36 [36] Outskirts

There was a strange, eerie quiet that seemed to hang over Salt Lake City as we approached its outskirts. The once bustling city now lay dormant, skyscrapers standing like silent, empty monoliths reaching up to the sky. The remnants of civilization, cars, billboards, shops, all stood abandoned, a haunting reminder of the world that once was.

Navigating through the abandoned city was easier than I'd imagined, perhaps due to the unsettling lack of any signs of life. The city seemed to have been deserted in a hurry, with the streets littered with abandoned cars, doors left ajar, and traffic lights blinking aimlessly.

"We're heading for Southwest Valley," Cassidy said, breaking the silence that had fallen over us. Her voice was loud in the eerily quiet city. Her eyes remained focused on the road, hands firm on the wheel. She continued, "My buddy Andy lives there. Or at least, he did before all this went down."

"Was he a mechanic or something?" I asked, attempting to keep the conversation going. Somehow, the silence felt more ominous than the sight of the abandoned city.

"Yeah, sort of. His dad owned a car shop, and Andy practically lived there," Cassidy replied, her voice adopting a wistful tone as she spoke about her friend. "He was the type of guy who'd spend all his free time under a car or covered in grease. If there's anyone in this city who's prepared for this mess, it's him."

There was something reassuring about the way Cassidy spoke about Andy. His mechanical skills would certainly be a valuable asset in this new world we were navigating. Not to mention, another human face would be a welcome change.

We continued our journey in relative silence, save for the occasional direction from Cassidy. As we traversed deeper into the city, signs of struggle began to show. Burnt out buildings, shattered windows, barricades, and bullet casings, painting a stark picture of a city that had been embroiled in chaos. Yet, there was no sign of the living, no sign of the undead. Just a ghost city, echoing the lives it once held.

Southwest Valley, Cassidy's designated destination, appeared on the horizon. From a distance, it looked no different than the rest of the city. It was hard to harbor any hope of finding Cassidy's friend here, but for her sake, and for ours, I prayed we would.

As the sun began to set, painting the cityscape in hues of orange and red, we found ourselves outside a run-down car shop, 'Andy's Auto Repairs' emblazoned across the rusted signboard. Whether Andy was still inside or not, we were about to find out.

Q: Do you know how to repair cars?