by J. D. Laird
The leathery hands then let go and Gabriel’s father takes a step back. Gabriel has seen his father fire the revolver before. His father has taken him to this place with his father’s buddies. A juniper tree stands fifty paces away. Dangling from it are an assortment of rusted cans, plates and unrecognizable shapes. Through each hanging object are several bullets holes. Gabriel focuses now on one aluminum can. It is a sienna-painted cylinder that hangs off to the side on an isolated branch. Gabriel feels his small finger touch the trigger. Sweat is accumulating in his palms so he grips the handle tighter.
“Nice and slow.” His father whispers behind him. Something he has told him when he will sometimes let Gabriel practice driving before he put his foot on the accelerator. “Remember to breathe out as you pull the trigger.” Another reminder from his father. Gabrielle exhales as he tightens the muscles in his finger.
Bang! The sound is deafening and the jerk from the barrel is violent. Gabriel reels backwards as the gun flies up and over his head. He nearly falls on his butt but his father is there to catch him. The older man then rests his son against his knee and grabs Gabriel’s arms pushing them down so the gun points at the ground. Gabriel’s father is laughing.
For a moment Gabriel’s heart feels like it has stopped, but when he looks up at his father’s face and hears the roar of his laughter he can feel it start up again. His father is pointing at something now. Gabriel follows his father’s finger with his eyes. He sees a lone can on the end of a branch dancing back and forward on a string. Peering more intently Gabriel thinks he sees a hole in the can that hadn’t been there before. He too begins laughing and his father holds him to his chest.
Back in the gutter between the two city buildings, Gabriel flips the ammo cylinder of the revolver closed. He reflects on one final thing he father had said when he had fired his first weapon, “Never point a gun at something you don’t intend to kill”. This revolver had no ammo.
The man without a head had wanted to kill something. He had emptied seven rounds before saving the last bullet for himself. Gabriel hopes he doesn’t have to find out for who or for what those other rounds had been meant for. Just in case he tucks the empty revolver into his overalls pocket.
Then, as if a lightning bolt had strikes Gabriel’s brain, Gabriel is immediately reminded of something. The thoughts of his father have jarred something loose. It is something important. Something that had been pushed aside by all the mysteries that had been so overwhelming. Gabriel feels sick to his stomach. A sickness not just because of the hunger, the smell of urine or the dried blood. He feels sick for not thinking of those special somethings earlier. For being distracted.
Gabriel hates himself for not thinking immediately of his children.
8 Madison
With each cough Madison can feel her lungs releasing the dense collection of dust that clogs them. As oxygen exchanges places with molecules of dirt Madison can feel her head getting clearer. The screams that she had heard earlier are now distant moans. All except one.
Something grabs her leg.
The darkness is nearly pitch black. Madison frantically kicks blinded at what has grabbed at her. She scurries away across the ground while still being careful to keep her head low should a precarious boulder be overhead. She kicks with her opposite leg at whatever is holding onto her ankle. A scream follows and the something lets go.
“Damn it! It’s me!” A familiar voice says. The sound is muffled by pain.
It is Dale. Lt. Trevers, Madison corrects herself. “Sorry.” She says. She spins herself around in the dark mindful of the sounds of shifting rock all around her. “Are you alright?”
“Not really.” He is grimacing. Madison can’t see his face but she can tell by the timber of his voice.
“Oh, come on.” She coughs up a cloud of dust from her lungs. “I didn’t kick you that hard.”
“Not that.” He snickers. “It’s my leg. Here.” Out of the dark a light flicks on and Madison can see Lt. Trever’s face. It is covered in dirt. His glasses have been thrown off by the cave-in. There are trails of tears on his cheeks where the water from his eyes have washed away the dust. In his hand he holds a small flashlight. “I got this out of that electrician’s bag we brought down.” He hands the light to Madison.
Madison spins the flashlight around to look at Lt. Trevers with the beam. He covers his eyes as the light shines on his face. “Easy now.” He says, covering his eyes with one hand. Madison can see past him now. There is a large collection of boulders that have come down on top of one of his legs. Beyond him there is nothing but rock. Everyone else in the corridor has been buried. Only the two of them survived.
“Stay right there.” Madison says reassuringly. She checks over her own body with the light. She feels a wave of relief when she finds only a few superficial scrapes and bruises. “I’ll be right back. I’ll get help.”
Using the small cone of light Madison assesses the scene. The majority of the cave-in is behind her. Back down the corridor where most of the technicians had been working there are only large boulders. Near the stairs where Madison had been the structure is still mostly intact. Where Madison sits she has a clearance of at least four feet overhead where the boulders have gotten jammed together. The rocks create an uneasy ceiling above her. Madison rises to her knees. She tests them to make sure there are no unseen injuries. Again she is grateful that she has managed to survive the collapse unscathed.
Crawling on her hands and knees, Madison nears closer to the stairs. What she finds is that access to the upper levels has been blocked by a wall of rock. Madison shouts for help. Her voice is met only by her own echo. She is trapped and with no means of communication.
As she passes her light over the stairs she catches the reflection of something under the stairwell. Edging closer she notices the grating covering the tunnel of a narrow ventilation shaft. Crawling closer she waves her hand over it and smells the air coming from the vents. It smells fresh and there is a slight breeze. At the very least Madison won’t suffocate.
Making her way back to Lt. Trevers, Madison catches him with his head cradled in his elbow. “Wake up!” She shouts and he immediately shifts. He pulls his head up and looks back at her with wide-eyes. He looks like a deer paralyzed by headlights.
“Did you find anything?” He says, waking from his momentarily daze.
“A ventilation shaft. There’s air still flowing through it.” Madison rests her back against the crumbling wall of rock and curls her legs into a ball to conserve space.
“Good. So we won’t suffocate. That just leaves starving, dehydration, or-” He pauses, wincing in pain. “Me going into shock.”
Madison rises up off the ground slightly surveying the area where the boulders have smashed Lt. Trever’s leg again. There is a heavy pile of boulders covering up his left leg just below the knee. She can’t tell how extensive the damage is. She makes a move to shift some of the rocks to get a better look but Lt. Trever’s grabs her wrist. “Don’t.” He says.
“Maybe I can move them.” Madison snaps, pulling her wrist free. “Maybe just enough to pull you out.”
“No.” He is glaring at her, his face as stern as the stone all around them. “If you move them it might bring the rest of the mountain down on top of us.” He pauses, looking away at some distant corner of the corridor. “I won’t let that happen.”
Madison seems to know what he is implying: That he won’t let it happen to her! It was just like all of those times that she had caught him staring at her and she knew what he was really thinking then too. That he was hoping once their assignment was over, maybe once both of them no longer wore their uniforms, they could meet up for a drink. Maybe they could become friends and then maybe something more.
Ever since Madison hit puberty she had put up with this crap. She had what some would call an attractive and athletic build. Her body had become even more fit since joining the armed services. But as far back as Madison could remember she had tried to hide
her features. She cut her hair short just below her ears and never wore makeup or jewelry. These small measures hadn’t helped Madison to avoid attention as much as she would have liked. Her grandmother had called her a “natural beauty”. Her pale skin and freckles were all the adornments she needed.
If she had it her way Madison would have none of it. Whenever fellow service members looked at her all they saw was a pretty face. She was a billboard for what every airman wished his fellow officer looked like. This poor boy, this Lt. Trevers must have thought he hit the Air Force jackpot when he was paired up with her. Lt. Trevers had been nice enough. His face was even fair to look at it if Madison had ever given it as much as half a thought. Madison was assigned to perform a job, not pick up dates, and that is what she did.
What was Madison to do now? What was her role buried under a mountain?
Lost in thought, Madison’s eye glance over to Lt. Trevers again. He is pinned beneath rock, covered in soot and lit only by the small beam of a tiny utility flashlight. Madison feels a small twinge of regret. Not for never having gone out for a drink. Not for never taking an interest. In that moment Madison realizes she has never even done as much as returned a smile. She had gone out of her way to be both distant and disinterested in her fellow Lieutenant. It was her only defense. Madison had never learned how to keep a safe professional distance in a relationship. Despite being an expert of linguistics in six different languages Madison never had any friends. Maybe that was why she did her best work removed from those doing the communicating. She did her best work located thousands of miles away from any real intimacy. Instead she preferred to be buried and hidden deep in the earth, reading and listening to messages and translating them, but never having the opportunity to respond back.
Lt. Trevers is grimacing. Though he hides it from her, Madison knows that her coworker is scared. He is likely even more scared than Madison could ever be. It is in that moment that Madison knew her role. She knew the job that she must do.
So, Madison does something completely outside of herself. Flicking off the light to conserve its batteries she shifts her body. Madison takes Dale’s head in her lap and cradles it. He is whimpering and so she tells him, “Everything is going to be all right.”
9 Gabriel
Startled by the realization that his daughters might be in danger, the first thing that Gabriel checks is his cellphone. It is off. When Gabriel tries to power it on, nothing happens. In a frantic panic, Gabriel’s thoughts are overwhelmed by the sudden need to get in contact with his daughters. He reaches into the pant’s pocket of the dead man in the alley. He finds the man’s cellphone and flips it open. Gabriel frantically pushes the “on” button but it too doesn’t respond. His mind races.
Gabriel finds himself inside a department store. The doors have been unlocked and so all he has to do is pry them open. There are no lights on inside, but fortunately the store’s large windows let in plenty of light. Just like the streets outside, the store is empty. Also like the streets there are holes, more places where some spherical object has carved out space where something else had once been. A carpeted floor, a rack of hangers and a showcase of jewelry, all replaced by the same impressions. Gabriel pushes these mysteries aside. His only thoughts are for his children. Dark thoughts for their safety creep up and Gabriel fights them. He knows he has to get to them. Gabriel focuses on this and this alone.
There is a phone on the wall behind one of the cashier’s counters. Gabriel tries it but there is no dial tone coming through the receiver. Gabriel tries several others in the department store as well but all with the same result. His final attempt is a display of cellphones. He attempts to turn on every one. Each give him the same dead blank screen as a reward for his efforts.
Gabriel shouts and raves. He throws the phones across the aisles. They shatter as they struck the walls and floor. He is losing his sense of control. Gabriel is losing any sense of reality.
His daughters are the only thing on his mind. Gabriel needs to reach them, but in order to do so he will need to stay focused. Five deep breaths are all it takes to regain his composure.
After trying the phones Gabriel takes advantage of his brief moment of clarity for a slight detour. His first objective is clothing. Just as Gabriel had noticed when he had first woken up, he still reeks of urine. Gabriel stinks. He peels off his overalls and hangs them over a dressing room door. He then changes into a pair of jeans and a flannel shirt. Gabriel also procures a belt and from it he hangs his keys and flashlight. In the back of his waistband he tucks in the barrel of his empty revolver.
On everything he takes off the racks, Gabriel saves the clothing labels with the prices. Gabriel tears them off and shoves them into his pocket. If whatever is happening ever ends and things returned to the way that they were, Gabriel hopes to repay the store for the things he is taking.
After leaving the dressing room Gabriel debates whether or not to leave his work uniform or carry it with him. He had worn the same overalls nearly every day for two years. He knew every stain and every home-mended stitch. On the chest of Gabriel’s overalls his name was embroidered in red thread. Over the years, Gabriel had thought about asking for a new pair. At least one additional set to ease his laundry bills. However, Gabriel had stayed quiet. He figured that he would be a given a new one before long. Some CEO or high powered executive would see him passing in the halls and complain to the building manager. They would make a stink about how it looked to have someone so filthy wandering the halls. Then they would have to get him a new pair. It wouldn’t be for him, and not because he had asked, but because someone whose voice mattered had made them listen.
The holes, the dead buildings and the empty streets. These images and the one of the large shape he had seen in the sky, all of them come to Gabriel. He leaves the overalls where they are.
Gabriel only briefly allows thoughts of what he is already considering “the old world” to creep into his mind as he raids the gourmet food section of the department store. Handfuls of nuts pour into his mouth. The surreal nature of the world and Gabriel’s actions in them is conflicting with Gabriel’s need to see his daughters again. The need to rationalize and his love for children compete for his attention. Love wins out as Gabriel finds a backpack in the school supplies section. He fills it with all the food he can find. He chews on macadamia nuts as he packs. Each bite subsides the painful feeling in his stomach that had threatened to overwhelm him before.
As the chewed up bits of nuts make their way into Gabriel’s gut he can feel his nauseous feelings become less frequent. But he still needs water, something to soothe his aching throat and tongue. There is a water fountain near the department store’s restrooms but they don’t work. Instead, Gabriel finds his way into the employee break room. There is a refrigerator. The temperature inside is equal to that of the room without. It is yet another jarring experience that Gabriel pushes aside. He tries not to think about how long the refrigerator has been without power as he grabs a half-finished bottle of chocolate milk and pops it open. The sweetened milk feel so good in Gabriel’s mouth that he let out an audible sound of relief after letting it run down his face and throat. Gabriel is even more grateful that the milk product is still runny and lacks any coagulation or the smell of rot. There are other items in the refrigerator as well.
These items have names on them. Names like “Bobby”, “Susanna” and “Mark”. Names of people who have left their lunches with hopes of returning later to open and enjoy them. They are the names of people that had once worked in the store. People that are now missing. Gabriel shuts the door to the fridge forcefully and pulls himself away. He pushes his children to the forefront of his mind.
With a belly full of gourmet nuts and lukewarm milk, Gabriel’s body is recovering, even as his mind is slipping. After relieving his bowels in the department store restroom and feeling guilty when he can’t get the toilet to flush, Gabriel pulls himself back out into the empty streets. Gabriel has forty-five blocks separat
ely him from the department store and where his children go to school. More focused on this, he concentrates on the distance and draws a map in his head. From his daughter’s school it is another ten blocks to his apartment.
Putting one foot in front of the other Gabriel begins his march. He ignores the signs of death all around him. Instead he focuses on the promise of two young lives up ahead.
10 Madison
Fighting off the urge to drift off to sleep Madison and Dale talk to one another for what turns into hours. They sit in the dark, his head on her lap, as they wait for time to pass. The hope of help arriving unexpectedly is ever on their minds. Besides each other their only other company is the darkness and sounds of shifting rock. The distant moans that Madison had heard earlier have stopped a long while ago. Madison conserves their flashlight’s battery by keeping it off. Their stomachs are empty and Madison can feel her bladder on the verge of exploding. But the airman pushes these urges aside, just like she pushes aside the urge to yell and scream frantically for help. Claustrophobia is setting in. But instead Madison talks and she listens.
While they had “known” each other for two years the two coworkers really knew nothing about one another. Dale told Madison about his life back in Georgia.
He told Madison about how he had grown up in a suburb outside of Atlanta in a well-off neighborhood. His father had been in the film industry and had enjoyed the boom that came to the area in the early part of the century. His mother had been an artist, a painter, who was well-known for her landscapes. They used to travel the world in search of new hillsides, seashores or sunsets for her to paint. That was how Dale had become interested in new cultures and languages. By the time he was ten years old he could speak Mandarin and some dialects of Hindi. His parents encouraged his passion. They got him tutors after school, sent him to special language camps and provided study abroad opportunities for him whenever they had the chance. Dale had grown up an only child. His pen pals in Japan, India and China were his siblings.