “Okay. Sorry, didn’t mean, uhh. Damn, I’m bad with words. Forget it, forget I said anything.” Glasses attempted a weak smirk, but it was forced.

              “Done.” I sighed. I shouldn’t be so hard on him. He did just save my ass back on the bridge. “So what’s the plan then?”

              “I’m going to keep you out of trouble. That means keeping you out of sight, out of sight out of mind. Weird saying, but it fits, don’t it?” He glanced at me, but must have seen my irritation building. “Okay, on my mark, follow me. Just keep it quick and silent.”

              “Now!” Glasses hissed.

              Before I knew it I was being pulled to the left. My eyes stayed on the
watchers
in front. They didn’t seem to notice our sudden departure, or at least, until we were out of sight. We entered some narrow back alley.  It ran through this block and traveled onto the next. The shadows from the buildings above covered the alley, sheltering our progress as we rushed through the tight corridor.

These structures were made of brick, deep brown in color and in surprisingly good condition. The weather must not have taken too much toll on them, since they were nestled so close together.

              “I know what you’re thinking and don’t you worry. No one lives back this way. We’ll just keep to the shadows, and move you as close as possible to what you’re down here for,” Glasses said as he glided through the back alleys at a decent clip, knowing exactly where to go.

I tried to keep up, but he was in much better shape and quicker on his feet. I couldn’t help but wish I knew him when I’d spent my time down here. Maybe things would have been different. Maybe I wouldn’t be so out of my element, or so unloved in Downtown.

              “So honestly…” Glasses started. His tone switched as he slowed his pace to a crawl before stopping completely. “How has it been? Life, that is.”

              It was an unexpected question. Every day we fought for existence. Even if I could live one day longer I was still approaching my twenty-sixth. In this land, aging meant dying, and at a relatively young age. Instead of getting upset, I remained neutral. I shouldn’t be made at him. It was, after all, just a question.

              “Truthfully, I wish things were different. Who wouldn’t, though?” I asked. It was the nicest way I could put it. To think about everything all at once, the shootings, the hunger, the turnings, and that awful barrier with the clouds and lightning, it all drove me senseless.

              “You and me both, but that’s not what I’m talking about,” Glasses said. He was on edge. That good nature flipped on itself and disappeared. In its stead was a hard grimace.

              “What do you mean?” I asked.

              “I’m talking about the number, twenty-six.” He took those sunglasses off and shot me a look with a pair of deep gray eyes, streaming with intensity. This was nothing I had known before, this guise. “Tell me you know something. Anything.”

              “What?” I asked, immobilized.

              “
The turning
. Tell me you understand it. Tell me you’re close to a cure, or a treatment. Tell me something that I can share with the others. I need to tell them they don’t have to be afraid of tomorrow, that their brothers and sisters aren’t walking into the shade anymore. Tell me you discovered the way to combat the thing that kills more of us than hunger and murder. Just, tell me…”

Glasses trailed off. It wasn’t anger nor sadness. It wasn’t pain and didn’t seem like desperation. The plea coming off his lips wasn’t anything like that, but I couldn’t place it. I didn’t know if he was directing all of these emotions onto me or if he was just at the end of his rope.

“You were the best of us,” Glasses continued. “Are the best us. You kept more alive than you even know, and you’re the only one left who can help us.” His eyes blazed with passion. I could hardly believe this was the same person.

              “I… I’ve… been… I mean…” I stumbled. I couldn’t find my tongue. No one had approached me like this before
,
especially not about
the turning
. Most everyone I knew made it the furthest thing from their mind, but Glasses seemed to have it always there. He’d been hanging onto the belief I was out there somewhere, still alive, and coming up with an enchanted remedy.

              “You don’t have one…” Glasses said. It wasn’t a question. The fire in his soul extinguished just as quickly as it had started. “If you don’t have one, no one does,”