“Let’s make this quick.”

We follow the street into the city. Dust hangs in the air, itching my skin and eyes. Between the buildings, there is only silence. Even our footsteps sound muffled. I’ve heard this kind of silence once before, when Glacia and I drove outside the Undil Embassy and watched it from afar. Except now there are no distant city lights, or stars in the sky, but a remnant of civilization, abandoned.

Victoria keeps her eyes pointed forward, forcing out the ruins around her, but Glacia and I look at every building we pass. Rust curls and chips the fronts of buildings, and shattered glass adorns almost every street-level window. There’s a restaurant, and a grocery store, and a row of apartments. Cables dangle down, smacking against walls with soft thap, thap, thaps, and rusted, faded plaques adorn most of the buildings. Here’s Shepherdson’s Café, there’s Freshlist Market, Derin’s Complexes, and more. The letters on the signs are forever dark, their sheen lost.

Our feet scrape at splinters of glass that litter the sidewalks. When the wind rushes through the street, the buildings and windows creak and groan, and swirls of dust ripple through the air. I even have to close my eyes until it passes. My feet crunch on shards of glass and torn metal, so Victoria moves us off the sidewalk to avoid the debris—as much as possible, at least.

I look inside one restaurant: a staircase rises to a balcony, above which a cluster of hanging lamps sway on their fraying cords. Tables lay on their sides, trays and chairs scattered and broken. Whatever happened in Ellaciss City, it happened fast.

We turn down a street and Glacia gasps. Cars crowd all four lanes, some are turned over, others face the wrong direction, trapped. Glacia keeps her eyes away from the cars. Mine, however, wander over. Some have long-abandoned suitcases and bags on their seats, but most are empty. I’m thankful the worst thing I’ve seen is a crushed windshield. I don’t know if I could handle seeing a slumped body, someone left to rot in the place where they took their last breath. Uttered their last scream. Saw the face of a loved one before their eyes went dark.

“What is this?” I ask Victoria.

“Traffic.”

“Where?”

“Out.”

I shake my head, confused. “The desert did this?”

“This was the evacuation.”

She refuses to say more.

We continue following the streets. One sidewalk is blocked by a collapsed wall. Fragments of glass layer the ground and we have to walk between cars for several yards. This time I keep my eyes forward.