They crossed a large five-way intersection and stopped at the edge of a city park. Jim put the girl down and collapsed on the grass. They were all out of breath, including the little girl, who cried hysterically the entire time.
Out of instinct Jim had taken them to the first patch of open ground he saw. Taking a moment to look around, he realized it was the smartest thing he could have done. Though the power was out, moonlight and the headlights from dozens of cars showed him enough to know the city hadn't fared well.
The air hung hazy from dust and smoke thrown up by the building collapse. Likely one of many. He pulled off his dress shoes and put on the sneakers. Grateful the swim trunks had pockets he tucked away his money, wallet, and keys.
Out of habit he checked his cell phone. Just as he suspected, it searched for a signal. To conserve battery power, he turned it off.
They were coughing from the increasing clouds of dust. He needed to get them out of there quickly. Since the hotel sat in the downtown area, he knew from the drive in, a hospital stood nearby.
Only a few blocks away, if he remembered correctly before he exited the highway. He pulled his t-shirt over his nose and mouth and did the same for the little girl. He helped the blind man but flinched at the blood soaked shirt and stepped back.
"Cover your face. There's a lot of dust and smoke in the air," Jim said.
"Sorry, amigo, I'm not used to this not seeing thing."
"I think there is a hospital nearby. We should head there."
"Where are we?"
"At the edge of the park across the big intersection from the hotel."
"Ah, okay. I remember seeing one on my way into town the other day."
“Me too. I think it was over in this direction.”
Jim took each of their hands and led them through the stopped traffic and debris to the hospital. He had a strange sensation having thick stubby rough fingers of a man he didn't know in one hand and the tiny, soft supple fingers of a child he didn't know in the other.
It wasn't difficult to find the hospital, even through the haze, as its emergency generators had it partially lit up. Part of the building had been damaged but enough was intact and functional.
Ambulances, unable to go anywhere due to blocked traffic and debris, set up a triage area in the parking lot. A handful of dazed people were streaming in. Jim spotted a nurse with blond hair pulled back in a ponytail, wearing light blue scrubs who looked to be in charge. He led his little group to her. She directed some aides and EMTs and did not acknowledge them right away.
"Miss?"
"Yes, sir, how can I help you?" she replied sounding more like a store clerk than a nurse. It seemed as if she didn't notice they were bloody and dust covered.
"Well, my friends here are in need of a little medical attention."
"All right then. Just head on down to that gurney on the end and have a seat. Someone will be with you as soon as possible."
For some reason Jim felt annoyed. He realized they were in the midst of a horrible earthquake and god only knew what else. She was obviously busy, but, it was more the nonchalant way she seemed to react. The man bled out of his eyes for heaven's sake! Though he supposed that as a nurse she had probably seen worse and would likely see worse again tonight.
Since they were among the first there it didn't take long for the blind man, Jose Ruis, to be seen by a doctor. Whether or not he would have the surgery he needed anytime soon was an entirely different matter.
The little girl lay on the gurney under a blanket staring into the distance. She didn't seem willing or able to answer any questions. He gave the nurse and then a police officer whatever information he had, which wasn't much.
Jim managed to get a crappy cup of instant coffee and a pair of scrub pants. Nobody had much in the way of information. Some people claimed to have seen and incredible meteor shower before the quake. Some people thought perhaps they had been nuked. Jim had a pretty good idea what had happened, but he wasn't sharing his "insider" knowledge.
He realized he had no idea where his car was and with all of the building collapses, he presumed had occurred, the chances it was still intact was slim. He grabbed a blanket and curled up in the back of an ambulance. The metallic bottom pressed hard and cold, but in his exhaustion he cared little.
He thought of his daughter and then Turnello. He hoped they were both alive. He realized how far from home he was. He'd never felt more alone in all his life.
His eyes clouded and he let out a ragged sigh. Turning back to the unreal scene outside, he began counting people but then found he couldn't bear to look at them. Instead he counted windows on the hospital building and despite his grief, he sank slowly into sleep.
Post Impact - Turnello - Morning, Tue Sep 3
Turnello woke to the sound of pounding on his front door. As he opened his eyes, he realized for the first time in recent memory he felt completely rested. Daylight streamed through the windows and other than the beating on the door there was an unusual quiet.
Looking around the room he noticed things were out of place. A knocked over lamp. Everything had shifted slightly. The pounding on the door continued.
"Turnello? Turnello, you okay?" came a muffled voice.
"Just a minute," he croaked, his voice thick with sleep. He sat at the edge of the bed and wiped the sleep from his face. Having slept in shorts, he padded to the door and noticed a pronounced crack running at an angle up the wall. What the... When opening the door, it scraped along the floor.
Outside stood Olga, his landlady who lived in the larger house next door. She looked rumpled and exhausted.
"Oh, Turnello, thanks god you okay," she blurted, in her Slavic tinged elderly voice.
"Olga? What's wrong?" he said yanking on the door handle, only managing to move it a few inches each time. "What the hell..."
"Don't tell me you sleep through all this?"
"Sleep through...what the hell is wrong with this door?" he said with gritted teeth.
"Turnello, you kidding me?" she chided. "You sleep through big earthquake?"
"Earthquake..." he felt his heart back flip and plunge into his stomach. He reached out and touched Olga's arm to make sure she was real. Fuck! Looking over her shoulder he saw a downed tree in his neighbor's yard. Oh fuck! He turned and his eyes frantically searched the room as if the stove just caught fire and he couldn't remember where the fire extinguisher was. Olga stepped into the cottage and looked around.
"Is terrible out there. I not see nothing like it since the war."
"Where is your daughter?" he asked, only half his mind processing, the other half in shock.
"Michele never come home from work last night. I hope she is okay," she paused. "Turnello, I not sure how long you stay here. I don't think house is safe."
"Huh? Why?"
She pointed to the crack running up the wall. "House is crooked."
"Oh," he said looking at the fractured line and rubbing his head as his mind raced. He thought through the dreams and tried finding clues in them as to what happened and what he should do.
"We not throwing you out, you understand? We just afraid house will fall," her voice cracked and she let out half a sob and then caught herself. Two thin tears ran down her pale wrinkled cheeks. "I am so worried..."
Her grief brought him back and he gave her a hug. He wanted to tell her it would be okay and they would make it through this but he couldn't bear to lie. Olga had seen more than her share of death and destruction in the war and was no fool. She had a good idea of what they were in for and it looked grim.
"If you have to leave and you have no place to go, you come stay with us."
"Thank you, Olga." He smiled. Amazing how times like this brought out either the best or worst in people. He had always felt sort of an affection for her. Now her kindness toward him truly touched his heart. "How are you fixed for food and water?"
"We okay. We have lots of cans. You know how I always like to buy on sale whether we need it o
r not." She laughed. "Michele always complain but I think she not going to complain now." She sniffled and wiped the tears from her face. Turnello laughed too and for a brief moment things almost seemed normal. "I better go. I don't know when she come back."
"Wait," Turnello said, "I will take a drive around and see if I can find her?"
"Turnello, I not think it good idea to drive any place."
"You're right, but I will take a drive anyway."
She looked at him with a mix of emotions. "Be careful," she said.
Despite all the dreams he'd been having for months, he felt completely unprepared for what he saw when he stepped out his door. The street had huge holes and cracks running both directions as far as he could see. That would explain the lack of sirens. Getting anywhere faster than a crawl would be impossible.
The front porch of his neighbor's house across the street tilted to one side looking like the house had taken a knee. An old poplar tree, maybe eighty feet tall, lay diagonally across the property. Missing the house, its end rested precariously on power lines some of which were dangling.
He heard the sound of a generator in the distance and a diesel engine. The air had an acrid smell and at various points in the distance, plumes of black smoke lifted straight into the air.
Olga was off again at a snail's pace back to her house. He felt a pang of guilt for not doing more for her, but in reality what could he do?
He watched her until she climbed her porch steps, and as he turned to go inside, he noticed his side neighbor's house. He could only see the top quarter of the structure over the shrubbery and noticed the chimney had snapped off at roof level and fallen through the center of the house.
From what he could see, the home looked like it could implode any moment. His own place looked like it had sunk slightly to one side. The siding had a bend in it and near the peak of the roof a crack had formed, breaking the place in two. A small part of the roof was collapsed into the attic.
Panic welled inside him. The enormity of the devastation and its implications were overwhelming. Why did he think he could prepare for this? The dreams served as a warning but there was nothing anyone could do for something like this.
What he experienced was just the beginning. Within a few days at most, stores would be empty and all the gas would be gone. People would begin to die of their injuries. How much food and water did most people keep in their homes? A week's worth? Maybe two? He had a comfortable six weeks' worth of food and maybe more if he rationed but then what?
His breathing shallowed and quickened. His heart pounded and his palms were sweaty. His mouth dry. A wooden creaking sound like someone climbing old stairs screeched through the air. Then stopped. Nothing seemed to have visibly moved.
He had absolutely no idea what to do. One thing he knew: if he allowed himself to panic, he was doomed. Decisions made in a terror were almost never right. He thought of the old AA adage "When in doubt, don't." So he sat on the lawn facing the house, closed his eyes, and consciously slowed his breathing.
He took long, deep, slow breaths to dissipate the panic. He must fight the enemy of fear. His mind began to settle and then quieted. His senses sharpen and became acutely aware of sounds, smells, and sensations around him.
A murmur of voices inside Olga's house came behind him. The side house, where the chimney had fallen, was deathly quiet.
The light breeze brought a variety of smells. Burning plastic. Smoke. Rotting leaves. He felt the weight of his body on his legs and his shins pressed into the grass. An ant crawled on his leg. He hadn't done this in quite a while and it felt good. He opened his eyes. What was the next right thing to do? In a flash the answer came to him. There was no time to waste.
Starting the walk home - Jim - Morning, Tue Sep 3
Dawn broke in an ashen gray gloom. The air lay heavy, damp and cool, much more like a November day than September.
Jim had already been walking for nearly an hour. He left the hospital parking lot as the faintest shift in the morning sky had begun. He snuck off without saying anything to anyone. He wasn't fond of goodbyes and wasn't sure if someone would try and stop him. With all the chaos he doubted anyone would even notice.
He paused for a moment, cinching the thin blanket tightly around him. He looked into the black and gray sky and then ahead at the interstate that lay at the top of an embankment. It stood on the other side of a six foot chain link fence. In the distance, he saw the top of a bridge that spanned the Delaware River.
It had taken almost an hour to walk the forty-two blocks to this point or was it forty-three? He lost count and gotten a little confused due to the poor light and debris he side-tracked to get around certain areas. At this rate it would take a week for him to walk home and quite probably longer. The way things were looking, he might very well be dead before then.
He managed to scrounge a half-liter bottle of water and three pieces of chewing gum before he left the inner city. He hoped to somehow acquire additional supplies along the way. Paper and plastic money were useless. His travel so far went through an industrial area. He prayed he'd come across a convenience store or gas station, but no such luck.
He decided to climb onto the interstate and make his way home for several reasons. First, he figured he'd see anyone coming a long way off. Second, as he moved through the city the highway gave him a vantage point that allowed him to see for miles.
Finally, even though traffic had been light due to the time of night the quake struck and area he was in, he was bound to come across abandoned vehicles which he might use for shelter, or find supplies in, or if he was lucky, borrow for the drive home.
He tried to muster the energy to scale the fence when he noticed the highway overpass farther up the street.
The lighting underneath seemed unusual. When he looked more carefully, he realized the roadway had partly collapsed creating a debris ramp to the highway above.
Relieved to not expend energy climbing, Jim headed toward the overpass with spirits lifted ever so slightly. He scrambled up the broken concrete and twisted metal with relative ease, snagging on rebar a few times in the process.
Once on the elevated highway, he paused and looked out on the city. What he saw made him wish he had kept his eyes on the roadway instead.
The devastation was indescribable. Jim swallowed hard and his heart sank. For the past eight hours, he had been in a state of numb shock and it just started to dissipate. Now the gravity of the situation began to sink in. Standing on the edge of this roadway, he felt on the edge of a cliff staring into the face of death.
A cold, damp wind kicked up and off in the west, black storm clouds moved rather quickly. He needed to find a car and soon. A car, any car, with even a few gallons of gas would mean the difference between hours of travel versus days of travel and that would mean life or death for him.
He popped a couple of pieces of chewing gum into his mouth and started walking. He hoped the sugar in the gum would give him a little energy boost but all it did was make him hungrier, even after he swallowed it.
The wind's ferocity increased and he heard a not-so-distant clap of thunder. Glancing over his shoulder, he noted the approaching storm looked, for lack of a better term, apocalyptic.
Fitting, considering the circumstances. His stomach had the feeling one might have on a roller coaster as it reached the crest of the final big hill and anticipated the coming plunge.
The clouds blew black and purple, lightning streaking from cloud to cloud and cloud to Earth. They rolled like dry ice fog in a bad horror movie. If this were a B movie, at this point he’d be the character who screamed, "We're all gonna die!"
Since he was alone, he picked up his pace. He couldn't outrun this storm and had no idea where he hurried toward until he saw it in the distance. A hatchback with two flat tires on the passenger side, sitting on the shoulder.
Large drops of dirty rain slapped at him, and if he wasn't so exhausted, he would have started running, but he could only muster a
fast walk. A hundred yards seemed like a hundred miles at that pace but he made it to the car as the rain started to pummel.
Relief flooded as he put his hand on the door, only to have that sphincter clench shut mid-stream when he realized it was locked. So was the rear door and the others. A small triangular window by the rear door, if broken, might allow him to reach in and unlock it.
He looked around for a rock or something to break the glass but found nothing. Of course he would be on the cleanest stretch of highway he had ever seen.
Desperation and panic started to take hold. He put the end of the blanket around his shoulders over the window. Taking a narrow stance he cocked his arm and tested slow punches.
He had plenty of experience with wood breaking in karate. Safety glass breaking was an entirely new thing. He let a punch fly and he heard a crack. Pain shot up his arm that made his eyes tear. He hoped the glass and not his hand broke.
He hit again and then once more. He moved the blanket to see the pane had begun to fracture. He put the blanket back up and switched hands, striking until it finally gave way. He reached in up to his shoulder and was just barely able to reach the lock.
He pulled the door open, brushed the glass off the back seat and climbed in. The rain pelted so hard he could barely see a few feet away.
His clothes were drenched and chilled, and his knuckles were bruised, both hands swelling. He lay on the seat in a cramped fetal position with one arm under his head and the other dragging the wet blanket over him. This was turning out to be one hell of a bad day.
Having a look around - Turnello - Morning, Tue Sep 3
Turnello had a lot to do and a limited amount of time. He must assess the situation as completely as possible. That meant doing a little recon. He also needed to take an inventory of his supplies and gear. The house seemed unstable so he should get all critical gear out of there.
A Bad Day Part 1 Page 5