Torn

by Druga, Jacqueline

  Colin interjected with a fake crying whine. “Three inches of rain equals thirty inches of snow.”

  Arrogantly, Darius smiled. “Snow. Correct. Nature has a way of irradiating things. Making changes. Like clockwork every twenty-six million years magnetic reversals occur. Oddly enough, coinciding with these reversals are mass extinctions. We’re at that twenty-six million year mark. We’re in the midst of another reversal. This means we’re in the midst of facing another mass extinction. What we’re experiencing right now is nothing less than events leading up to a good old fashioned….” Darius paused and smiled smugly, “ice age.”

  THE BLAIN REPORT

  June 4th …

  “If you are having difficulty hearing me, that’s because the winds here are gusting at times up to 75 miles an hour. This morning, they exceeded over a hundred. We have been advised to stay indoors, as have all the folks here in Charleston, WV, which I plan to do as soon as I finish this broadcast. But, I’ll tell you Brenda, the rain, the raging river, one would not know this little city was so far inland. Experiencing Hurricane Daniel in Charleston…I’m Blain Davis. Back to you.”

  11. PLANS

  June 8th …

  Trying to get out of his car—which he hoped he parked close enough—Chuck fumbled with his camera, recorder, and paper all while listening to Bret. “Bret, just.…”

  “What will we become? I’ve been thinking about this. Have you?”

  “Um, yes, but right now . . . .”

  “The next woolly mammoths? Art work on a museum wall millions of years in the future? A viewable anomaly that the strange new breed of humans gawk at and say, ‘We looked like that’?”

  “Good Lord, Bret. Now you’re overreacting. Haven’t we decided that we will not become a statistic? The human race will go on, if we’re smart and well-prepared. Isn’t that what you’re doing? Aren’t you there yet?”

  “Almost,” she said. “I was driving and thinking. How about you? How’s Albany?”

  “I’m here. I’m not seeing any press…yet. In fact, I see only locals.”

  “Have you seen it yet?” Bret asked.

  “Closing in on the crowd . . . wait. Shit.”

  “You see it.”

  “No.”

  “You can’t see it?” Bret questioned.

  “Bret, damn it,” Chuck complained. “Did you tell him again?”

  “Who?”

  “Blain Davis.”

  Silence.

  “You did,” Chuck said.

  “Well.…”

  “Bret, fuck,” he griped. “This is mine. He scooped me on the Charleston bit. Darius is giving me the heads up on his finds. I’m the geo boy, remember. Not him. I’m the first here. Not him. Darius is the only one able to figure out what’s going on, and he’s giving me the info first. It’s not intended for Blain Davis, CNS superstar.”

  “Chuck, please. He asked where you were.”

  “Why couldn’t you tell him Cleveland or something?”

  “All I said was Albany.”

  “In which he asked why I’m in Albany?”

  Bret stuttered. “He uh…well, yeah.”

  “I’m not telling you anymore. When Darius sees an area stirring, I’ll wait.”

  “Ha. Darius tells me.”

  “Well, then open your mouth one more time and I’ll tell Jesse I think you have the hots for Blain, that’s why you’re giving him info.”

  “Ha, ha, ha, again.” Bret said. “Jesse saw Blain. Met him. Sees no threat. Won’t work.”

  “OK, he hasn’t met Darius or Colin. What can I make up about them? Plus the fact you aren’t telling Jesse it all.”

  Silence again.

  Chuck laughed.

  “Tattletale.”

  “Bye.”

  “It’s only a crack in the ground, Chuck.”

  “Bye.” Chuck disconnected the call, put his phone away and walked through the hordes of people. His main destination was Blain Davis, and he’d almost reached it when he saw the reason for his Albany visit.

  The main street of Albany had lifted. A huge crack was not only on the surface of the street, but it went deep within the earth, like an earthquake had hit. Darius told him about the shifting in that area, even the fact that seismology was indicating something big. But thus far the only big thing was the crack in the street. Which…was pretty phenomenal.

  “Chuck Wright?” Blain extended his hand.

  Chuck showed his full hands. “Can’t or I’d shake. What are you doing here?”

  “I heard a big geological occurrence is gonna happen.”

  “Was.” Chuck corrected. “It did. See the crack in the road? Now you can go. No big deal.”

  “I know you’re getting information from Darius Cobb.”

  Chuck only stared.

  “Come on, Chuck. Brotherhood of journalism here. What’s up?”

  Shrugging, Chuck shook his head. “Don’t know. This is it. Take a picture. Not much. Darius was.…”

  Before he could finish his words, a slight rumble sounded followed by a vibration beneath their feet.

  “Get back!” a fire fighter called out. “People step back.”

  “Did it lift?” Blain asked. “It doesn’t look like it lifted anymore.”

  “I have to find witnesses,” Chuck said. “See if anyone felt anything when this happened.”

  “No, the two men one block away having a beer only saw it when they left the bar.” Blain spoke. “They.…”

  He paused when another rumble hit.

  Blain continued, “They were shocked.”

  “Maybe they were half-crocked.” Chuck started. “I bet this one registered a 5 on the Richter scale which is pretty big.”

  “No one felt it.”

  “Bullshit.” Chuck snapped. “You’re lying because you got a story.”

  “You’re lying. There was no 5 on the Richter.”

  “Was too.” Chuck said.

  “Was not.”

  “I’m telling.…”

  It knocked him off his feet. In fact the jolt was so strong that the fifty people standing around bobbed, swayed, fell like dominoes.

  “It’s lifting!” an emergency worker cried out. “Back. Back up!” His arms and those of others shoved the crowd back.

  Chuck raised his camera. “Holy shit.”

  The left side of the street lifted higher; then with another shake, the ground opened wider.

  Blain backed up, staying close to Chuck. “It’s like…it’s hell reaching up to us. Oh!” he whipped out a recorder and held it close to his mouth, all while the ground shook. “The mouth of Mother Earth,” he spoke in his recorder, “right here in Albany is opening wide. And it’s as if Hell is reaching up for us.”

  Chuck gave a disgusted look to him. “Why you have to be so dramatic?”

  “It’s the news. I’m the news.”

  “You’re a fool. Hell reaching.…” Chuck grabbed on to Blain and yanked him back further. “Oh my God you’re right.”

  Blain, who had been turned from view point, looked at Chuck. “What do you mean?”

  “Hell unleashed. Let’s go!” he charged and pulled Blain with everything he had. They ran with the masses and headed directly to the car, trying to break ahead and free. They couldn’t stop. They couldn’t take a chance on even hesitating. Especially when fire—thick and lava-like—spewed forth furiously like a fountain from the gaping hole in the ground.

  ***

  Colin’s handheld pocket-size television showed vivid, immediate shots of the emerging small volcano in Albany New York. Outside a parked car, he and Darius hovered over it watching.

  “There are tectonic plates everywhere,” Darius said. “You know they can appear.”

  “Who would have thought Albany?”

  “Not me.” Darius shrugged.

  “Now, tell me.…” Colin pointed at the screen. “How did Blain Davis know to be there? I thought we were giving all scoop to Chuck.”

  “We di
d. Bret told him.”

  “Bret,” Colin grumbled.

  “Someone say my name.” Cheerfully, Bret approached the pair as they stood outside of Darius’ car. “I’m sorry I’m late.”

  Colin looked at his watch. “Right on time. We don’t have to be there until two.”

  Bret looked at Darius. “You said one thirty.”

  Darius nodded. “Chuck said you’re always late, so I compensated. Get in.” He opened the back door for her. “Winslow lives three blocks up.”

  “You want me to just leave my car here?” she asked.

  “Looks better if we arrive all together.” Darius replied.

  Bret slid in, and waited for Colin and Darius to do the same. Immediately, Darius started driving.

  “You look very nice,” Colin complimented. “Thank you for dressing up.”

  “Darius said this was important to the cause.” Bret leaned between the seats. “What role does it play?”

  Darius simply replied, “Our survival.”

  The car turned the corner in the section of town where only the elite could afford to dwell.

  “Second house,” Colin instructed with a point.

  “Whoa.” Bret poked between the two men. “Why are we here? And don’t give me the melodramatic answer.”

  Darius turned the car into the long and winding driveway. “To survive we have to implement a survival plan more than staying warm,” he said. “To do an effective plan we need funds, lots of them and more than Colin and myself have.”

  “So we’re coming to this house, to ask whoever lives here for that money.”

  “Some if not all,” Darius answered. “Jacques Winslow has no family and seeing that he’s older.”

  “How old?” Bret answered nearly interrupting.

  “How that makes a difference, I don’t know.” Darius replied.

  Colin snickered. “It could. He could die before he gives the money, or right after and we’d not owe him anything.”

  “Oh my God,” Bret whisper as the car stopped. “Tell me he’s not in a wheelchair.”

  Both Colin and Darius looked at her.

  She peeped a shriek. “He is. I saw this in a movie. An end of the world movie, When Worlds Collide, and they got funding from this lonely, mean old man.”

  Darius nodded his head to Colin. “He must have seen the same movie. He told me he got the idea from that.”

  “Not entirely,” Colin defended. “Mr. Winslow funds many things at the university.”

  Bret tapped Colin on the shoulder. “Was it the movie where the two planets were ready to collide and.…”

  “Hey,” Darius halted her. “We have to go convince this guy.”

  “Wait a second.” Bret stopped him before he opened the car door. “You two are the scientists. Why am I here?”

  “To convince him.” Darius stepped out.

  Bret hesitated. “How?”

  “Let me fix that skirt.” Darius reached down for Bret’s garment right at the door.

  Colin covered his smile. “I can’t believe you made her wear a dress.”

  “Whatever works.” Darius grabbed the waist of the skirt.

  “Hey.” Bret snipped. “You’re lifting it. It’s already.…”

  “Needs to be shorter.” Darius tucked it. “There.”

  “What is this guy, a pervert?” Bret looked down.

  “Yes,” Darius answered. “Don’t touch it. And keep in mind,” he moved her hand from the skirt, “he’s a little out there.”

  Jacques Winslow was a seventy-year-old man who was confined to a wheelchair. With an inherited fortune from coalmines, and with proper investments, Winslow had the means to help.

  The huge double oak doors parted slightly, and a frail elderly man dressed in a suit walked out. He spoke slowly, and articulately. “Mr. Winslow…will see you…now.” He nodded then stepped away.

  Darius gave a courtesy knock on the door and stepped inside, whispering to Bret. “Don’t say anything, please keep all answers limited to two words or less. Be nice.”

  Bret’s mouth went agape in offense.

  Colin stayed close to her. “Ignore him.”

  “Am I only for show?” Bret asked.

  Colin smiled.

  The motorized wheelchair spun around from the big window and into the desk. Jacques Winslow was a thin man, balding, and not quite as old as someone that would be dying shortly. “Awful shame about that volcano in Albany.”

  Colin sighed out. “Awful shame.”

  “Hear they’re spreading like wildfire.”

  Colin shrugged. “Possibly.”

  “Oh my God,” Bret whispered. “He looks just like the man.…” She jolted when Darius grabbed her arm firmly and led her closer.

  “Gentlemen,” Winslow spoke in a dignified manner. “And.…”

  “Bret.” Darius introduced.

  “How do you do?” Bret extended her hand, still within the clutches of Darius.

  “Better now. Thank you. Have a seat.”

  All three of them did.

  “Professor Cobb,” Winslow said. “Dr. Reye. I saw both of you on the news.”

  Darius smiled politely. “And hence the reason we’re here.”

  Winslow looked directly at Bret. “Are you married?”

  “Yes,” Bret answered.

  “Ah,” Winslow nodded and returned to Darius. “Go on.”

  “May I?” Colin asked. When he received acknowledgement he stood. “Look, Mr. Winslow. You have been an integral part of funding for the university. Basically you’re a man worth quite a bit of dough. Now . . . how can one spend that dough wisely if . . . if . . . no,” Colin shook his head. “When . . . the world ends.”

  Darius groaned. “Can you be any blunter?”

  Darius and Bret jumped a foot when Winslow slammed a hand on the desk.

  “Silence, blunt is best. I hate beating around the bush,” Winslow said crassly. “Go on Dr. Reye.”

  “Can you answer the question?”

  Winslow paused in thought. “When the world ends? You can’t.”

  “Exactly. Now . . . take that same scenario and . . . .”

  “Are you married?” Winslow asked Bret again.

  “Yes,” she replied.

  “Ah.” He nodded then returned to Colin. “You were saying God . . . .”

  “No, nothing about God. Scenario.” Colin explained. “Answer this question. How can one spend tons of money wisely if he knows ahead of time that the world is going to end?”

  “Use it to save his life,” Winslow responded.

  “Bingo.” Colin smiled. “We’re off and running. Would you?”

  “Use tons of money to save my life? Yes,” Winslow said.

  “Good. Now . . . .”

  “Wait . . .” Winslow sang the word. “Wait . . . are you? Are you telling me that you need money to stop the end of the world?”

  “Actually, I’m . . .” Colin tried to answer but Winslow interrupted.

  “Are you a prophet?” Winslow asked Colin.

  “No, I’m . . .”

  “Are you?” He questioned Darius.

  “No, I’m . . .”

  “You?” He went to Bret.

  “Some say I am.”

  “Ah,” Winslow nodded. “So you have had this vision of the end of the world. Has God spoken to you?”

  Colin chuckled. “Sir, really if God gave Bret the message the world was ending, could money do any good?”

  “No,” Winslow said. “God can’t be bought; neither can good judgment. Plus, money can’t stop it.” Winslow slammed his hand again. “Goddamn Russians, are we back in the Cold War? Are we gonna build a doozey of a bomb shelter?”

  “Close.” Colin said.

  “I hate the Russians.”

  “Sir,” Colin tried again. “The Russians have nothing to do with this. Although if you wish to blame it on them, I’m sure some experiment they pulled in the seventies might have had repercussions on what we’re facing.”
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  “Are you married?” he asked of Bret.

  “Yes.”

  “Ah.” Winslow nodded again.

  Colin continued, “What we’re dealing with basically isn’t a man made issue. It’s out of our hands. It’s earth and space.”

  “Earth and space.” Winslow repeated. “Can it be stopped?”

  “No.” Colin shook his head.

  “We can’t use the nukes to do any good?”

  “No.”

  “Send a few men out into space and.…”

  “No.” Colin lifted his hand. “We can’t. It will happen. We can only prepare.”

  “Earth and space . . . .” Winslow stared out. “Earth and space. Prepare. You mean for survival.”

  “Yes, we may not be able to stop it, but we certainly can get ready. However, getting ready costs money. Things need to be constructed. A place to go, a transport there.…”

  “And you need me to fund.” Winslow asked.

  “Yes,” Colin answered.

  “How much?”

  After a clearing of his throat, Colin said. “Eight million.”

  Bret sprang up in shock. “Holy shit. Eight million dollars!”

  Darius tugged her back to her seat.

  Colin remained composed and repeated, “Eight million.”

  Fingers tapping, Winslow peered. “Doesn’t sound like much. To build a station, transport and so forth. Supplies as well?”

  “Yes,” Colin answered.

  “Doesn’t sound like much.” He grazed his finger tip over his top lip. “Will there be oxygen at this place we’re going.”

  Colin responded, “Yes. Plenty. It’ll still be cold, but not frozen.”

  “How will we grow our own food then?”

  “Greenhouses.”

  “And there is oxygen? You’re sure?” Winslow questioned.

  “Positive.”

  “Hmm. Air samples, have you taken them?”

  “We can.”

  Bret looked curiously at Darius who just flung his hand at her to be quiet.

  Winslow continued, “Sounds like minimal to be able to live.” He faced Bret. “And you are married.”