Chapters and the Hourglass of Time

by Alexander Kleschelsky

  “I see,” Billy echoed.

  “There is no other exit,” Rohan exhaled. “We can try the kitchen window, though. It will lead us to the backyard. From there we can get into another building.”

  Rohan went to the kitchen window and opened it. He was about to climb out when somebody hailed him in Chinese from the backyard. Billy didn’t understand a word. To his surprise, Rohan answered in the same language without any accent.

  “Who is it?” whispered Billy.

  “It’s a local police volunteer,” Rohan answered in a low tone.

  “What does he want?”

  “They are looking for survivors.”

  The man shouted something else. In the darkness, Billy couldn’t see the speaker so he pointed his flashlight at the direction of the voice. The light was so bright and sudden, that the man had to raise his hand to cover his eyes. Billy only saw a green jacket and a red armband.

  “What are you doing?” Rohan pushed Billy’s hand down. “He may find it insulting.”

  The tone of the man’s voice changed. It sounded more demanding now.

  “What did he say?” asked Billy anxiously.

  “Now he wants to see our papers and check our bags,” Rohan said in exasperation. ”He thinks we may be looters.”

  “What do we do?”

  “Well,” Rohan paused, “we run.”

  He shut the window and rushed back to the corridor. Billy hurried after him. They heard the sound of a police whistle behind them. In the middle of the corridor Rohan stopped and grabbed Billy’s hand. “Hold on tight.” He started running towards the jammed door.

  “What are you doing?” shouted Billy.

  “Stay with me and don’t let go!”

  With all his might, Rohan broke through the door. The doorframe cracked and a portion of the ceiling above caved in just behind Billy, almost scraping his back. They ran a few more steps, then stopped and looked around. They found themselves in another corridor. Only this one was wider and had lots of apartment doors on each side.

  “This way,” said Rohan, still holding Billy’s hand. “Move fast.”

  Although Billy was in good shape, he could barely catch up with Rohan’s long strides.

  They almost covered half the length of the corridor when something suddenly hit Billy’s right leg. The pain in his shinbone was excruciating. Billy lost his grip of Rohan’s hand and heavily hit the floor, raising a cloud of dust. His flashlight rolled a few feet away.

  “Are you all right?” shouted Rohan.

  “I think I broke my leg!” Billy screamed back to him.

  Rohan picked up Billy’s flashlight. “Let me see.”

  Billy sat on the floor, back to the wall, and rolled up his right pant leg.

  “Show me where it hurts,” asked Rohan.

  “Here.” Billy pointed on a little bump on his shin.

  “There is no blood, no visible deformation,” Rohan pronounced, examining the injury. “Just a little bump and some abrasion on the top.”

  “But it really hurts.”

  Rohan put Billy’s flashlight beside him and pressed on the shinbone below the bump. “Does it hurt here?”

  “No.”

  Rohan put some pressure above the wound. “How about here?”

  “Little bit,” Billy said.

  Rohan pressed lightly on the bump.

  “Ouch!” Billy almost cried.

  “Sorry, I won’t do it again,” Rohan said. “Can you move your toes?”

  “Yeah.” Billy wiggled his toes.

  “Any pain?”

  “No.”

  “Can you move your leg?”

  Billy stretched out his right leg and then bent it again. “Kind of.”

  “Does it hurt?”

  “Not much.”

  “Good. Joints are fine. This is just a bruise,” concluded Rohan.

  “But it still hurts, especially when you touch the bump.”

  “You hit something at full speed—it’s supposed to hurt.” Rohan pointed his flashlight to where they came from. A wooden bench lay on its side in the middle of the way. Billy made a face.

  “Rub your shin with your hands— it should take some pain away,” suggested Rohan.

  Billy followed the advice and indeed felt some relief.

  “C’mon,” said Rohan, “we can’t sit here forever.” He rose and gave Billy his hand.

  Billy rolled down his pant leg, picked up his flashlight and grabbed Rohan’s hand. In a strong motion, Rohan helped him up.

  “How do you feel? Can you walk?”

  “Yeah, I kind of feel better.”

  “You take it easy now and watch your step,” Rohan advised.

  “Got it,” said Billy as he began walking, slightly limping and carefully choosing his way. The exit door was getting closer. He sensed that Rohan was frustrated with this unexpected delay, but was trying not to show it.

  “I hope the door isn’t jammed,” were the only words he pronounced out loud.

  Just after he said that, the exit door swung open.

  In the doorway, lit by Rohan’s flashlight, stood the same Chinese man with the red band on his arm. He shouted something. Only this time he wasn’t addressing Rohan. Most likely, he was calling his comrades. His voice sounded victorious. He began walking towards Rohan.

  “Persistent little fellow,” muttered Rohan.

  To Billy’s surprise, Rohan didn’t back up. Instead, he went even faster, with each step picking up the pace. Billy held his breath, anticipating a prolonged struggle in the darkness.

  When Rohan was only two steps away from his opponent, he suddenly tossed his flashlight to the left, dodging at the same time to the right. The red-banded-man followed the flashlight only for a second, but that second was enough for Rohan to land his bone-crushing right hook to the left side of the poor fellow’s skull. Billy had never seen somebody go from a vertical to a horizontal position so fast. It looked almost like the guy teleported to the floor. There was no sound, no movement.

  “Is he alive?” Billy asked in a low tone.

  “Oh yeah, he’ll be fine,” answered Rohan, picking up his flashlight. He looked at Billy who was still frozen. “Well, shall we?” He pointed at the door. “We should keep moving, Billy. This man wasn’t alone.”

  “Yeah, sure.” Billy came back to his senses and followed Rohan to the exit door. He almost forgot about his own injury.

  The exit led to the building foyer, which had suffered the same amount of damage—debris from the ceiling, cracked walls, and scattered furniture. Through the broken glass on the left they could see outside. A white carpet of fresh falling snow covered the ground. Straight ahead was a similar corridor, leading to the next wing of the building. On the right was a courtyard exit. Two flashlight beams shone there erratically—someone was hurriedly trying to get through the ruins into the building.

  Going outside was out of question; footprints on fresh snow would easily betray them. The corridor in front was their only option.

  “This way,” said Rohan. “Turn off your flashlight.”

  They quickly crossed the foyer and stepped into the darkness of the corridor.

  At first, Billy couldn’t see a thing. He followed Rohan blindly, having a good hold on his arm. Rohan, on the other hand, seemed to have better orientation in the darkness. The adrenaline rush must’ve sharpened his senses.

  Eventually, Billy’s eyes adjusted. Some of the apartment doors were open, leaking a weak light from the outside, which also helped.

  One question kept on bugging Billy for quite some time. Now was a good time to ask.

  “Rohan, why do we have to run?”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Why don’t you use the hourglass to pause time?”

  “Oh, that. Because it’s already preset and locked on our final destination. I cannot change it.”

  “So why don’t we go there right now?” Billy wondered.

  “For two reasons,” Rohan explained. �
��First, we are too far away from where we are supposed to be, and second, in the place we’re going to, you won’t last more than an hour without a special suit.”

  “A special suit? What for?

  “To protect your skin and allow you to breathe.”

  “What happened?” asked Billy. “Global warming or something?” He chuckled, hoping that Rohan would appreciate his sense of humor.

  Rohan didn’t smile. “Global warming was merely a beginning, “he said. “It triggered a chain reaction, affecting many other things—the climate shifting, animal migration, and changes in vegetation, to name a few. The pollution made the ozone layer of the atmosphere so thin that your skin would turn into bubbles if exposed to sun. Besides, the oxygen level in the air is so low you could barely breathe without a breathing apparatus.”

  Billy imagined that world for a moment. This made him feel sick. He didn’t like the picture Rohan painted, so he decided to dilute the dark colors.

  “My classmate says that global warming isn’t that bad. It only means more time at the beach.”

  “Your classmate’s opinion is not the biggest problem. The real problem is that many grownups think like him.”

  Billy waited for Rohan to add something else, but he didn’t. The distant clamor of the chase was barely heard now.

  Rohan exhaled. “Okay, I think we lost them.”

  He turned on his flashlight and directed the light to a door at the end of the corridor. “That must be a side exit. We leave the building there, go to the middle of the street and blend in with the crowd.”

  “Got it,” Billy replied, picking up his pace. It seemed as if the light gave him more energy.

  When they covered almost the full length of the corridor, Billy heard a low noise, which felt too familiar. It sounded like the deep, throaty roar of a wild animal and it was coming from beneath. A second later, an invisible force violently shook the building, tossing Rohan and Billy onto the floor.

  “What’s happening?” shouted Billy.

  “An aftershock!” Rohan yelled. “Take cover!”

  Easy to say. But where? Billy’s flashlight couldn’t get through the thick cloud of dust that instantly surrounded him. The loud racket of broken wood and bricks hurt his ears. The building was crumbling. Billy stretched out his arms and felt a doorknob of the apartment door. Lucky for him the door wasn’t locked. He swung it open. In the corner of his mind, Billy remembered the earthquake drill from his school. He sat in the doorway and covered his head with his arms. The next moment, the building collapsed.

  * * *

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Dead or Alive?

  Billy opened his eyes. The sky was so blue it made a few scattered clouds look even whiter. They were so close that Billy felt he could touch them. His body was weightless and his mind was overflowing with excitement. Billy was flying. Not like a little bird, constantly flapping its wings. No. He flew like an eagle, proudly soaring in the sky with its wings spread wide.

  Down below was a desert. Dry cracked ground stretched out all the way to the horizon.

  In the hazy distance, Billy spotted something green. As he got closer, the green spot materialized into a tree. Billy began slowly descending, making wide circles around it. Soon he was able to see more clearly the brown bark on the tree trunk and branches and bright green leaves with tiny dots on them. Something unusual caught Billy’s attention—the tiny dots on the leaves were moving. When Billy got very close he realized that these tiny, almost microscopic, moving dots on the leaves were people with cities, towns, and villages.

  A gust of wind sent the leaves into motion. They rustled, cheerfully rubbing against each other.

  The next blow was stronger. One of the leaves broke apart from the tree and began falling, drawing circles and waves in the air on its way down. Billy watched the leaf softly touch the ground. Only then did he notice there were more leaves there—some of them were still green, but some were turning yellow. Others were brown and gray—they were decaying and falling apart, and every blow of the wind turned them into dust. Billy closed his eyes . . .

  * * *

  Distant noise was coming through the darkness. As it was getting closer, Billy could distinguish human voices. Somebody forced his eyelids open. He saw people surrounding him. They pointed flashlights at him and asked him questions in a language he could not understand. Billy tried to move but he couldn’t. He moaned and shut his eyes again, sinking back into the darkness . . .

  The next time Billy awoke, he was laying in a bed, staring at a white ceiling. By its shape he guessed that he was in a big tent. His small room was separated from the rest of the tent by blue curtains. By the noises and random moans, Billy could tell there were more people in there. A small table and a chair stood beside his bed. A needle was protruding from Billy’s arm. Plastic tubing connected the needle to a see-through bag, hanging on a metal pole above his head.

  A young Chinese girl in a nurse’s uniform was passing by. Her eyes met Billy’s. She shrieked and ran away.

  Well, that was awkward, Billy thought.

  Two minutes later, the nurse came back with another woman in a white doctor’s coat.

  “Finally you’re awake,” said the woman. “I’m Doctor Xiu Zhang. I’m with a medical team of the people’s liberation army.”

  “Doctor Susan?” Billy asked.

  She smiled. “Sure, you can call me that.”

  Then she turned to the nurse and told her something in Chinese. The nurse nodded and placed a thermometer into Billy’s mouth. Doctor Susan took his wrist and found his pulse.

  “Where am I?” asked Billy through his teeth, still holding the thermometer. “What is this?” Billy nodded at the needle in his right arm.

  “You are in a Red Cross Camp,” answered Doctor Susan, “and this is your IV. It helps you to restore your strength.”

  She removed the thermometer from his mouth.

  “Well, looks like you are doing just fine,” said Doctor Susan, seemingly satisfied.

  “How did I get here? What happened to me?” Billy asked.

  “Poor child, you don’t know,” Doctor Susan looked at Billy with sorrow.

  “Don’t know what?”

  “You are a miracle boy,” she said. “You are all over the news!”

  “What?”

  “You were buried under the ruins for three days.”

  “Three days?” Billy’s eyes widened in disbelief.

  “Yes, without food and water. You are lucky they found you. One more day and it would have been too late.”

  “Who found me?” asked Billy, his voice still weak.

  “The rescue dogs,” answered Doctor Susan. “They sniffed you under the wreckage and brought a rescue team.”

  “A rescue team?” Memories were slowly coming back to Billy—lights, people, voices, ruins, earthquake . . . Of course, he remembered now. And then as if an alarm clock buzzed in his head, he remembered that he could not expose himself; he could not be on the news.

  “Where is my clothing? Where is . . .?” Billy rose on his elbows and instantly felt lightheaded. Helplessly, he collapsed back on his pillow. Uneasy thoughts circled in his mind. Where is Rohan? Is he alive? Did he get out or was he still there? What if he would never get to see him again? Did it mean he was stuck here in this country, in this time? Forever?

  Billy felt sick. His face turned pale.

  “Easy, tiger,” said Doctor Susan softly and patted his shoulder. “You need a good rest.”

  She took a syringe with transparent liquid and emptied it into Billy’s IV.

  “The worst part is behind you,” she said. “The most important thing is that you are alive.”

  The last words echoed in Billy’s mind as if they were said into an empty barrel. Billy was falling into a deep well. The circle of light above was getting smaller and smaller until finally it turned into a tiny dot.

  * * *

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Meet the Parents


  When Billy awoke, he was alone. Doctor Susan was right—he did feel well rested.

  For some time he stared at the IV bag over his head. There was something peaceful in watching those droplets dripping down the tubing into his arm. The fact that he didn’t have to hurry and run anywhere made him feel good. At the same time he had an awkward feeling, as if something was missing.

  Then the recollections of recent events began to race in his head.

  At first, Billy thought of Rohan. If he was alive, where was he? Was he safe?

  Then he paged back the last chapter of his life all the way back home. He had been out only for three days, but it felt like half of his life. His pictures were probably all over the news. The police were talking about the last place he was seen and giving a description of the clothing he wore. Oh yeah, his clothing. He almost forgot. It was burned three thousands years ago, in Ancient Egypt. How bizarre.

  His thoughts turned to his parents. How were they? Mom must be crying all the time and Dad pacing from corner to corner unable to find the right spot. Most of all in the world Billy wanted to hug them right now and tell them how sorry he was for causing all these troubles, that he hadn’t meant for any of this to happen, that things simply piled up too fast until they got out of control. If only he had his clothing on now, he wouldn’t need a car or airplane—he would’ve just run home by foot to his mom and dad.

  The icy-cold thought sobered his mind. Run where? His parents most likely weren’t even born now. And if they were, they were just two kids in a kindergarten. This thought felt weird and scary at the same time.

  Billy’s classmates’ faces surfaced in his mind. Everyone in school must be talking about him now. He’d be a real celebrity when he came back.

  He thought of Anna-Maria too. Was she in her palace now or in their classroom, pretending to listen to the teacher and acting surprised every time someone asked about him?

  Billy recognized the complexity of her situation. On one hand she was his friend; on the other hand she was the daughter of a man who wanted to erase Billy from his own chapter. The important question was, when it came to make an uneasy decision where would her loyalty lie—with him or with her father?

  Doctor Susan entered and interrupted Billy’s thoughts.

  “Hello, miracle boy. How are you feeling?” she asked, checking his pulse.

  “Better now,” Billy answered.