Henry ran until his legs gave out. He didn’t know if Jake and Cora were following him, but his calves cramped up and he couldn’t run another inch. He leaned over his knees, breathing in gulps like he was drinking water from the river. He walked like that, bent over, down a short walkway to a house and sat, without ever straightening up, on its porch step.
Henry leaned back on his elbows and looked up at the sky. It matched the ground, the houses, the street, the few trees, and, mostly, the garbage.
Gray.
All of it was gray.
And flat.
Henry heard a rumbling sound. He sat up and looked down the street. Three boys were skateboarding. The boy in the front—a short kid wearing a black t-shirt and black jeans—jumped onto the sidewalk and skated toward the fallen tree. Henry watched him bend his knees, grab the front of his board, and jump the tree. The other two followed him. Then they skated back onto the street, picked up speed, and were gone.
Did they race on their skateboards? Did they have a fourth friend? Where was he?
Henry wondered what their story was.