The wind blew through the windows of the high rise. This was not, obviously, how they designed these things back when they were in use. No, these things were air tight. Had whole systems to move air through them since the wind didn’t blow. The windows had blown out a little while after those systems stopped working. The changes in pressure between inside and outside, or something. Jethro didn’t really get it. Scientific mumbo jumbo that he never had time to learn. Well. He had time to learn it. He had nothing but time, now.
That old Native American woman had said immortality was a curse. Which is why she got him stuck with it after he happened to be present for a massacre. Jethro had never believed her about it being a bad thing, though. Being able to come back from the dead within a few minutes of kicking the bucket was nothing but a good thing, in his book. Healing from grievous wounds in a matter of hours, growing back limbs in days. It was the high life. Who could possibly see that as a bad thing? Well, he supposed it wasn’t exactly perfect. His body didn’t know it was immortal, so he still felt fear, panic, hunger, thirst, and so on. Jethro wasn’t sure if eating and drinking were strictly necessary, but he certainly didn’t deny his hunger and thirst. Eating was great, and so was drinking. Yeah, things were pretty great for a long time. But then the world went to hell. It all happened so quick, Jethro barely registered it. Some kind of sickness that started down in South America. Within a year, Jethro was the only person he knew. He was utterly, and completely, alone.
