November 7, 2009

Short Story #2

I.

The explosion is so loud my body reacts more quickly than my mind can grasp the implications. Under my desk with my hands clenched tightly around the back of my neck I breathe into the neck of my shirt.
“Jesus... what the hell… Jesus…. Jesus…”

Then an intense thrill of panic courses through my body.

“Oh Jesus… Gavin…!”

I jump up and crack my head against the edge of the desk. I race toward the door of my office, freeze and jump back to grab my purse out of my drawer. The drawer is locked.

I scream in frustration as I slam my key into the lock and again as I tug on my purse to loosen it’s wedged form from the drawer.

As I speed down the corridors to get to the doors leading outside, I hear people yelling, trying to get information from others who know as little as they do. My high heels aren’t letting me get where I need to be quickly enough. I yank them off and throw them behind me as I keep running.

Down the stairs and into the main lobby of the building, I freeze in horror, jostled from behind by others who don’t yet see the crowd of people standing in front of the doors. The doors are blocked. The man standing in front of the doors is yelling into the crowd.

“No one can leave! Please step away from the doors! Please -- go back to your offices --- you can’t leave!”

I crane my neck to look through the glass doors, past the man standing in everyone’s path, and see a body. There is a body lying halfway across the street just outside the doors. I can’t go out. I can’t leave.

“No! How am I going to find out where Gavin is? Oh Jesus… what if he was outside. Oh God…. Zack!”

I pull my cell phone out of my purse and mash the 2 button down.
“Dammit. He won’t have his cell on him at work”

I hit END and dial his work #. Lines are too busy… or down. Nothing will go through. In my head I am screaming in frustration. What am I going to do!? There’s no where to go. No way to check on my son and my husband. I feel like pulling my hair out of my skull; like a wild animal, ready to pounce or flail or grab anything in my way.

There are sirens. I feel a jolt of hope.

“Maybe they’ll take me to Gavin!”

Then reality sets in.

“Of course they won’t. Of course. Stupid. Dammit.”

The weight of the realization that I will have to wait to find out what had happened to my family starts to sink in on me and I sit on the floor. I can’t cry. It is too much. I am shutting down. Unblinking, I stare at the body in the road. I wonder if I knew that person. Were they one of my co-workers? I hope not. That person’s poor family. I wonder if he… she… was rushing to get to them. I wonder if their family was still alive. Or, maybe he… she… was outside when the… whatever it was… happened. I try my cell phone again. Still nothing.

My computer!

I walk back upstairs and through the corridor. Why waste my energy moving quickly? Who knows how long I will be in this building. I think about food. I wonder if we will have enough food if we are stuck here for a while. Then the pang of not knowing. Not knowing how my son is doing. Not knowing how my husband is doing. The pang is so strong I can’t breathe.

The tears come. They trickle down my face as I walk.

The corridors are empty.

I walk through the door of my office and stare out my window.

“I wonder why the glass didn’t shatter.”

I sit at my desk to see if my computer will work. It doesn’t. Not enough power. I should have realized that. We must be running off of generators. Yeah. I knew that. That’s why most of the lights are off. I stare out the window again.

I look at my phone. No power. I pick the phone up. No dial tone.

I sigh and stand up and walk to the door of my office.

“I wonder if anyone else is still up here.”

I walk around the office and look in the doors. No one else is here. I should go back down. They are probably doing the emergency roll call. I better walk back down.

As I return to the front lobby, I realize that everyone is there achieving some level of comfort from being around other people. I feel no comfort. I won’t get comfortable. I refuse. I won’t be comfortable until I know.

I sit down on the floor to wait.

II.

Every hour or so, someone brings food up from the employee cafeteria. I take a small bag of chips, but my mouth is too dry to eat them. The next time the food cart is brought around; I take a bottle of water and try to force myself to eat.

My mind goes through stages of complete despondency knowing there is nothing I can do but wait. Then I get angry. The moments of anger seem to last for shorter and shorter time periods as the hours pass. In some moments, I make the move to get up and just leave, but my rational side knows that there is a chance to take twenty steps and die. It will do me no more good than waiting.

A phone rings. Everyone jumps, and I snatch my phone from my purse to dial. A second phone rings, and then others, and then I hear mine ringing. I pick it up and put it to my ear.

“Hel…”

“This is a recording. The following cities are not yet safe for moving out of doors. Arlington, Culpeper, Fredericksburg…”

I stop listening.

Night falls.

I return to my office and doze fitfully on an old cot rescued from the old hospital’s storage in the basement.

My mind wanders.

I wonder if someone died on the cot I am using.

Working in the building of what was the old hospital had never struck home before now. At least we are equipped with the basic resources. I wondered how many people out there were struggling with the choice of leaving their homes to face death, or going without food or water or heat for who knows how long.

III.

At 6am the next day, I wander down to the lobby, hoping to find something edible waiting. As I near the stairs heading into the main hall, I hear people shouting.

“How much longer until we can get out of here?!”

“I need to see my son!”

“What happened?!”

“How…”

“Why…”

“Who…”

I can’t make out much of what is being said, but as I walk into the lobby, I see a man in a chemical suit. He’s holding his hands up as if to say “I know… give me a moment…”

He must have just arrived.

I stand in the back of the crowd to wait for him to speak. People are getting angry. Some are angry at the man for not answering, others at the people getting angry. There are multiple calls for silence.

Furious, I put my fingers in my mouth and whistle as loudly as I can.

Angry stares and glares turn my way, but the room grows quiet.

The man speaks. He looks haggard.

“There have been attacks across the country. We aren’t sure who or what or why… all we know is that we’re taking steps to try and keep everyone informed and supplied with the basic necessities. We’re hoping to have some semblance of phone service up soon for those of you with families to try and get in touch with them. However, it will be a waiting list. So, I need you to all please put your names and phone numbers down here” He held up a clipboard with a list of names “to get on the list for a phone.”

I am surprised at the orderliness of people who got in line to put their names on the list. Ironically, my first thought is “they never would have been this organized in Europe”.

I wait in line and put my name on the clipboard, trying to quickly scan and see if there is any other information to be gleaned from the many names listed.

There isn’t.

I sit back against the wall in the same spot I have been sitting for days.


IV.

Two days pass before I finally get my call.

“I am connecting you to Zack Loesche” says an automated voice.

“Hello?” It’s Zack’s voice. He sounds tired, as I am sure I must.

“Hi hon, I miss you. Have you heard anything about Gavin?”

“I miss you to. Yeah. I talked to the daycare. They’re ok.”

A thrill goes up my spine. He’s ok!

“You have 30 seconds” the automated voice commands.

“Ok, I love you.”

“I love you too.”

The phone goes dead.

V.

That night, I am lying in my cot with the few pictures of Gavin and Zack I had thought to bring with me to the new office sitting beside me.

For the 1,000th time since this started I think that I must bring more pictures to the office.

Another explosion rocks the building.

I jolt upright.

“No… no! Not again!”

This time, I feel the building really shake. I start to hear screaming in the other offices as pieces of the ceiling start coming down. I jump up, desperately trying to figure out where to go.

As I reach the door of my office, the floor starts to sway, and I lose my balance and slam into the doorway.

The floor gives way and I feel myself falling, sliding, smashing into beams and rubble.

Everything is dark.

I feel bruised, and am pretty sure my arm is broken.

There is no room to maneuver. I am shut in tight by the debris.
I am crying hysterically.

I hear, and feel, a third and then a fourth explosion.

I don’t know if it is the building continuing to crumble, or more of… whatever is happening.

I clench my fists and scream.

There is no response. Just silence.

VI.

I quickly lose track of time in my dungeon. The hunger gnaws at me.

“Stupid stubborn fool.” I keep reprimanding myself for not eating more when I had the chance.

When not thinking of food, my thoughts were on my son and husband. I would never see them again. That was the most terrible thought I could have. But it was the truth. As … who knows how many… days passed, I knew it for fact.

VII.

Eventually the hunger pains went away. Replaced by an almost constant barrage of tormented thoughts about my husband and son.

Eventually, the thoughts subsided.

Eventually, I rested.