Smooth

by catt dahman

  Far below, the mud and stone foundation soaked for over a week, shifted.

  Jake tried to get to his feet, but as the hotel shifted, a huge beam in the ceiling crashed down through the water-soaked plaster and wood, landing on Jake’s back with a loud snap. He flopped onto his side.

  He tried to move his legs to get traction but found that his legs, feet, and toes, nothing responded to his attempts to move them. Jake found he couldn’t move at all. His arms lay useless by his side. His fifth cervical vertebra was damaged, and had it been a little higher, he wouldn’t have been breathing.

  He tried to draw in a deep breath and yell for help but was only able to croak out a call that no one could hear.

  Rubble surrounded him, and he was partially buried, as were two rooms on his side of the building, along with those that they had avoided because of falling plaster. He didn’t know what would become of him now.

  Between the cracks and crevices, rain found its way from the roof to the ceiling of the room. Several drops fell across Jake’s nose and mouth. For a second he struggled, fearing the water, but then he realized he could give into it and fall into the useless, but pain free nirvana. He allowed himself to relax and accept.

  But more drops fell, and he snorted and spit the water out of his nose and mouth. He couldn’t breathe with the water filling his breathing passages.

  Trying to whip his head aside, he didn’t stop the next drops from flooding his breathing. For several seconds, he experienced the pain and horror of drowning, but then everything opened again, and he was able to grab several breaths.

  He should be changing by now.

  He was supposed to be staring into space, uncaring, unconcerned, and out of pain and fear. But drops followed, and again he chocked; then next, he suffered the painful drowning feelings.

  Jake was one of the few who were immune to the rain’s effects.

  He didn’t change and go smooth but lay in the room and suffered natural water boarding torture until he was quite insane.

  As the next drops began to fall, Jake watched them, eyes panicked, silently screaming. He screamed a very long time.

  Chapter 8

  “The floor is a few inches deep now,” Coral said. They sat in the lounge area that they also used as a kitchen. The room smelled horrible from unwashed bodies, the rotting dead, and stagnate water. He tried to remember fresh, clean, dry air.

  Lydia had given Sammy her own share of food so that the child’s stomach wouldn’t ache so badly. Sammy only rocked back and forth and cried. The extreme tilt of the hotel didn’t amuse her anymore, and the animals had lost their charm. Every day was hunger pangs, damp air, inside stink, and pinging rain on the roof and windows.

  Drip. Drop. Ping. Patter. Endless patter.

  “Tonight is the night,” Lydia said cryptically.

  Coral nodded. “Are you sure? Are you sure it needs to be now?”

  Dana wrote numbers in her notebook, “Two less. I can take the calories from here and move them…yes…yes, that’ll work.”

  “I’m sure. It’s time. Waiting isn’t going to give us a different outcome, so I might as well do it tonight. It doesn’t matter; Sammy is always hungry now.”

  “Maybe we could adjust the amount and give her more.”

  Lydia shook her head, as Dana looked worried about having to move the portions around again. “It worked for Oren, so it’ll work for us.”

  “We had to. We couldn’t keep feeding him and caring for him when…you know…he didn’t know who we were or he was, and he wasn’t even thinking or anything. He was a shell of a man.” Coral didn’t know why he was talking about it again.

  They had voted in favor of giving him the medicine and letting him slip away so that they had more food. No one was able to care for him all of the time, and he couldn’t do a thing for himself; he didn’t eat unless they told him to take each bite.

  Coral had handed Oren the cup {Oh, Socrates, drink this hemlock}. He had asked Oren to drink it and go to sleep. Oren, following the directions, swallowed every drop of the concoction the others had made. It was a drink with enough random things from the medicine they had left and liquor to knock out a moose, they thought.

  Coral sat with Oren until the man nodded off.

  Oren’s breathing went shallow, and his blood pressure dropped.

  After a little while, Pax and Dan helped Coral with Oren’s body as they rolled and tied it into a sheet for his shroud. He was given a sea burial as he was lowered into the water that kept rising.

  “What will people think? Will they see what we didn’t bring here and wonder why we didn’t adapt and survive? Will they think we could have done better?”

  “What people?”

  “The rain will stop, and the water will finally dry up even though it’ll take a long time. But they will come looking for more survivors and find that we were here a while.”

  Pax shook his head, “What people? Coral, where are they?”

  “They’re in buildings in places…cities…Little Rock. And there will be the military guys, and they’ll go to the small places such as this and look for people who adapted and survived. People were on ships. There are people alive.”

  “Just not here,” Pax saidi “It may be a year or more. Can you tell me anyway that we can get out of here and find some supplies? If you can, then let’s do it right now. Let’s go. Come on, Coral.” They had this argument several times a day now.

  “I wish I had a big bowl of warm chips and some salsa that would kick my ass. Maybe a cold Corona,” Coral dreamed aloud.

  “I can’t do this anymore,” Lydia said, “so, I’ll do like Oren did.” She went on as if there had been no interruption. “Goodnight. Come on, Sammy.”

  Annie hugged her, wiping tears away as she did so. Pax and Coral hugged them. When Lydia had said her goodnights to everyone, she took Sammy to their room.

  Lydia handed Sammy a glass, and she took a glass; they drank the cocktails, grimacing a little over the bitter taste. They lay down.

  “Is it done?” Annie asked. She was openly crying now against Pax’s shoulder as he patted her back.

  “Nope,” Gus said, “they’re both sleeping, but they seem to be kind of okay. Nothing is happening.” He checked every thirty minutes.

  “And?” Coral asked.

  “Sammy is hardly breathing, but Lydia, it isn’t happening like Oren.”

  “We had different stuff for Oren,” Coral said. “Are they gonna awake with their minds messed up from this but still alive? God, Dear God, what is going on here? It’s not supposed to be like this. Lydia wanted the pain to go away, and she wanted Sammy to quit hurting,” he cried with Pax and Annie.

  Dan stared out at the night, water dripping in streams, running down the glass.

  Dana counted cans of food and wrote in her notebook.

  Gus went to check on Lydia and Sammy again. When he returned, his face was pale, and he was clenching his teeth. “There, it’s done.”

  “The pills finally worked?” asked Annie as she wiped her face.

  “It’s just done. Okay?” Gus gripped the doorframe with one hand and closed his eyes tight for a second. No one asked anything else when he finally sat in a chair and lowered his face to cry into his hands for a long time.

  Coral and Pax went in and wrapped Lydia and Sammy together in sheets, ignoring their floppy necks that were obviously broken. They all stood together and let the bodies go into the water.

  Six remained.

  Chapter 9

  On the twelfth day, they lost two more of their group. Dan had a thought to get all the trash they could find and parts of the hotel and to make a boat to sail away on. Everyone watched as he worked on it for days, covering himself in baggies and letting everything dry out. When he was finished with his creation, it was little more than a small tub.

  “Put food and other supplies in there after you show me it’s sea worthy,” Coral told him, “I don’t want you doing this.”

 
“We should have all worked on a better one long ago and gotten out of here,” Dan said, “give me my share.”

  “No. If you don’t make it, we can use your part of the food and water,” Dana said as she scribbled in her notebook again. “I can get another two hundred calories here and then move a hundred to there….”

  “I want my share, Coral.”

  “Fine. Show me it’ll float, and you can have it,” Coral yelled back.

  Pax added, “It’s not gonna float, Dan, you idiot. You’re gonna go in the water, and there’s no sense in taking the food with you.”

  Dan yanked out one of the Glocks and pointed it at Pax, “Give me my share.”

  “If you shoot him, then I can take five hundred from there and move it….” Dana wrote feverishly.

  “Shut up,” Annie screamed at Dana, pushing her down.

  Dan used the distraction to leap at Pax who drew the Ruger 10/22 and fired it, hitting Dan in his shoulder. Dan yelped with pain as his shoulder was torn up. Cradling his hurt arm, Dan wrapped the bags and slickers around him tightly, and with the tarp over his head, got into his boat-tub.

  Coral angrily pushed him off, taking care to cover himself and to use a boot. Coral flung the wet bag to the side, and they stepped away, watching Dan.

  “He pulled a gun on me” Pax said quietly.

  “You didn’t have a choice. He was trying to take the food from us,” Coral responded, “he is crazy.”

  “I didn’t want to shoot him,” Pax said, “but he pulled a gun on me.”

  “It’s okay, Pax,” Annie said. She stood beside him, watching Dana sit on the floor where she had pushed her.

  The tub swirled out into the water, away from the hotel. Dan had a plan to float away and find a bigger group with better supplies and get them to come save the rest.

  Dan was about to be a hero. He thought to go back east, across where the bridge used to be, and then keep going east, always east. In time, he would then hit bigger buildings in a city and find help.

  He had to keep the tarp up to keep the tub and himself dry. It was hardly raining now, but he was having a difficult time getting the umbrella engaged and under the tarp to hold it aloft. If he had both arms, he would have been able to handle it, but Pax did something totally unexpected.

  Why had the man shot him? Dan only wanted his share of the food. He was afloat without food or water, and if he didn’t find help fast, he would be in terrible trouble. He also needed medical aid for his shattered shoulder, too.

  It was hurting something fierce.

  “He’s low, isn’t he?” Annie watched the little boat.

  “He wasn’t that low…yeah…he taking on water,” Coral stated, as he watched the tub sink lower, “he’s going down.”

  “Dan,” Annie called helplessly.

  Dan’s boat filled with water. His boots were covered. “You shot me, you bastard,” he screamed.

  He tried to get the boat under control and back to where the others were. He was going to rip Pax apart for shooting him, and then Coral was next for not giving him his food. Dana, he was sick of her notebook and incessant adding and subtracting. He would kill her, too.

  His boat went under.

  The rest watched Dan fight the water and then start swimming back to the railing. He would climb out and be there right next to them if he kept coming.

  “I told him he would have lost the food,” Coral said.

  “Yep. He’s pretty pissed off. Guess he’s mad I shot him.”

  Coral nodded, “I ‘spect so.”

  Dan was a dozen feet away, swimming with one arm but doing a great job of it as he snarled and growled, swallowing the filthy water as he came back. “Ahhhhhhghhhhhhh,” Dan screamed at Pax and Coral.

  “He’s going to attack as soon as he gets to the railing, and he’s wet; we can’t let him come back here.”

  “Nope. I hate to do it. I really don’t want to,” Pax said.

  Coral held a hand out. “Want me to?”

  Gus growled with an exasperated sound. “Damn, boys.” He grabbed the rifle and raised it. Two shots later, the surface of the water was red-stained, and Dan was gone. In disgust, Gus tossed the rifle into the water and watched it sink. “I’ve had my fill.”

  Pax chewed a carrot a long time that evening. He shifted the mashed vegetable around in his mouth and tried to taste all of the flavor. “Give Blackie a little more of the canned milk.”

  “It has had enough. It had its share.”

  “Give her my share then,” Pax told Dana.

  Dana narrowed her eyes and poured the rest of the milk into Blackie’s little bowl; the kitten purred delightfully. Pax closed his eyes and then reached forward to lay one hand on Blackie’s side so that he could not just hear the purring but also feel it. He took Annie’s hand and put her hand there on Blackie’s side.

  Annie smiled and the world lit up for Pax.

  “I want them to be okay,” Pax said, now leaning into Katie’s fur and rubbing his face along her muzzle; she licked him sideways and seemed to be grinning. Annie had brushed her for hours, and Katie’s fur shined and gleamed. “Who is a good Katie?”

  She woofed.

  “What are you doing?” Gus called out to Dana.

  “Leave me alone. There’s a can under that junk. I think the can has tomato soup.”

  “Under all that?” Gus asked.

  “I can get it. I just have to get over there and crawl down. Do you know how many calories that would add?”

  Gus snorted, “No, Do you?”

  Dana snapped back as she struggled over a pile of jagged glass, 3.14.

  “Get out of that,” Coral said.

  Dana kept climbing. At the top of the junk, she slid to the right. A sting on her leg made her squeak, and another few bee stings on an arm hurt, but then she was past the glass.

  “Oh.” Dana looked at her arm. Shards had gone in deeply, and as Dana removed each, blood poured out in rivers. It shouldn’t have been taken out unless someone was ready with surgery.

  “Let’s get something, and we’ll get you out, Dana. Be still. Can you catch some sheets and use them to bind those?” Coral asked. He didn’t like all the blood seeping out of Dana’s arm. Tossing strips to her, he watched her mind him and bind her arm wounds. She raised the injured arm in victory.

  “She’s a nut,” Gus declared.

  “She’s a nut who may have found some soup; imagine that tonight,” Coral said. His eyes were glazed as he was thinking of tangy tomato soup.

  “Catch, I found the mother-load,” Dana called to them. She used her good arm to toss cans. A can of tomato soup went flying to Coral who cheered. A can of pineapples went to Gus who used both hands to grab it. “Here, Coral.” He caught a can of chicken gravy.

  He was salivating.

  The area Dana was in had fallen apart. Trees had battered into the corner, the roof had leaked, and the old wood split when the foundation shifted, so Dana was in the midst of glass, jagged boards, beams, fallen plaster, and broken furniture and walls.

  Cans of food had rolled over sometime, and she was grabbing it all. A small can of green chilies went flying, a can of stewed tomatoes, three old, stale pastries, a can of chicken and dumplings, and finally, a box of macaroni and cheese that wasn’t too beat up. “What we have now is 3.141592635. Rain, rain go away, 3.14,” Dana muttered to herself.

  “I have frogs in my bugles,” Pax responded.

  “Spaghetti in my cake,” Coral quipped, remembering how a thousand years ago, a man named Ed had killed his family in Coral’s diner and talked crazy. It had been forever ago.

  Dana used a piece of cloth and tied her notebook to a plastic packet that looked like a pastry mix for pizza crust or a muffin mix. She tossed it close to the rubble. “That’s mine.” She needed both hands to crawl back onto the big pile of junk.

  “Your leg.”

  Dana frowned and looked down. One of her legs was awash in blood. A shard had gotten her, right near her female
privates on her thigh. Blood was really pouring.

  Dizzy. Dana leaned against a board. She had to climb up and out. She was freezing cold all over and tired. Maybe if she rested a second. She rarely cut herself or anything before, but when she had, she knew she bled badly, and someone had said that could be serious. It was more rare in females than in males, but she was almost a hemophiliac.

  Dana couldn’t really feel her body anymore. She slumped to the bottom of a pile of rubble, smacking her head on a brick and scraping her neck on a rough, broken board.

  “Bled out. Wow,” Gus said. He collected the bag and the little notebook tied to it. Throwing the notebook to Annie, Gus added the packet. {It was blueberry pancake/muffin mix} to the rest of what Dana had tossed over. “I want that, looks good. Mmmm Gravy. Nice catch, Coral.”

  Annie opened the notebook, curiously.

  3.14159 26535 89793 stop raining: creamed corn, 23846 26433 83279 stop raining: pinto beans, 50288 pasta, 41971 69399 rain, rain go away, 37510 58209 come again no other day 74944 59230 stop raining, 78164 06286 stop raining 20899 86280, chili beans stop raining, 34211 70679.

  “She wasn’t all there,” Annie said, holding out the notebook.

  “I want some of the blueberry mix, too,” Pax said. “Can we make the tomato soup tonight, Coral?”

  “I think that’s a fine idea.”

  “Oh, add the stewed tomatoes in it. It’ll go further and be good.” Annie wiped her chin where she drooled. She was so hungry.

  She hugged Katie.

  Annie pretended she was rubbing the dog and petting her, but deep in her mind, she was figuring how much fat the dog had on her.

  Chapter 10

  “Make sure I can’t see you if I look back,” Gus said.

  That was all he said. During the mid-day meal, Gus refused food, sharing his portion instead. He didn’t say much. He just sat and drank a bottle of whiskey, sipping it, and enjoying the burn. No one knew what he had in mind because he wouldn’t elaborate; he just said he would be leaving soon as if a spacecraft might appear and take him away.

  They heard a splash and peeked out the glass to see what Gus was doing.