The Shattered Genesis (Eternity)

by Rudacille, T.

  “Thank you for pointing that out to us, Emma.” My best friend and sarcastic partner-in-crime, Miranda replied after looking up from her notes. “I'm sure we would have all walked outside without our coats and in cut-off shorts if you hadn't informed us that it's snowing!”

  She mimicked her overly excited tone on the last part and waved her hands in the air like a drunken middle-aged bar hopper trying to dance with their younger counterparts. I covered my mouth as I cracked up hysterically. Miranda was the more outspoken one between the two of us. I tried to keep my scathing sarcasm to myself whereas she wore it on her sleeve for all the world to see. I needed that, my sister said. I needed someone who would say what I was thinking so that I might one day learn to do the same. Yes, my sister did frequently talk like Yoda.

  I learned everything I knew about life from my sister. My mother's high-class career left little room for focusing on her children. So my big sister, the second-oldest of us all, had to pick up Mom's slack. I had only just realized that as I began to go through the trials and tribulations of adolescence. When I needed help navigating those stormed-upon, erratic waters, my mother would turn away, clueless as to how to assist me. My sister knew by instinct and from experience exactly what to do and say, always.

  I loved her for that.

  “Thank you, Miranda.” Our teacher said, in slight exasperation. “Everyone, eyes up front, please.”

  Our class, who like ferrets with ADHD had turned abruptly to the windows at Emma's outburst turned back around, muttering about what a heinous so-and-so Miranda was. I looked at her, expecting to see some indication of discomfort at being discussed negatively by our peers but as usual, saw nothing but the deepest apathy. I couldn't shake the smile from my face.

  “I don't even care.” Emma shot loudly at her friend who was staring back at us, muttering no doubt about how bitchy Miranda was.

  Emma certainly looked like she didn't care, if the way she rolled her eyes and shrugged several times was any indication. She raised her voice and said grandiosely, “'Anger is an acid that can do more harm to the vessel in which it is stored than to anything on which it is poured.'”

  Now, I know that Emma must have thought she was quite clever for quoting Mark Twain verbatim. Unfortunately, she underestimated Miranda's own knowledge.

  Emma turned to look at Miranda and said, “That's Mark Twain, in case you didn't know.”

  “How long did you have to skim through quotes online to find one that might be applicable to real life?” Miranda asked her, “Is that what you do in your spare time when you're not writing pathetic little essays about your closeted boyfriend and your fake suicide attempts?”

  “Ladies, that's enough!” Our teacher snapped, “May I continue now, Miranda?”

  “Sure, blame Miranda...” Miranda said as she held up her hands in mock surrender, “Continue.”

  I shook my head slightly, still grinning, before returning my gaze to the world outside my window. I marveled at the number of kids who had done that very same thing over the years. They had sat exactly where I was sitting, staring out the window, dreaming of the moment the bell rang and they were free. I don't know where my sudden burst of nostalgia came from. My sister would tell me later that my reminiscence was so strong because somewhere in my subconscious, the infinite knowledge was emerging and as a result, I knew what was to come.

  I don't remember the moment that I drifted off. Biology was my long period that day and we still had over an hour left of class. My teacher's voice was droning on and the snow was falling softly outside, lulling me to sleep...

  A high pitched whirring sound that caused an entire city to fall to its knees. Everyone holding their ears and screaming so loud that their faces were turning red from the effort and I still couldn't hear them over the screeching sound. Then, a silence so deep that it rattled my brain. It lasted for such a long time; a minute and a half felt like an eternity. Then, an explosion that shook the earth beneath my feet. A tidal wave of fire was barreling towards me rapidly and there was nowhere to run. There was no escape from this fiery death. For a split second, I felt it swallow me, my skin blasting off, every nerve ending screaming in agony...

  I was screaming in agony and in terror when I awoke. As soon as my eyes opened, I saw that the entire class had turned to me, their faces betraying shock and in a few cases, amusement. I jumped up, sweat pouring off of me like a last defense against the burns I had just suffered.

  “What? What is it?” Miranda asked as she stood up, too.

  “I'm...” I started to say as my teacher walked around his desk to approach me. I pointed at the door, unable to speak now.

  “You're fine. Go ahead.” He told me, nodding. His brows were furrowed and his face conveyed something more than just concern. There was recognition in his eyes that I didn't understand.

  “I'm going with her.”

  “Yeah.” Mr. Barnes nodded and Miranda came running out of the classroom after me. I was walking as fast as my legs would allow. They felt weak and I acknowledged briefly that they were trembling worse than the rest of my body. My sister would tell me later that my survival instinct was still working; my body was trying to save itself from the stream of fire.

  The stream of fire... What was it? Why had it been so real?

  “Hey, crazy!” Miranda grabbed my arm and turned me around to face her. “What happened? Oh my...” My appearance halted her mid-sentence. I was still sweating and my face had gone far beyond the white of a ghost's skin. “You need to go to the nurse, Vi. You look terrible.”

  “I need to go home.” My throat clenched and tears started to fall from her eyes. “I just want to go home, Manda.”

  “Okay. Come on. We'll go. Mr. Barnes will explain what happened if we get in trouble for cutting. Let's just go.” She grasped my hand and the contact comforted me more than I would ever have said. We passed teachers and administrators without stopping, walking right out the door into the frigid winter air.

  It was the cold that snapped me back to my senses. I started telling her about the dream, rambling on and on with all the grim, terrifying details.

  “It was just a dream, Vi. You're just freaked out from it. I remember this one time I had a dream that my teeth were falling out and I woke up...”

  “This isn't like that!” I snapped at her, raising my voice to a volume that I didn't intend. “This was... It was so real!”

  “All dreams feel real like that, Violet.” She told me as she started the car. “Plus, that wasn't just a dream. It was a night terror. Remember in Psych what...”

  “You don't understand. It was just...” I shook my head slightly, bringing one trembling hand up to my face to rub my eyes.

  “Where do you want to go?”

  “Home.” I replied instantly, “Manda, if you knew what I had seen...”

  “You just told me what you saw. It sounds like the apocalypse to me.”

  “If you knew how it felt to see that...” I corrected myself, “I think...”

  “What?”

  “I think the end of the world is coming.”

  “The end of the world?” She asked me with so much skepticism and sarcasm in her voice that I could have slapped her. “It was just a dream, dude. I get that it feels real to you still, but you just had it. In a couple of hours, you'll be fine. I told you, I had a dream once about my teeth falling out...”

  “This was nothing like the dream where your teeth were falling out! That's a vanity thing, Miranda! This was... catastrophic!” I yelled at her and luckily, we had pulled into my neighborhood because she slammed on the brakes, angered by my outburst.

  “I'm just trying to make you feel better.” She told me bitterly, “But if you want to believe that you just had some sort of psychic vision and now you have to save the world, then go for it. But I'm not going to tell you that I believe it!”

  “You don't know how it felt! You don't know how real it was! I know this is something real. I know it! And I don't need you
or anyone else to believe me!”

  “Yeah? Then what are you going to do?”

  “I'm going to...” I stopped because in that moment, when my frustration had built to such a point that I couldn't control it, my purse that I had put up on the dashboard slid onto the floor. The car lurched forward despite the fact that her foot wasn't on the gas pedal. The lights on the dashboard started to flicker on and off and the radio blared in our ears at full volume.

  “Turn it off!” I screamed at her, covering my ears but as she reached for the dial to turn back to the volume, the car stopped acting on its own accord. Everything was silent, including us.

  “What was that!?” She screamed before pointing an accusatory finger at me, “It was you!”

  “Me?!” I exclaimed, stunned that Miranda, who was always so logical, could believe something so preposterous.

  “You were angry, so you...” She was frantically trying to explain exactly what I had done and when she came up short (a first for her, believe me), she looked back at me in a terrified rage, “Get out!”

  “What?! Miranda...”

  “Get out! You're a freak! You're... insane! You're...”

  “Manda, I didn't do anything! Your car was just acting stupid!”

  “It's never done that before! It was doing that because you were mad! You're just...” Another frantic search for an explanation or maybe even an insult, “...a freak!”.

  “I didn't do anything!” I cried again, tears now starting to stream from my eyes. “Manda, please, I need you to help me. I need you to help me figure this out! I can't do it on your own!”

  “Well, then, call your freak sister and get her to help you! You've both always been freaks!”

  I should have walked away after that. But I kept begging her, quite shamelessly, to help me. We had been best friends for almost four years and she had always had a solution to every problem we encountered. We had never fought or disagreed. She had become the first source I went to if I needed to be comforted once my sister moved out. During those times when I needed her, she always knew what to say. It was almost stunning how easily she was able to rectify any fear or sadness I felt.

  But she insisted that I leave, threatening to call the police if I didn't. Finally, I knew the battle was lost and I obeyed. She sped away, her tires squealing and slipping on the ice that had covered the road. I stood there on the street, crying and swiping at my eyes, watching her car move further and further away at a hazardous speed.

  I have an awful habit that I learned from my sister. When I cry, I feel weakness. She was so good at forcing her sadness away to some deep, dark recess inside of her that our parents worried she harbored sociopathic tendencies. When she felt any level of despair towards anything, she flipped some switch in her mind to anger, an emotion that, in her not-so-humble opinion, was far more comfortable. Everything came back to anger with her. That particular tendency didn't abet my parents' anxieties over her potentially depraved insanity.

  I was not nearly as skilled at suppression as she was. But as I watched Miranda's car speed to the end of the street, I felt my sadness flip abruptly to anger. I was furious that she had abandoned me when I needed her. I was furious that she had called me a freak. But above all else, I couldn't stand that she didn't believe me.

  It wasn't her fault that she doubted my story. I wish I had known that then. I'll never be able to express how strongly I wish that.

  I don't know exactly what happened but as that rage gripped me, I heard one loud pop that was actually the sound of four tires exploding simultaneously. I watched Miranda's car veer sideways suddenly. Even from where I was standing, I could hear her feet furiously stomping on the brake pedal. The snow silenced what would have been a deafening bang as the car slammed, head-first, into the lit street lamp. The bulb inside flickered twice before going out.

  As quickly as that anger had taken me in its grip, it dissipated. It was a snap of the fingers, a jolt that happened in less than a millisecond. It melted away like the flakes of snow landing gently on my face. My mind went completely blank as though every memory and every bit of knowledge had been wiped away in one swipe. I was running to the car but didn't realize it. My footsteps were being erased by the rapidly falling snow. The snow... I didn't even feel it anymore, nor did I feel the frigidity that had made it possible.

  When I reached the car, the grief was immediate. I had no way of knowing if Miranda had died, but I was sure that if she was still drawing breath, it would not be for long. My knees buckled and I was lying with my face in the snow as horrified, frenzied sobs shook not just my physical body but my soul, as well.

  I don't know for sure if the accident was my fault. I will never know for sure if I killed Miranda. Most people wouldn't want to know but I would give my dying breath for that certainty. If her death was my fault, she deserves for me to suffer for it. She deserves to watch from above as the crushing guilt I felt drove me insane.

  I looked up after several long, agonizing moments. I wanted to run to the car, pull her out, and give everything I had left in me to revive her. But the thought of her mangled body brought a wave of warmth from the pit of my stomach that went spewing out onto the ground. Once the last of it had fallen from me, I was in the clutches of another bout of tears that sent me falling sideways into the snow.

  If there are words for that kind of longing regret and harrowing guilt, I cannot find them, even after all these years have passed.

  Brynna

  “I realize that you're getting tired, but unless you want to die right now instead of when the end of the world occurs, I would not suggest you letting me drive.” I snapped at James as I furiously cleaned my glasses with a terrycloth.

  We were both tired, hungry and cold. We were cold because for some inexplicable reason, the heater in his car had broken. We stopped the fight we had been having to stare at it in shock. Then, we tried to blame the faulty heating on each other, quite ridiculously.

  “We are an hour from your house, you said. I'll grab the wheel in the event of an emergency.” He snapped back at me in a voice dripping with sarcasm.

  “No, you will not because you will be asleep! Is that not why you want me to drive in the first place? Something tells me that while you're dozing peacefully you will be unable to stop a fatal car crash from occurring. Given that I do not want to die nor do I want to commit vehicular manslaughter, I need you to remain conscious.”

  “I wasn't planning on going to sleep. I was just going to rest my eyes. I've told you that now like, seven times. Has it absorbed yet?!”

  “You will not be alert either way! If you want to place your life into my hands, then pull over and I will drive.”

  “No. Forget it. You're never going to let me hear the end of it if I make you drive. God, I thought you said you were a genius...”

  “What in the name of all deities and Gods does my proven genius have to do with my ability to drive in inclement weather? I don't drive in the snow!” I threw my cigarette out the window in a huff, “Where did the snow even come from?! It was somewhat light this morning!”

  “Somewhat being the key term there.”

  “I knew you were going to say that! Just focus on the road, please. I do not wish to die today and the snow is falling heavily...”

  “Is that my fault, too?”

  I exclaimed loudly in annoyance, my eyes wide.

  “God, you are insufferable!” I grabbed the lever on the side of the seat and pulled it, pushing backwards until I was lying flat on my back.

  “Don't even go to sleep right now.”

  I lowered my sunglasses and closed my eyes.

  “No! That is not even fair!

  “Okay, it's not fair.” I rolled my eyes, “What are you, twelve?!”

  “Just shut up.”

  “What?!” I grabbed the lever again and flung myself up, the seat following behind me, “Lest you wish to swallow every last tooth in your mouth, do not tell me to shut up!”

  Two day
s without sleep and almost twenty four hours without food turn even the calmest (James) and the smartest (me) people into squabbling, immature children.

  I frowned when I brought my hand back from the side of the seat. The lever that moved the seat forward and backwards was in my hand.

  “Did you just break something?” He asked, his exasperation evident as his eyes stayed fixed on the road.

  I glared at him and reached my hand over. After a moment, I dropped the lever into his lap.

  “Damn it, Brynna!”

  “I'm sorry that the people who constructed your fancy, high-dollar, electric car were more interested in aesthetics and environmental preservation than quality.”

  “Do you always have something to say? Some smart-ass remark?!” He yelled, turning the windshield wipers up to the next speed as the snow began falling even more quickly.

  “Turn your lights on.” I said, just to prove that yes, I did always have some derisive comment up my sleeve. I grabbed an issue of Men's Health that was on the floor of his car. On the cover, there was some buff movie star posing in a loincloth for a film that the headline exclaimed was made for well over two hundred and fifty million dollars. Even if the world wasn't ending, the film would probably bomb.

  “Is that interesting?” He asked me.

  “I thought we were shutting up.” I replied coolly.

  “I never said I was shutting up and since when do you listen to me? I'm interested to know exactly when that started happening.”

  “I'm not listening to you. I'm not talking to you because you're irritating me. So I am going to read this very interesting issue of Men's Health.” I was silent for a minute, scanning through an article but absorbing not a single word. The silence between us was raising the hair on the back of my neck.