Under a Broken Sun

by Kevin P Sheridan

  “Where’s Tolbert?” I shouted. Normal voices wouldn’t work now. A chunk of wall landed in front of us like a rock dropped by a giant, shaking the ground. “Where’s Tolbert?” I shouted again. Tommy and Louie looked at me – no idea. Probably playing Captain America. Fuck him.

  Ashley looked up at me. “You need to find him,” she said. “He may be hurt.”

  “I’m not leaving. It’s too dangerous. He’ll hook up with us.”

  The vibrations grew into floor shattering shakes. Tile broke in two around us and pointed up as the ground slammed into itself and pulled apart. Ashley didn’t give me the doe eyes, she gave me the ‘how fucking inhuman are you’ eyes. That hurt. I stuck my head out from under the stairwell and saw Tolbert directing traffic. With his uniform on, he was drawing everyone’s attention.

  “Tolbert!” I shouted. I put everything I had into it and still felt like I was whispering. “Tolbert!” I yelled again. He turned and looked at me. I pointed under the stairs. Rocks and wall fell around him like rain. He held his arm over his head and ran towards me.

  I crawled back under the stairwell and Tolbert climbed over the chunk of wall that partially blocked his way.

  I helped him through just as another chunk of ceiling, wall, and construction debris crashed on top of the wall that held Tolbert a second ago. It kicked up a ton of dust – we had to turn our heads and hold our breath while we pushed further under the stairwell. Only a dim ray of light shone through the cracks.

  We were trapped. But alive.

  The earth stopped moving underneath. “How long was that?” I asked.

  “Ten minutes, maybe?” Tommy responded.

  “Everyone ok? Tommy? Ashley? Tolbert? Louie?” I could hear Louie crying. Ashley pulled him close and held him.

  “It’s over.” She said.

  “No, it’s not,” Louie replied. I knew what he meant, and he was right. The earth was changing, evolving into something else and at a very rapid pace.

  One small sliver of an opening remained in front of us. We could fit through one at a time. I looked through it, and saw a pile of girders and ceiling tiles. A silver sink leaned on top, then slowly tumbled down a girder with a metallic clank.

  “Follow me,” I said.

  We crawled out of the rubble and stood in the lobby of what used to be a hotel. Rain poured down in one exposed corner, where the building had been ripped in half. Exposed pipe lines sprayed fountains of water, flooding the debris-covered floor. Water mixed with dust from the walls.

  People, like the walking dead, slowly emerged from cover and stood upright. A woman in a business suit stumbled in her red high-heels. Cries of help echoed all around us like surround sound in a theater. It felt like a theater – unreal, the mind unable to comprehend the fact that this was really happening, really going on in front of us. It made the airport seem trivial.

  I walked forward, not sure what to do. We had to get out of there. Tolbert leaned down to help a woman up. But what to do with her? She wasn’t hurt – just lost.

  “We can’t leave them all,” Tolbert said.

  I turned to look at him. His eyes were wide, holding back tears. “We can’t save them all, either,” I replied, then walked on. Tommy climbed over a bed, following right behind me.

  “Wait up,” Ashley said. Tommy held out a hand to balance her.

  I turned and saw Louie looking between Tolbert and me. “You coming, Louie?”

  He paused, then followed behind Ashley.

  Tolbert stood, staring at the destruction. Another bathroom set dropped from the exposed third floor and exploded a mound of debris into dust below it. Tolbert turned and with his head low, followed us.

  19.

  Outside the world swirled in a quiet monsoon. Odd how nature can be so loud and yet the world still seems unnaturally quiet. Rain pelted steel, thunder roared overhead, but without the traffic, the constant of hum of tire on pavement. The noise.

  We walked along the cars on the highway, and came to a bridge that led up to a tunnel. Through the mist and rain we could see that the tunnel entrance had collapsed - a pile of rubble lay in front of it. To our right, two rivers merged into one farther up ahead.

  “Trapped,” I said to myself. The swollen river flowed rapidly away from us. I shouted to the others through the rain. “We’ll have to cross the bridge, see if we can get through that tunnel somehow. We have to get on the other side of the river, and it’s moving way too fast to swim.”

  “Negative,” Tommy said, pointing. “The ramp’s down. See?”

  I saw the gaping hole where the road led up to the bridge. I squatted down staring at the highway. “Goddammit.” I studied the bridge. There had to be a way up it.

  “Wait,” Tommy said, pointing to a ladder on the side of the bridge. “We can climb up that.”

  “That’s almost underwater,” Ashley said.

  Tommy squinted at it. “Can’t be that much underwater. The river’s a little swollen that’s all. Probably one a foot or two at the base of the ladder.”

  I saw what he was talking about. “Let’s give it a shot.”

  Five minutes later we were in three feet of water at the base, looking up at a fifty foot, slippery climb.

  I went first. Rung after rung, each one slippery, but not terrible. Still, the wind and the water in my eyes made it slow going. I looked down and saw Ashley following behind me.

  Halfway up, my foot slipped, and my heart shot up through my throat. I caught my breath, blood rushing through my body at ten times the normal speed.

  Ten feet left. Pulling myself up over the top of the ladder the bridge presented yet another challenge: the gate in front of the ladder was locked. So now, as the ladder ended, I had one more climb over the fence.

  I put a foot in the wire fence, lifted myself over, and then down. A small drop, but nothing horrible. Ashley’s ass waved in front of me as she lowered herself down.

  Louie followed.

  The earth trembled. Aftershocks. Big aftershocks. I looked up river, and a small tidal wave barreled down on us. The trembling got worse. “Tolbert, Tommy, c’mon!” I saw Tommy appear at the top of the ladder, then climb the fence. Cars began bouncing on the bridge, like those hot rod cars that bounce and down. I climbed the fence and saw Tolbert nearly at the top of the ladder. “C’mon!” I shouted. I heard rocks and boulders tumble down the cliff in front of us.

  Tolbert lost his footing completely, hanging to the ladder with both hands, feet wildly searching for a hold. I reached over the fence. “Give me your hand.” He climbed another couple of rungs, unsteadily, then reached up to my hand. I pulled him up to the fence. Pieces of bridge started dropping off into the river below. He practically jumped over the fence, landing with a neat tuck and roll.

  The bridge was collapsing. “We gotta run,” I yelled, pulling Ashley away from the bridge girder she clung to.

  "I FUCKING HATE BRIDGES," she shouted back. Tommy wrapped his arms around her. She looked up at him.

  “I’ve got you,” he said, leading her forward.

  We dodged around collapsing holes in the bridge, in between cars that now tilted as the bridge twisted from side to side - first we were up, then down, running in a loud, crumbling fun house.

  Then the middle of the bridge dropped like it was made of playing cards. We stopped at the edge, waiting for the fall. “Adam,” I heard behind me. Louie grabbed my shirt and spun me around. One of the cars on the bridge was towing a slick looking motor boat – probably off to fish somewhere - a vacation plan that never happened. It had a top level and canopy over the back. Perfect.

  “Everyone climb in. Tolbert, help me disengage it.”

  We ran to the boat, Tommy helping Louie and Ashley climb unsteadily into the boat. Tolbert and I released the chains holding it to the carrier. The bridge cracked down the middle. “Push it off, backwards,” Tolbert shouted.

  “What? Why?”

  “So we don’t land on the trailer! Do it!” Tolbert and I slid
e the boat backwards with everything we had. The crack in the bridge grew wider. The boat teetered halfway on its trailer. A few more pushes and it began to move on its own. Tolbert jumped inside. “Lay flat,” he yelled to the others, “and hold on to something bolted down.” The bridge fell away and the truck in front of me disappeared downward, pulling the trailer with it, leaving only the boat.

  Tolbert popped up and held out his hand. “C’mon!” He screamed. I climbed the ladder in one leap just as the boat lurched forward. The bridge was folding underneath me. I swung myself up over the boat edge and climbed in the front, under the steering column.

  “Hang on!” I yelled. The boat lurched forward again, and then, with a low rumble, we fell. Gravity did a double switch as the nose of the boat point down but I felt myself drift up. The boat leveled out with the weight of the motor and the bodies in the back. I felt the nose pick up.

  We slammed into the water. My insides compressed like a pancake, then expanded again, taking the wind out of me. Chunks of concrete landed around us, but the river instantly began to pull us away from the debris. Water splashed over the edge as we drifted, first sideways, then pointing the in the right direction, a bizarre type of white water river rafting.

  I snuck up from under the steering column and looked around. I counted three others.

  Louie.

  “Where the hell is Louie?” I shouted over the storm. “Where is he?”

  We stood up, looking over each side of the boat. “There,” Tolbert yelled. Louie was following us, face down and backwards, his foot caught on a long water-ski rope. He wasn’t moving.

  Tolbert was about to jump in when I stopped him. “No,” I said. “Then we’d have to go after you too. Pull him in.” All four of us pulled as the boat bounced from side to side, spinning. Louie was getting closer, bobbing like an inflatable raft.

  Tolbert stepped out onto the ski platform behind the boat. “Closer,” he shouted back to us. “Keep going.”

  Louie’s ankle was just within reach. Tolbert went to grab it, just as a wave rocked the boat again. Tommy grabbed Tolbert’s shirt. “Got him,” Tolbert shouted. With a grunt he lifted Louie up and handed him over to us.

  Inside the boat, all of us, finally. Tolbert reached down and started pumping Louie’s chest. I bent over his mouth, trying to recall the CPR training I had five years ago. Fingers plugging the nose, open the mouth – “GO!” Tolbert yelled. Go? Breathe! Shit.

  I blew into Louie’s mouth, his wet lips slipping against mine. Tolbert pumped in a steady rhythm. Counting. Ashley held Louie’s hand. “Tommy, steer!” I pointed to the steering wheel. Tommy climbed over us and went up to the top level. Soon the boat stopped spinning and pointed straight. But the storm wasn’t letting up. “GO!”

  I breathed into Louie’s mouth again, watching his chest rise. The boat dipped way to the left, then to the right, as the waves lifted then dropped us. “Tommy! Straighten it out!” I yelled.

  “It’s not as easy as it looks,” he shouted back. The current pushed us along at a clip that would’ve made a great amusement park ride.

  Louie coughed up water into my face. “Roll him,” Tolbert yelled. I helped put Louie on his side, and he promptly barfed up a shit-ton of water. Another hack, and he was moving on his own. Ashley laughed. Tommy yelled back “He ok?”

  “Yeah,” I said, laughing out of fear, adrenaline, and relief. “He’s ok.” I went to the front of the boat. “You got this?”

  “I can barely fucking see,” he said.

  A tree shot up out of nowhere. We drifted too close to the edge of the water. “Watch it!” I shouted as I grabbed the wheel from Tommy and yanked it to the right. The boat dipped hard and spun almost a hundred eighty degrees.

  Another dip. Water poured into the boat, all over Louie. I heard Tolbert behind us tell Ashley to get him up. Tommy got the boat pointing straight again, but the rain pelted us and stung our eyes with water. We slammed into the hood of a car and barely dodged a telephone pole. We came upon islands that left little room for mistakes. The river split into two and a patch of trees stood directly before us.

  “Left or right?” Tommy asked. Why would he ask that? Pick one! “LEFT OR RIGHT?” he shouted.

  “Right!” He turned the wheel hard. It wasn’t enough. The trees grew larger as the boat flew towards them.

  “HARDER!” I said, helping him turn the wheel. The boat listed to the right, taking on more water. If it were a car on concrete we’d be screeching tires.

  “C’mon!” I grunted to the boat, as if it would try harder because I told it to. Right in front of the fork in the river now. The boat turned. We bumped a tree hard on the left, got knocked on our ass, but made it around the island. The current flowed more in control.

  I sat on a chair facing backwards and sucking in air. I felt light headed. Headache. I watched Ashley cradle Louie’s head in her arms. But I could barely breathe. Holy shit, I thought. I'm turning into a wheezer.

  PART III - AUGUST

  Columbus

  You stay here, I'll go look for guns.

  I think I know where they've hidden some.

  'Cause if a tiger comes one night

  We won't go without a fight.

  20.

  We drifted along the river for three or four days like Tom Sawyer on the Mississippi. Thank god the boat had a canopy or we would’ve fried. We found its winter cover under the back deck which we put on over the deck during the day. We’d crawl under the cover like vampires, sleep fitfully in the stifling heat, and wake up at dusk. I rarely slept.

  The rain that swept through here left the air thick with humidity. My lungs worked overtime just to draw breath in and out. The fear of becoming a crazy air-sucking zombie crept around my mind constantly.

  At night, the temperature dropped lower to the high twenties, a swing of what seemed like a hundred degrees. We alternated between extreme boredom, terror, and frozen asses.

  Once the storm ended I broke out my army backpack and emptied the contents on the boat floor. We had enough provisions to last us maybe five days, but I'd have to ration the water-logged food very carefully.

  After four days in the sun things began to dry out. The boat stretched maybe eighteen feet, but it didn't provide nearly enough room for five people to sleep in. And throwing the cover over us just crushed us down even more.

  Today, like the previous four days, I woke up before anyone else. I reached up and untucked the cover, lifting it slowly over my head revealing the dark purple sky at dusk. I broke out my soaked and swollen book and sat in the corner to read another page or two. Kerouac’s character Sal had just made it to Denver in search of Dean Moriarity. A man on a mission to find his soul mate: the man with the answers. Like me with my dad. Just not the soul mate part.

  It's hard to hate your dad. You really have to work at it, because it doesn't feel right, and there's always a moment that pops up, like at the foot of the forest when I was ready to pull the trigger. Your mind throws a moment out there like a life preserver when all you want to do is drown. Kerouac summed it up perfectly: "Isn't it true that you start your life a sweet child believing in everything under your father's roof?" Yeah, it's true. Then you grow up, and the bullshit peeks out behind the peeling paint. But your mind still clings to that life preserver, ready to toss it whenever you need it. Whether you want it or not.

  Tolbert sat down next to me on the boat floor and let out a yawn. “What’s that?” he asked.

  I showed him the book. “On the Road. By Jack Kerouac. Ever read it?”

  His brow furrowed, like he had heard of it before. “No. Never.”

  I offered it to him. “You can read it if you want.”

  He stood up to walk to the front. “No thanks.” He climbed over the side and sat crossed legged on the bow lowering his head.

  I followed him, nervous. Praying? “What’re you doing?” I asked.

  He looked around at me and smiled. “Relax, man. Not everyone who prays is your enemy, o
k?”

  I sighed and sat down on the cherry red, sticky plastic seat and watched. Prayer made no sense to me. I prefer to talk to people, not ghosts. My dad would've told him to knock it off, and then gotten into a big debate. But I always just had three rules about religion: don't try to convert me, don't try to discount me, and don't think you own me. You live your life that way and I won't care if you worship a pile of dog shit.

  Ashley came up behind me and rummaged through my backpack for a bottle of water. She took a sip and passed it to me. I took a sip. “Sleep ok?” I asked.

  “Oh yeah. Just perfect.” She replied, stretching her back and shoulder. “Where are we?”

  I broke out the tattered, flimsy map from my backpack, unfolding it on the boat dashboard. “See that curve up ahead?” I asked.

  She squinted to see, holding her hand over her eyes. “Yeah,”

  “I think that’s this turn here, at the southeastern base of Ohio. We’re getting closer to your home ground."

  She nodded, looking away.

  “We don’t have to if you don’t want to,” I said, folding up the map.

  She changed the subject. “How’s the arm?” she asked. The scar had formed and the bandage fell off. I preferred to heal it through the air anyway.

  “Good,” I said, rubbing the red scab. “How about you?”

  She rubbed the back of her head. “Head still hurts a little, but the shoulder’s better.”

  We heard a splash. I shot up, looked around. Tolbert, Louie, Ashley…

  “Tommy!” I shouted.

  Tommy’s head popped up from the river. “What?”

  I flopped back down into the seat. “Jesus, don’t do that,” I said.

  “Gotta shower sometime,” he said, then dove back underwater. Louie grabbed the water bottle from me and took a swig.