The Living

by Matt De La Peña

  The audio kept cutting in and out, but Shy was able to make out some of the information as they cut to footage of other devastated sections of San Francisco.

  It hadn’t been just one earthquake but several, leveling the entire coast of California and Washington and Oregon and Vancouver, and they were already estimating over a million deaths.

  There had been four major quakes, the two most devastating centered just outside Palm Springs and along the Cascadia Subduction Zone off the coast of Washington State. The most powerful offshore quake had struck just west of Morro Bay, which Shy knew was in California. What he didn’t know was how far out into the ocean “offshore” was.

  Shy was so stunned by what he was seeing and hearing his whole body started shaking.

  The picture cut out for several seconds, and when it came back they were showing aerial footage of Riverside, where a huge chasm had opened up along the 91 Freeway, massive fires burning on both sides, but there were no fire trucks on the scene, the red-eyed reporter explained, because all the firehouses within a hundred-mile radius had been taken out by the earthquake. And then a shot of downtown Los Angeles, where only a few buildings still stood and everywhere small fires burned and the Santa Monica Pier had collapsed into the ocean and the famous Ferris wheel had snapped in half and lay crushed on its side, people trapped underneath, and the beach stretched out incredibly far now, the tide so low it didn’t even look real. Shy remembered seeing footage of a beach in Thailand that had looked like that just before it was hit by a tsunami. Did that mean they should expect a tsunami?

  Shy’s legs grew so weak he had to squat down and hold on to the railing.

  The Hollywood sign had missing letters and those that remained were in flames, and the 405 Freeway was full of gaping holes, people stranded on concrete islands, waving for help from the tops of cars, and hundreds of yachts from the marina were beached and lying useless on their sides.

  It was definitely the “Big One.”

  What Shy had been hearing about ever since he was a little kid. The crowd inside the theater, realizing the same thing maybe, grew so hysterical it was no longer possible for Shy to make out any of the audio, but he could still see.

  The picture cut out for a few seconds, and when it came back it was an aerial shot of a huge black smoke cloud smothering all of Orange County, and in the gaps of the smoke you couldn’t see houses or buildings but flames. A shot labeled “Seattle” showed the Space Needle in pieces in front of leveled downtown buildings, fires raging up and down every street, and the famous marketplace had been ripped from its foundation and heaved into Elliott Bay.

  Shy’s throat closed up completely when the Mexican border flashed onto the screen, a stretch just east of the ocean that he didn’t recognize right away because there was no longer a physical border, there was only fire and rubble and a few tiny dots that were people wandering aimlessly, and border patrol trucks abandoned with their doors still open. And then they cut to a part of San Diego just north of Otay Mesa engulfed in flames, Shy’s heart pounding and his body shaking, and then the picture cut out again and this time it didn’t come back.

  The entire theater was in a frenzy.

  People shouting and crying and holding each other.

  Shy glanced down at the stage, searching for Carmen, but she wasn’t there anymore.

  He looked all around, finally spotting the back of her head as she hurried toward the theater exit. He motioned to Kevin that he’d be back and then he took off after her.

  20

  Caught in the Ship Spotlight

  Shy raced down the stairs and into the hallway, his mind flooded with all the awful things he’d just seen. Fallen buildings and fires and dead bodies. He had no idea how to process any of it.

  He stopped in the hall, spun around searching for Carmen. It was all that seemed to matter now. Just find Carmen. Make sure she’s okay.

  He shouted her name.

  Nothing in return but the sound of the storm and the movement of the ship.

  Then he spotted the glass doors sliding closed on the other end of the hall. Doors that were supposed to be locked because of the storm. And only crew members knew the code that opened them.

  He took off in that direction, punched in the code and hurried through the doors himself, back out into the storm.

  “Carmen!” he shouted over crackling thunder.

  The rain was lighter now, but the wind was the strongest it had been all night. He had to lean into it to get all the way out onto the deck. He moved cautiously around the covered pool and Jacuzzi, eyes darting every which way, the destruction he’d just seen still stuck in his brain. And Otay Mesa. His family.

  He climbed up onto the stage, moved through the empty outdoor café, searched behind every bar and busser station, every doorway, sprinted up and down every stairwell.

  But there was no sign of Carmen anywhere.

  He needed to get back to his group of passengers in the theater. It wasn’t right to leave Kevin in charge of everyone.

  An awful thought crept into Shy’s head, and he hurried to the ship railing and peered over at the ocean below. It was even rougher now. Choppy whitecaps and aimless head-high swells that crashed into the side of the ship from every angle. Streaks of lightning flashing from above.

  Carmen wouldn’t jump, though, he promised himself. Even if she knew her entire family was gone. She wouldn’t do that.

  As Shy pushed away from the railing, a different voice came over the PA system:

  “Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. I need every passenger and crew member to remain in their muster station, sitting down, with their life jacket securely fastened. We will be encountering extremely rough seas ahead. I repeat, this is your captain speaking. All passengers and crew members must be seated with their life jackets securely fastened. We are working to regain satellite contact and get more information, but our immediate concern is for your safety.”

  Shy continued around the deck, looking for Carmen and trying to decide what the captain meant by “rough seas.”

  On the other side of the deck Shy found Paolo and several emergency crew members prepping the lifeboats. Paolo turned to Shy, shouted: “Why are you out here? You need to be inside with your group of passengers! Get back to the theater!”

  “How come you’re doing the lifeboats?” Shy asked.

  “Standard emergency procedures! Now go!”

  Shy backed away, watching the emergency crew climbing in and out of the boats. Near the glass doors he bumped into someone and spun around.

  Vlad. “You shouldn’t be out here!” he yelled.

  “Just tell me why they’re doing the lifeboats,” Shy said.

  Vlad looked toward Paolo and his crew, then turned back to Shy. “The problem is our location!” he shouted over the storm. “We’re too close to the Hidden Islands! The water is very shallow!”

  “What does that mean?” Shy asked.

  “And this wind!” Vlad shouted. “They’re worried how the ocean will react!”

  Vlad looked back at Paolo again, then pulled Shy down the ship a ways, just outside the sight line of the emergency crew. He clicked on a high-powered spotlight and shined the beam on the raging ocean surface. “Watch the sea life!”

  At first Shy only saw furious whitecaps and waves, but then a heavy swell rolled past and in the light he spotted a pod of dolphins racing past the ship, in the direction of the wind.

  “They’re trying to get away from something!” Vlad shouted. “Don’t you get it? It’s likely we’ll encounter a tsunami!”

  The word was a punch in Shy’s stomach.

  But the scared look in Vlad’s eyes was even worse. It told Shy the ship was in serious danger.

  Just then they heard the deep revving of the massive engines, and the ship slowly started moving again—not away from whatever the dolphins were fleeing, but toward it.

  Vlad’s eyes grew even bigger as he stared into the wind. “Oh my God.�
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  “What?” Shy shouted.

  He looked again, but didn’t see anything.

  “They’re trying to make it over!” Vlad shut off the spotlight, spun around and started toward the glass doors.

  “Everyone inside!” Shy heard Paolo shouting. “Now! Let’s go!”

  Shy followed Vlad, looking over his shoulder at all the emergency crew members leaping down from the lifeboats, racing across the deck toward the doors.

  Shy’s last thought before ducking back into the ship with everyone else was of Carmen and how he still hadn’t found her.

  21

  A Wall of Water

  When Shy made it back to the Normandie Theater and his group of passengers, he found everybody seated except for Kevin, who was standing in front of a window. Shy made a beeline to the railing and scanned the lower theater for Carmen, but she wasn’t there either, so he hurried up to Kevin, saying: “There’s gonna be a tsunami.” He looked over his shoulder, making sure none of the passengers had heard him.

  Kevin stared back at him wide-eyed and pointed out the window.

  Shy saw it now.

  The slight rise in the distance.

  It was subtle and far away, but the ship was moving directly toward it.

  “What if we don’t make it?” Kevin said. He looked terrified.

  Shy turned to the crowded theater seats, thinking for the first time that he might die out here, in the middle of the ocean. His heart climbed into his throat, and he felt like he was about to gag or faint. Dying had never crossed his mind in a real way before. Not like this.

  A pack of passengers were now gathered at the balcony railing, and Kevin was moving toward them and shouting: “Sit down, please! Everyone needs to be sitting down!”

  Shy hurried to his group, making sure they were all secured in their life jackets, and he double-checked his own jacket; then he sat himself in one of the theater chairs and gripped the armrests and closed his eyes and told himself they’d be okay, they’d be okay, they’d be okay, the ship was huge, the bottom indestructible like he’d told his grandma. All they had to do was sit in their muster stations like the captain said, because the captain had probably seen it all and knew what he was doing.

  Shy clasped his hands together as if to pray, but he didn’t know how to pray because he never went to his grandma’s church, and he was making shit up when he told her the bottom was eighteen feet thick and made of pure steel, he had no idea how thick it was, or what it was made of, and what if this was his punishment for lying or for not going to church?

  Shy was up again, moving through the balcony seats to check the rise on the ocean through one of the windows.

  It reached higher now.

  And it was closer to the ship.

  And they were charging right at it.

  He heard voices over his shoulder and turned around. Scattered passengers were now gathered at the window behind him. They were at every window. All of them pointing at the rise and holding each other and panicking. Kevin was shouting for them to get back to their seats, but nobody was listening.

  Shy tried shouting, too, but all the screaming drowned him out, so he went to the railing to look for Carmen again, his heart slamming inside his chest, his breaths too fast, because they were only seconds away from living or dying. He understood this. And what if Carmen was outside somewhere? What if she didn’t know what was coming?

  He circled his group of passengers again, pleading for everyone to sit down.

  Some did, but most of them still crowded the windows trying to get one last look, and Shy shoved his way to the window where Kevin stood and peered outside.

  He froze.

  A massive wall of water, almost twice the height of the ship and climbing still, and coming directly at them. It was clear they had no chance of making it over, but the ship continued plunging forward.

  Everyone at the windows was screaming, even men, and Shy realized he was screaming, too, and a heavyset middle-aged man slumped to the ground holding his chest, and Shy’s entire body started to tingle and he lost all strength in his arms and legs and had to hold on to the window to stay standing as he stared at the cresting wave—this beyond all his understanding except it was the end of everything, and no person could change this fact, and no God, and the wave was directly in front of them now, and all Shy could see through the window was the roaring wall of ocean water.

  He turned to run just as it slammed into the ship and all the small windows exploded with glass and water, and the floor shot straight up, and he found himself in the air—and in his slow-motion flight Shy saw bodies thrown from chairs, bodies crashing into other bodies, into walls, bodies toppling over the theater railing, falling onto the stage, onto chairs, onto the backs of other passengers, the ship alarm once again blaring in Shy’s ears, and the spray of cold ocean salt water in his nose and mouth and eyes, blinding him, and then he was somehow slammed headfirst into a chandelier and was lost.…

  22

  Gaps in Consciousness

  Shy came to in front of the open balcony door as the ship was slowly starting to right itself. Fallen passengers lay all around him, battered and twisted, faces frozen in shock or facedown, ocean water raining down on all of them from a gaping hole in the theater ceiling, and everything smelled of brine and seaweed.

  He looked down at himself, saw that he was covered in blood and searched in a panic for where he was hurt—then he saw the woman lying next to him, her throat pierced by a thick shard of glass. She was choking on her own blood, coughing, her wild eyes staring directly at him as she vomited more blood into his lap.

  Then her eyes slowly emptied out and her head slumped to the side, and when Shy went to reach for her, he was lost.

  He came to in fits and starts after that.

  At first everything he saw was frozen, like a photograph. Not a person moved and rain hovered in the air above him in sparkling droplets, and there was no sound other than the deafening roar of his own heart.

  He saw a limp pile of bodies facedown in a pool of pink ocean water, and he saw a man holding a woman’s bloodied face in his hands and crying, and he saw Kevin’s body in front of the railing, an arc of thick blood spewing rhythmically from his forehead, and he saw a small girl standing against the far wall in her dinner dress and life jacket, eyes squeezed shut, hands reaching for some imagined person.

  He turned back to Kevin, telling himself he had to do something to stop the blood, and he crawled over to Kevin’s still body, shouting his name, but he couldn’t hear his own voice. Shy ripped off his life jacket and his overshirt, tore it in half and tied it around Kevin’s head like a tourniquet. He pulled tight and then refastened his life jacket and shook Kevin’s shoulders, shouting: “Wake up! Kevin!”

  But he still couldn’t hear his own voice.

  Couldn’t hear anything.

  And Kevin wasn’t waking up.

  Shy kept shaking Kevin and yelling so hard that all the blood rushed to his head and he was lost.

  He came to with ocean water pouring down onto his face, and him gulping for air, swallowing salt water and sand and gagging, until he rolled away coughing and vomited.

  He was on the theater stage somehow with no recollection of getting there. And no Kevin. All around Shy were lifeless bodies submerged in a foot of water, drowning if they weren’t already drowned, theater seats ripped from their foundation, floating, the roof half caved in and the air thick with smoke and salt and mist, and the man in front of him was looking down at his bare thigh where a thick ragged bone had pierced through the skin.

  Shy watched this man try to straighten the shattered bone in his shock, and it occurred to Shy that the man would soon bleed to death and that the man was Supervisor Franco.

  Shy came to on his knees, at the front of the stage. He was crawling over his dead supervisor, over a drowned woman, and then tumbling down the stairs onto his back, where he stared up at the sky from which rain no longer fell, only hovering smoke and
dew and odd salty droplets that traveled in slow motion toward him, dotting his forehead, his nose, his lips, his eyes, and he could see the faint outline of the moon through the thinning storm clouds in the sky, oblivious to all that was happening and people dying, and he breathed and tried to understand, but his mind grew so overwhelmed he was lost.

  Shy was on his knees again, trying to get to another window. He could no longer feel the hum of the engine and he couldn’t hear anything and the air now smelled like burning plastic.

  He rose to his feet, staggered through the silence, over drowned and broken bodies, looking back once more at his dead supervisor, and then he climbed the stairs to the balcony and carried himself to the first blown-out window, where he saw a second great rise of water in the distance, speeding toward them, this one so high above the ship it left no room for sky or moon or stars, and Shy opened his mouth to scream but no sound came out, and then there was another tremendous collision, this one soundless and so vicious he felt ship steel ripping and the walls caving and everything turning over, and he was hurled into the air again, only this time he was lost before he landed.

  23

  The Dead

  Shy opened his eyes to darkness.

  His vision slowly adjusted, and when it did he saw that he was outside the balcony door, a wall inches from his nose. When he turned his head he realized that the ceiling had collapsed and he was trapped underneath. No, not trapped underneath, more sheltered within. The ceiling and wall had formed a sort of teepee over him, saving his life.