A Shadow Passed Over the Son
Page 3
Darkness.
Parker opened his eyes as if from a long sleep. His head ached. Pain coursed up and down his neck and spine. He coughed. He tried to sit up, realized he was secured by the wide red straps of the harness. He was still inside the simulator.
An orange glow filled the cockpit around him, dim and dull. The sim’s back-up batteries were nearly drained. But that would’ve taken hours.
Dogs barking.
Men shouting.
Flashing lights. Moving erratically. Blue-white beams lighting up the dust in the air.
Footsteps. Stomping overhead.
Scraping. Dust falling. Debris being cleared.
The chugging and groaning of heavy equipment, the Beep-Beep-Beep drone of front loaders and dump trucks backing up.
Dogs. Closer now.
The sounds all came from up there, somewhere above.
The dead high school guy lay on the canopy, visible in the glow. Blood had pooled around his eyes and in his swollen face. He looked like a smooth, purple plum with two wide, blood-shot eyeballs, staring at nothing.
The barking dogs reached a frenzy. The climax of their excited searching.
Parker considered the dead guy. Who do the dogs smell? Him . . . or me?
Flashlights blasted into the cockpit, blinding blue-white light.
Men all around. Men in dark coats with glowing green stripes, attached to harnesses and ropes. Firefighters. Sweaty, soot-black faces and wide, scared eyes beneath the wide brims of their helmets.
The dead guy was hoisted up. His face squeaked against the outside of the canopy, smearing it with blood.
Flashlights beamed into the cockpit again. A tidal wave of voices, men shouting, dogs yelping. A big yellow dog with floppy ears jumped onto the sim. The dog dug frantically at the outside of the canopy, claws tapping, scratching, scratching the blood.
A whistle. The yellow dog jumped down.
Two firefighters looked into the cockpit.
Behind them, smoke filled the night sky. It was dark outside. Night time.
“What happened?” Parker asked. “What time is it? How long have I been down here? Where are my mom and dad?”
“He’s alive!”
“We got a live one!”
A chorus of cheers, echoing somewhere up there, atop the mountain of rubble.
One of the men leaned closer. “Don’t worry! We’ll get you out. Just gotta shore up some of this mess before it comes down on all of us. This thing saved your life!” His gloved hand patted the sim. “Are you hurt?”
Parker did a mental inventory of his body. Everything hurt. But no bones poked out of his skin. He could move and breathe. That was good. “What happened?”
“There was an attack. They’re saying millions may be dead. But you’re okay?”
Parker nodded.
The man looked up, over his shoulder. “He’s okay! He’s okay! It’s a miracle!”
Parker lay back, his head against the head rest. How could any of this be a miracle?
Chapter 3
A Shadow Passed Over the Son