Nayeli could hear her boots echoing as she strode forward in the dark. There was the occasional crunch of gravel or slight splash of water as she made her way through the bleakest part of the city. She could hear muttering in the distance and as she turned the corner around a long-abandoned building, random small fires came into view.

Some shadows stayed hunkered over, warming themselves over the fires or slumped against crumbling walls. Some quickly looked in her direction at the sound of her stride entering their forgotten place, while a few scattered through holes in the walls to who-knows-where.

Nayeli paused, feet planted shoulder-width apart, and placed her hands on her hips. She slowly looked around from shadow to shadow. She had never been to their little corner of the city. Now that she was here, she saw mostly broken people, the forgotten.

She let her hands fall loosely to her sides and moved forward slowly. Any eyes that had looked her direction now turned away. Her attention turned from the shadows to the walls reflecting the light of the flickering fires. She stopped. Spray paint. But not the typical decorative, expletive or territorial kind. Gangs did not come here.

Large, red symbols had been painted with blank space intentionally left between each one. She didn’t recognize most of them. But one she did. Her hair stood on end. She slowly started toward it and stretched out her right hand. Before reaching the wall, a tingling sensation started in her finger tips.

There was the sound of scraping metal and a scream. Nayeli spun, while simultaneously moving into a crouched position with hands ready. Silence. In the light of the trembling flames, Nayeli blinked in disbelief.

The people were gone.

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