I had better get cracking on this one!
Rochester was like every other town going through Reclamation in the United States: slightly smoky, and faintly smelling of ash. At least it had been long enough for the corpses to fully skeletonize before they ended up on the mass pyres. I know, I know: you would think that my kind would like the reek of rotting flesh, but not really. Blood goes bad, even for us, very quickly, and our sense of smell is a double-edged sword that way. Which is still no excuse for blood-pits, but then the first generation of vampires usually didn’t bother with excuses for their behavior.
Sax was a dutiful guide and/or spy; she pointed out what local landmarks had survived the capture of the city by vampires, the liberation of the cities from vampires, and the imposition of a relentless grid pattern on Rochester’s streets and blocks. More of the old city survived than I expected, in fact. People these days generally prefer concrete security to mere comfort in their architecture, but here they seemed more willing to salvage what parts of their past that they could.
Which was fine. Uninteresting to me, but fine. Why not try to preserve some of the pre-vampire world? Minus the nasty parts, mind you.
But I only had interested eyes for the ruins.