by Keith Taylor
He cried out in pain as another sharp rock stabbed into his shoulder. He tumbled onto his back, desperately shielding his head as he was dragged across a rough rocky outcrop. His arms flailed about, reaching vainly for the straps as he was tumbled over and over, and then finally, just as it seemed the chute might carry him back into the air or tumble him over the edge of a cliff, the canopy snagged on a low branch. In a matter of seconds it flipped itself inside out, tangled in the foliage, and Jack rolled to a battered, undignified stop.
Every inch of him felt bruised and broken, but the aches and pains were a small price to pay for the relief of laying on solid ground. He lay still for a moment, just staring up into the sky, breathing deep and digging his fingers into the soil, grasping tufts of dew-soaked grass between his fingers as he waited for the world to stop spinning.
He couldn’t tell how much time passed before he found the presence of mind to hunt for the release and shrug himself out of the harness. It could have been just a few seconds, or minutes could have dragged by, but eventually he managed to free himself of the tangled web of straps and cords. He tossed it all aside, thankful he’d never again have to so much as see another parachute.
Now it finally occurred to him to wonder about Warren. Would he land nearby? He scanned the sky above him, hoping to see a canopy floating towards the ground, but the sky was clear. No plane. No parachute. Even the clouds were drifting back to fill the hole punched by the nuclear blast, seemingly erasing any evidence that it had happened at all.
Jack pulled himself to his feet, testing his legs to make sure he hadn’t caught a sprain during the bumpy landing, but apart from the obvious aches everything seemed to be more or less in working order. He shook out his arms and legs, loosening a little of the stiffness, and he had a moment of panic as he felt his shirt move across a wet patch at his stomach. Was he bleeding?
He pressed his hand gingerly against the patch, expecting to feel a stab of pain and pull it away to find blood on his fingers, but there was nothing. The shirt wasn’t torn, and his hands were clear. It wasn’t until he caught the sharp smell that he figured out what had happened, and he began to laugh.
It was the vodka, his last remaining miniature from the hotel minibar. It had been sitting in his pocket beneath the straps of the chute, but thankfully the material had been thick enough to protect him from the sharp edges. He shrugged his suit jacket from his shoulders and carefully reached into the pocket pull out the shards, tossing them to the grass.
Just yesterday this would have been the end of the world. Stuck in the middle of a field without any alcohol, God knows how far from the nearest bar. He’d have already felt the panic set in. He’d have been trawling his memory of the view on the way down, trying to figure out the direction of the closest town, trying to work out how many hours he’d be dry until he could reach a bar or liquor store. Hell, a few hours ago he’d have been sucking on his jacket to get every last drop of vodka from the broken bottle, but now… now it didn’t seem so bad. Now he felt like he had a higher purpose. Emily needed him, and he was no good to her with a head swimming in alcohol.
He turned his jacket upside down and shook the remaining fragments from his pocket, and along with them came his Baxter Pharmaceuticals ID card. He looked down at the empty smile in the photo, the carefully concealed hangover staring back at him, and he decided to leave the card where it fell. He wouldn’t be going back to work after this. If he made it back to Emily he’d never leave her side again, even if it meant working for minimum wage at Baskin Robbins. There was no way he’d—
A sound drifted across the field, carried on the breeze. A voice, followed by what could be a bark. He couldn’t make out the words, but he was certain it was a man calling out. Warren?
The bark came again, louder this time, and by the time Jack pinpointed its source he could see Boomer bounding through the grass towards him, barking excitedly. Jack began to run in her direction, and as she reached him she ran circles around him before heading back in the direction she’d come, stopping every few seconds to make sure he was following.
“Jack! Help!”
Now he broke into a sprint. Warren sounded close, just a hundred yards or so in the direction of the forest Jack had narrowly avoided, and when he arrived at the tree line it wasn’t difficult to spot him. Warren was hanging from his canopy, the fabric tangled up in the treetops, his feet just a few yards above the ground.
“What happened?” Jack demanded, rushing to a spot beneath Warren.
The old man growled angrily. “God damned chute didn’t open. I had to pull the reserve at the last minute. Came down like a damned drunk elephant.” He reached up and took hold of the lines above his head, holding himself steady. “Look, you gotta catch me, OK? I need to push the quick release, but I’m gonna drop like a sack of potatoes.” He looked down and caught Jack’s expression. “Come on, I only weigh a buck sixty. It’ll be a piece of cake.”
Jack looked doubtful. “Isn’t there some other way? How did Boomer get down?”
“Boomer’s made of solid teak, she jumped down no problem. I’m a little more fragile, know what I’m saying?”
“Isn’t there some way you can… I don’t know, swing over and grab a branch or something?”
Warren shook his head. “I’m in my sixties, Jack. My Tarzan days are behind me. Just cushion the fall, OK? Drop to the ground as soon as I hit you. It could save me a broken ankle.”
Jack sighed and took up position directly beneath Warren, bracing himself for the impact. He knew this would hurt, because if Warren had ever been a hundred sixty pounds it had been quite a few Big Macs in the past. He was one ninety if he weighed an ounce.
“OK, on three,” Warren warned, reaching for a buckle in the center of his harness.
Jack steadied himself as the old man counted down, and when he came falling the impact was even harder than he’d feared. They both went tumbling backwards to the ground in a heap, and Warren’s weight only reminded Jack that his own landing had tenderized every inch of his body. He felt the wind knocked out of him, and when Warren rolled to the side Jack gasped for air with lungs that felt stuffed with razor blades and sandpaper.
It was only when he’d finally caught a breath and the pain began to fade that he noticed Warren was still on the ground, not moving. He was on his side, half curled up, clutching his stomach, and Boomer paced around him with concern.
“You OK?” Jack pulled himself to his feet and walked around him. “Warren?”
The old man finally shook his head, baring his teeth to keep from crying out. When he pulled his hand from beneath his jacket it was glistening with blood.
“Oh, Jesus. What happened?” Jack dropped to his knees and pulled Warren’s jacket open. There was a beer mat sized blood stain seeping through.
Warren waved Jack away, trying to sit up. “Looks like I caught myself a scratch when I hit the trees. Don’t worry about it.”
“A scratch? That’s more than a damned scratch.” Jack pushed him back to the ground and pulled open his shirt. The laceration was at the base of his ribs, four inches across and at least an inch deep. “It’s gonna get infected. We have to get you to a hospital.”
Warren shook his head forcefully. “No! We go looking for a hospital and we might as well just lay down and die right here.” He pointed up at the sky with his free hand. “That was a nuke, Jack, and more’n likely it wasn’t the only one. You think the surgeons are still clocking in?” He looked down at the wound, then swooned back a little. “God damn it, I hate the sight of my own blood.” His face was turning white.
“Warren, you can’t just pretend it didn’t happen. That’s a deep wound, and it won’t clot on its own. If you’re lucky you’ve got a couple of hours before you bleed out.”
“You said you were a doctor,” Warren growled testily. “So fix it.” He looked down once more at the wound, the sides glistening with blood and debris from the forest floor already ground in, and he fell back on his
elbows. “I’m start to feel a little woozy here, Jack” he muttered, his head sinking to the ground.
“Keep your eyes open,” Jack warned, tugging at a sleeve of his jacket to make a bandage. “Don’t fall asleep on me.”
Warren tried to pull himself up, but he barely had the energy to raise his arms. “Gas station about a half mile that way,” he slurred, waving to the south. “Saw it from the air.” He tried to meet Jack’s gaze, but he looked like he was struggling to focus. “Help me up. We can walk it.”
Jack shook his head, tucking the makeshift bandage beneath Warren’s back. “You’re not walking anywhere right now, old timer. Just…” He scanned around the forest, looking for a solution. “Just gimme a minute, I’ll figure something out.” Now the bandage was wrapped around Warren’s belly, and Jack tied it in a loop and cinched it as tight as he dared. Warren gasped with pain, looking down at the blood still seeping through the bandage.
“Oh, God damn it,” he mumbled quietly, his eyes fluttering before they finally rolled back in his head.
΅
CHAPTER NINETEEN
EMERGENCY EXIT
KAREN DIDN'T DARE look in the rear view. She already knew what was happening behind her. She could feel the rumble beneath the car, and she knew in her gut that if she didn’t keep her foot on the gas and her eyes on the road it would soon be happening ahead of her.
The bridge was collapsing piece by piece, tumbling into the bay from its western end. The first few sections had collapsed almost in slow motion, but with every new section that broke away from the structure the strain only grew on what remained.
The collapse was accelerating towards her, moving faster than the car could limp forward. In a few seconds everything she could see would be sinking to the bottom of the bay, including the Corvette.
She knew there was just one chance to survive. A hundred yards ahead the bridge was split in two by Yerba Buena Island, where the roadway cut into the land through a wide tunnel before the second half of the bridge rose from the other side. If they could make it to the safety of the tunnel they might just—
The dash suddenly lit up like a Christmas tree, warning lights flashing everywhere. With a screeching whine the tortured engine finally gave up the ghost, and a torrent of steam burst from the radiator. On the punctured tire it only took a few moments for the Corvette to roll to a juddering, undignified halt.
She knew there was no bringing the car back to life this time, no hope that she could coax it another yard along the bridge. Even if it was possible there just wasn’t enough time. Without another thought Karen kicked open her door, yelling back to Ramos.
“Run!”
There wasn’t time for any more words. There wasn’t time for anything. Behind her the roar of the collapsing bridge filled her world, overshadowing the mushroom cloud that still loomed overhead. As she climbed out of the car the closest of the four suspension towers began to teeter on its foundations, the latticework of steel weaving back and forth as gravity decided in which direction it would fall. If it tipped towards them she knew there would be no hope of survival.
Karen tore her eyes from the tower, reached into the car, grabbed Emily by the hand and physically yanked her over the seat, surprised at her own strength. She didn’t wait for Ramos. She just started to run, dragging her daughter behind her, waiting for the shadow of the tower to race out ahead of her.
It didn’t. With a deafening rending of steel and a rumble that seemed to vibrate the air itself the tower began to fall backwards, away from her back to the west. Despite her panic she felt a moment of relief, but it quickly evaporated when the shock of the collapse reached her feet.
She only managed a few steps before she lost her footing. It felt like she was running on a trampoline, with each step finding the ground a few inches from where it should be. She stumbled, tried to recover, and then stumbled again as the bridge whipped back up towards her. She crashed to the ground, hitting the asphalt chin first with a jarring, dizzying impact.
She was barely aware of the pain, or the blood gushing from her lip where she'd bitten down on it. All she felt was the absence of Emily’s hand in hers as she dragged herself from the ground, and she looked back to see her daughter on the ground behind her, her face a picture of terror.
“Mommy!”
Karen reached back and squeezed Emily’s wrist tight, pulling so hard as she started to run that the little girl barely touched the ground. She knew she was hurting her daughter. Even above the roar of the destruction she could hear Emily yell out in pain, but there wasn’t time for delicacy. She could apologize later.
Ramos was ten steps ahead of them now, widening the gap by the second, but Karen was dragged back by Emily’s weight. She was just too heavy to pull on the unstable surface, and Karen felt every muscle and tendon burn with the effort of keeping the little girl moving faster than she could run.
The tunnel was so close she could almost touch it. Just another few dozen steps and she’d be clear of the bridge and safe inside. Her legs screamed and her lungs heaved, but still she pushed herself forward. Just thirty seconds, she screamed inside her head. Thirty seconds and Emily would be safe.
Her heart sank as she felt the ground shudder, and on either side of her the vertical cables hummed and groaned as the road trembled. Twenty yards ahead of her a crack suddenly tore across the asphalt, a broad scar stretching all the way from one side of the road to the other, and Karen felt her stomach flip over as the ground vanished from beneath her feet. In a pall of dust the hundred yard long section of bridge on which she stood collapsed down onto the deck below. It fell as if it were on a hinge, connected to the upper deck only by a few pieces of steel rebar visible through the crack ahead.
Karen stared hopelessly up at the sloping road. It had been hard enough to run with Emily on level ground, but now she had to drag her uphill as the collapse gained on her, overtook her, threatened to swallow her whole and drag her to the water below. She tried to dig into her energy reserves, but they just weren’t there. She was spent, and twenty yards stretched out to infinity. She knew in her heart she couldn’t make it before the entire bridge fell into the water below.
“Give me the girl!”
Karen barely heard the voice over the roar. The yell sounded like little more than a whisper over the cacophony, but then she felt a hand firmly grip her arm. She looked up with shock and disbelief to find Ramos beside her, panting and red faced, caked in dust.
With one arm he grabbed Emily around the waist and hoisted her over his shoulder, grunting with effort, and on trembling legs he turned back towards the upper deck and climbed as fast as he could.
Karen dragged herself to her knees, forcing herself to crawl forward even though her legs screamed at her to stop. Beneath her she could feel the road was about to give way. It swayed back and forth, trembling, its immense weight supported by nothing but the rending, twisting rebar that groaned in protest at the strain. Even as she inched forward she could see pieces of concrete and asphalt crumble away from the edge, widening the gap between the sections by the second.
She was only a few yards away now. Ramos reached the edge of the crack in the road and threw Emily, tossing her like a sack of potatoes to safety on the other side, and then he gingerly balanced on a length of swaying rebar to join her. As soon as he made it to solid ground he turned back to Karen.
“Come on!” he yelled. “Just a little further!”
He crouched down and held out his hand, reaching across the widening gulf and beckoning her forward, but in the moment Karen crept out onto the foot-thick rebar something caught her eye in the dusty darkness below. Through the crack in the road she could see the lower deck beneath her, still packed with people and cars. Most were fleeing towards the tunnel, running for safety, but directly beneath her a man had been caught by a block of concrete that had broken away from the upper deck as the bridge splintered. It pinned one of his legs from the knee down, and he lay on the ground, his face c
ontorted in agony. Beside him a young woman held his hand, comforting him, and at his feet a half dozen people struggled to free him, pushing at the block with all their strength.
As Karen stepped out onto the rebar she caught the man’s eye. For a moment time seemed to slow as he saw her, climbing far above, and—
And then the road fell. Beneath Karen’s feet the rebar finally abandoned its grip, releasing the vast, hundred yard slab of concrete to the deck below. In an instant the lower deck vanished, obscured by dust, but Karen knew everyone beneath her had been crushed.
As the concrete slipped the rebar bounced back, freed of its weight, and shook Karen off into the abyss. She threw her arms out above her, wildly swinging for anything she might be able to grab, and just as she realized she was about to die she felt her wrist caught in a vise-like grip.
Ramos yelled with pain, his eyes wide and a vein throbbing on his forehead as he threw everything he had into lifting her back to the upper deck. He managed to pull her halfway before his strength gave out, but it was enough for Karen to grab the edge. She didn’t know from where she found the strength, but somehow she managed to pull herself over the lip, collapsing in a heap on firm ground.
She lay panting, crying, barely aware of where she was and what she was doing. Around her the world was collapsing piece by piece, but she wanted nothing more than to rest, to just lay where she was until sleep took her. She was spent. She barely had the energy to keep her eyes open.
It was Emily who finally roused her. The rumble from the blast still shook her to her bones, and far below the waters of the bay crashed and roared as they closed over the debris still tumbling from the remains of the bridge, but Emily’s quiet little voice was enough to reach her, and when it did it turned her blood to ice in her veins.
