by A I Knowles
“Go!” I shout as another impact rocks the building. Her pale face disappears and I throw my shoulder against the closing door, barreling through and onto the stairs just steps behind the children. Lara cries against my shoulder and several of the children flop onto the floor, refusing to move. I grab a toddler with my free arm and the other women pick up the rest. As a group, we race for the ground floor.
We emerge into utter chaos. More impacts make the building shudder as if it will fly into pieces. Cracks are visible in the walls, and growing at a rapid pace. At the end of the hall, two men struggle to pull down the boards which cover the windows. Once the plywood slams to the ground, they throw themselves against the glass. It quivers, but holds firm.
All around me, people are screaming. I lose hold of the toddler, and can only pray he doesn’t get trampled. Lara is still in my arms, whimpering and crying. My mind has gone numb, and I see each instant as if it is engraved on crystal. Time moves with agonizing slowness as yet more impacts rock the building around us and the men beat against the unyielding glass.
Finally, someone finds a rock and one of the men takes it.
Crack. A single hit, and the glass grows a spider’s web of lines. A second, and it shatters. The man lets out a cry as his arm passes through the hole and scrapes across a sharp edge. Another man takes the rock and batters at the remaining shards until there is enough space to climb through.
Boom. I’m carried forward on a wave of humanity, unable to turn back even if I wanted to. Outside, I see billowing smoke and red flames dancing. We don’t have a choice. We have to escape before the building falls and buries us all alive.
The two men who broke the window stand on either side and help people through. All of the nearest ones are adults who are so terrified they haven’t stopped to think about the children who can’t fend for themselves. I am swept ever closer to the exit as the building continues to shudder. A chorus of screams rises as something heavy falls to the ground behind me. I can’t look back. I have to focus on moving forward.
I reach the window and look into the face of the man who cut his arm.
“El,” I gasp.
El grabs me by the shoulders. “When you get out there, you keep running, do you hear me? You don’t stop. I don’t care what you hear or what you see, you keep running until you reach someplace to hide. Promise me!” He shakes me, and I gasp in pain.
“I promise!” He nods, and takes Lara from my arms so I can climb through the opening. Shards of glass, already blood-stained, scrape against my legs. I turn, and El hands Lara to me.
“Run!” he shouts, and I obey. I take off across the ground, the little girl cradled against my chest, and I weave through the chunks of concrete and rock dotting the ground.
This wasn’t the day to have forgotten to wear shoes, but there’s nothing I can do except silently lament the fact as my feet are scraped and punctured by every little thing on the ground. I can hardly feel the pain through the amount of adrenaline surging in my veins. Even when my breath comes short and my heart feels as if it will burst from my chest, I continue to run. I can only see a few feet in front of myself through the billowing clouds of black smoke. Continued impacts make the ground shudder, and Lara cries out with each one.
A horrible rending, cracking sound rumbles to life behind me and I can’t help myself. I spin around, heart in my throat, to find the building on the verge of complete collapse. I can only see bits of it through the smoke, which stings my eyes and throat. As I watch, unable to force myself back into motion, the whole thing shivers. As if in slow motion, it crumbles in upon itself and descends to the ground. When it hits, I understand why El told me to keep running. Giant slabs of concrete, with jagged lengths of rebar protruding from their edges, fall many feet beyond where the walls once stood.
People emerge from the smoke and stumble to a stop near me, coughing and crying. Nearly as one they turn and stare, and we watch. I stare, unable to move, think, or breathe as screams of panic and pain are extinguished when a truck-sized piece of concrete falls right on the spot where I just ran moments before.
El. My heart constricts, and tears burn their way through the tracks of dust on my cheeks. El. Oh, El. I wait, along with everyone else, as more and more people come staggering from the smoke. I scan the crowd desperately, searching for that one most familiar face. At one point I catch sight of Kara and pass her daughter to her, before resuming my post, watching.
The numbers of people joining us dwindle, and then cease. Giant sobs wrack my body as I realize El isn’t coming. He’s gone. Dead. I’ll never see him again, the one person in my life who I can truly call a friend.
Boom. The ground shudders, and people cry out. A whistling sound passes overhead, and something explodes off to the left. Someone shouts. “Keep moving! Head for the tunnel!” but I can’t force myself to budge. Who’s to say they won’t just bomb us out there?
Anger floods through me. The Society. They did this. They attacked a community of people whose only crime was wanting to remain human. They ended lives simply for demanding the right to stay alive. One way or another, we all die at the hands of the Society. Is that just the way it is now?
I can’t move. I can hardly breathe.
Through the roiling smoke, a single outline takes shape. It stumbles forward. I break into a run, my feet pounding across the ground which shreds them, seeking to reach the figure before it collapses.
Just as I come within arms’ reach of him, he falls to the ground. I roll him over, and a gaunt, pale face looks up at me.
“El,” I gasp. “You’re alive.”
With shaking arms, he pushes himself into a sitting position, his eyes never leaving my face. His bloody hand reaches out and cradles the side of my face. Then his fingers move to cup the back of my neck and he’s pulling me toward him.
His lips meet mine in a connection so desperate, so triumphant, that I both fear it will never end...and also hope I’m right. Fire floods through my body as he kisses me, overwhelming the acrid tang of smoke in my throat and the way the ground shakes all around us. I taste blood and salt.
I’ve never felt so alive.
Chapter 11: The Tunnel
All around us is darkness, punctuated only by the flickering light of candles and the dim glow of lanterns. We made it to the tunnel amid a continuing assault of missiles, but our numbers are badly thinned. Where this community once stood nearly five hundred strong, little more than a hundred now surround me. I hear whispers that there may be others still alive but buried in rubble, and I listen as desperate mothers and siblings and spouses beg to return and start a search. I hear their screams as their fervent requests are denied.
We have to wait. If we emerge now, while the sun is still high and the smoke is dissipating, we will be seen. They will resume the bombardment and more of us will be killed. Plus, we have no equipment and no expertise to move large amounts of concrete and metal. I listen to people, full of rage driven by fear, as they rail against those who won’t let them return. I know I would feel the same if El was still there. Every cry grates against me as if I’m the one they’re screaming at. But we can’t. We have to stay here. We have to...
“Alyss. Take it.” I look up at El, only now realizing he’s been trying to force a bottle of water into my hands. I let him hand me the crinkly plastic, but end up staring at it as if it’s an object I’ve never seen before. El lowers himself to the gravel beside me, his shoulder touching mine.
“I’m not thirsty.” It seems like a ridiculous thing to say, as if the bottle will evaporate in a few moments if I don’t drink the water.
“You need to drink. You need to wash away the smoke.”
As if his words reconnect me to my body, the stinging in my chest overwhelms me and sends me into a coughing fit. Someone shoves a plastic mask in my face and El holds it there despite my weak resistance.
“No, Alyss. Stop. You need the oxygen.”
With a great effort, I push his hands away
. “Stop telling me what I need!” I scream in his face, so loudly it sends a jolt of pain through my throat and I subside into even stronger coughing. The spasms of my chest leave me too weak to resist the mask. He kneels in front of me as I lean against the dark brick of the tunnel walls. An ancient metal track runs through the center of the tunnel, and there’s packed gravel on either side. People are huddled in groups, crying or just staring blankly off into space. Many of those who were violently determined to return to the building are now the most still and silent of us all.
“Alyss.” El is kneeling in front of me, his dark eyes fixed on mine. His face swims in front of me as I gasp for breath. “Hey. Just breathe. You’ll be alright. Just breathe.” He launches into his own coughing and I watch, too numb and weak to help, as he falls to hands and knees on the gravel. Summoning all of my strength, I pull the mask from my own face and place it over his. Though he shakes his head, his coughing intensifies and he ends up clutching the plastic to his nose and mouth.
“El. El!” I crawl over to him when he goes limp and collapses to the ground. His hand falls away, taking the mask with it. Struggling to catch my breath, I kneel beside him and hold it against his face. “El, wake up!” the heaving of his chest slows until I can no longer tell if he’s breathing. “El!” I look around in terror, searching for Kara or someone else who wears doctor clothing. “Help! Someone help us!”
Three people in scrubs rush over and roll El onto his back. His face is ghostly pale. A man puts two fingers on the hollow between El’s neck and jaw, then nods at his companions. “Weak, but he’s got a pulse.” He looks up at me. “I’m sorry, but you need to let us help him.”
I watch as they gather him up in their arms and take him away to a spot deeper in the tunnel. I’m on my hands and knees. The gravel bites into my shins and palms, which are already scraped raw by the window glass. Something warm drips onto the top of my hand and I look down.
Blood. Why is there blood? Sitting up to slump back against the wall, I reach up to my neck, my face. My fingers are clean after touching the older wound on my neck, but when I reach my hairline, they come away bloody. A wave of dizziness washes over me and I let my hand drop to brace me against the wall.
So much blood. So much death. Why? Two decades and they never found the community. Why now? How? How many lives gone? Tears join the sticky blood as I stare toward the small circle of light which marks the tunnel’s end. I have never known death. I’ve never witnessed anything like this. Yes, school taught us about wars and genocides, but it never quite seemed real. There is a vast difference between watching old pictures play on a screen in a white wall, and actually being there.
The echoing impacts of the missiles play in my mind, and the shuddering as the building entered its death throes. I can still smell the smoke, feel the heat of the fires as the breezes tease the shimmering air across the open ground. I can feel the grit and the sharp edges of the concrete beneath my feet, and the sun beating on my shoulders as we run to the tunnel.
My dress. My dress is ruined. A sob catches in my throat as I straighten my legs in front of me. Today was the first time I had the courage to wear something beautiful. The bright yellow dress extends to my calves, but the hem is now ragged and covered in soot. The straps are the width of my wrists, but one is broken and dangles against my chest. My hair has blood and dirt matted in it. All I can see of my feet is covered in mingled red and black. Everything is ruined.
As despair crashes through my mind in growing waves, I stagger to my feet. I have to help. I have to help them. Can’t just sit here. Must help. Must…
The last thing I remember is the gravel approaching at a rapid pace, and people around me yelling as the world fades into darkness.
***
When I wake, either it’s dark outside or they’ve moved me so far down the tunnel that I can’t see the exit. Someone has laid me on a thin blanket spread over the gravel, and a bandage wrapped around my head puts pressure on the gash. Around me, all is quiet but for the sounds of breathing and children whimpering.
I push myself up to a sitting position, more carefully this time. I learned my lesson last time. Passing out doesn’t help anybody. Someone else is lying on the blanket next to me. Their back is to me and the strap of an oxygen mask runs around the back of their head through short-cropped hair. Their breathing is steady, but I can hear the wheeze with each exhale. The only light is a lantern that’s been placed in the center of the track a couple dozen feet away.
Looking to the left, I find woman I don’t recognize there. She’s on her back with her eyes wide open and she’s staring at the brick ceiling. She doesn’t show any sign of hearing me when I move. Her chest is still...too still…
“Miss? Are you okay?” When she doesn’t respond, I reach out and touch her arm.
It’s cold and rigid.
She’s dead. No, no that can’t be right. They wouldn’t just leave a dead person here like that. They would have helped her. Why didn’t they help her? She’s not even wounded! She looks fine. How is she dead?
Someone must hear my breathing as my brain winds itself into a panic, because they come running across the gravel and kneel next to me. It’s Kara.
“Alyss, it’s all right. You’re okay. Hey.” she tries to catch my gaze, but I can’t stop looking at the dead woman beside me. “What’s wrong?” her head turns to follow my line of sight, and then she bows it and pinches the bridge of her nose. She sighs. “Not another one.”
I glance at her face, searching her eyes for an explanation. There is nothing there but grief and exhaustion. Without another word, Kara rises to her feet and walks to the woman. She takes the blanket, which lies around the woman’s legs and pulls it up to cover the pale face. Then she returns to me. “It’s okay, Alyss. We’ll move her. I’m sorry.”
“What...what happened?”
Kara shakes her head. “Smoke inhalation probably, or internal bleeding. The trauma of the blasts…” she makes a visible effort to stop herself. “I’m sorry. You don’t need to know the details, Alyss. Just know that she’s at peace now.”
I lift my tearstained face to meet her gaze. “Is she? Is she okay now?”
“I like to think so. Rest now, Alyss. We’ll move her body soon. Please, try to rest.”
She walks away, her shoes crunching on the gravel. Though I force myself to lay down, the rocks beneath me are uncomfortable, and even though I face the living man beside me, I cannot suppress my awareness of the corpse which lies behind. My skin shivers as if I’m going to feel her cold hand on my shoulder at any moment. In the dark and the haze of pain and fear, anything seems possible, and every shadow seems to be a monster or a Society machine waiting to destroy us all.
I draw the thin blanket over my head and try to slow my breathing. It does nothing except quiet the sound of my breaths until I can hear everything else around me. Mothers sob over lost children, babies scream, people groan and wail in pain.
There is no escape from any of it. No hope. No idea of what comes next, or whether we have a fool’s chance of survival. We have lost our home...I have lost a place I had only begun to love. The rest of them have had their whole world cruelly ripped away from them.
Why? Why is the Society doing this? What do they hope to accomplish? Are we really that much of a threat? Is it really necessary to commit genocide to keep their secrets? Why? What logic could cause this?
But there’s no answers, only the sounds of a broken and battered people who have had their world ended in a matter of moments.
Darkness stretches on without end as I lay on the gravel until my muscles cramp from the discomfort and my stomach aches with hunger. I don’t bother moving. There’s no point. Nobody knows what’s going to happen, and I’m too weak to help fix anything. Someone will come check on me at some point, or bring me food, or come take away more bodies of people whose organs failed because of shockwaves and smoke.
The man in front of me groans and rolls onto his back. Th
e oxygen mask looks almost like a gas mask as it points toward the ceiling, with the filtering apparatus and the little canister of liquid attached to the bottom. My mind dredges up random bits of information on how they work, but then the fragments slip away and I can’t catch them. As I watch the man, my stomach tightens in fear when I see his eyes flutter open and he stares at the sky just like the woman. When he reaches up to pull the mask off of his face, I let out the breath I didn’t realize I was holding. My relief deepens when I realize it’s El. He blinks at me groggily. “Alyss? What happened?”
“You collapsed. I guess I did too... and we both got moved here.”
El grimaces and groans as he slowly lifts his arms and positions them to push himself upright. “Ugh.” He presses the heel of his hand against his eyes. “I think my head’s about to split open. Are you okay?”
“I...I think so.” As if my mental injury assessment reminded my feet of their wounds, they throb with pain. I grab my ankle and bring my foot over my opposite knee, then cringe when I see the blood-stained bandages which encase the sole. It looks like someone washed off the worst of the dirt. I wish I could remember who, so I can thank them. When I peel back the bandages to look beneath, expecting to see very little flesh left, I sigh with relief when I find only shallow wounds. They’re going to smart for a while, but they shouldn’t keep me from walking.
