6:00 Hours: A Dystopian Novel

  6:00 Hours

  By Chad Evercroft

  Part I

  Rachel

  1.

  It had been raining for three days straight. Not just drizzling either or raining off and on. Steady, heavy rain with wind. The palm trees had been ripped to shreds, flower beds uprooted and turned inside out, and if someone had been careless enough to leave out their trash, it was scattered to the four corners. Seeing the black skies - black during the day and night now - it was hard to imagine that it hadn’t been that long ago when the sky was cloudless, sapphire blue, and lit by a radiant sun. Rachel had been able to enjoy the beach for one hard-earned afternoon after barely meeting her project deadline and suffering through a seven-hour flight before the storms rolled in. When she saw the dark swirling skies and the warnings of flooding on TV, she regretted taking a vacation alone. At the time, it had seemed like a perfect idea. Rachel was a true introvert and after exerting all her energy on her project for grad school, the idea of fielding questions from scores of friends and family about where she had been and what she had been doing sounded miserable. All she wanted was to get away, where no one knew her, and disappear for a few days. The Emerald Coast was just what she had in mind. She chose a small, expensive resort with a private beach to beat the crowds. That first afternoon went quickly, since she hopped right from the plane to the beach with its blue-and-white striped lawn chairs and servers in white shorts wandering around taking drink orders. Rachel slept most of the afternoon in the shade and had a late dinner. From the resort’s restaurant, she could see the skies darkening.

  “Look’s like bad weather,” Rachel remarked to the waiter when he brought her food.

  “Forecast predicted some rain,” her waiter said, smiling. “Not much to worry about though.”

  By 8:00 pm, the sky had opened up and Rachel began to regret choosing to vacation alone. It wasn’t that she was scared or anything, but she wished she had someone with her to make the decision about whether to stay or plan to leave early. Or even just to keep her entertained if the rain kept her indoors for very long. She watched the rain from her room, the TV turned to a weather channel. Rachel was contemplating ordering a dessert from room service when her phone buzzed. It was her mother.

  “Hi, Mom.”

  “Hi, honey. I’m watching the TV right now. The weather looks really bad where you are.”

  “It’s not what I expected, that’s for sure.”

  “Are you planning on staying? I don’t think you should. This could turn into a hurricane.”

  Rachel checked her bars and saw that the weather was weakening the reception.

  “Nothing is flying out tonight, Mom,” Rachel repeated, praying her phone held up for just a few more minutes. “Or tomorrow morning, probably.”

  “Are you sure? Did you check the smaller airlines?”

  “Yeah,” Rachel lied. “And besides, you don’t want me up in this weather with a rickety craft, do you?”

  “No,” Rachel’s mom admitted. “I just don’t like the idea of you on the coast right now.”

  “It’s just a little rain, Mom.”

  “Rain is never just a little rain. Not anymore.”

  After humoring her mother’s anxiety for a few more minutes, Rachel promised to keep an eye on plane schedules and to pay close attention to weather advisories. She went to bed early and lay listening to the rolling thunder and woosh of the rain against the hotel. It had been a long time since she found the sound of heavy rain relaxing. She had been about six years old when the President came on TV and told the world that the Meridional Overturning Circulation had slowed to a dangerous pace.

  “The MOC is a system of deep currents that connects all the oceans,” the President explained. “It transports water, heat, carbon, and salt and keeps the planet’s temperature balanced. Unfortunately, mankind’s interference with the climate through the burning of fossil fuels and irresponsible behavior has led to the MOC slowing down. This prevents the circulation of warm water to the northern regions, leading to colder temperatures. This change will also have a dramatic effect on the world’s storm systems.”

  Every storm after that was never just a storm. Rachel’s family began to prep as if their lives depended on it, and some of the time, it really did. There were more bad thunderstorms that resulted in the power going off for days at a time. During the summers, the grass dried up into sharp yellow gristle that hurt Rachel’s feet when she walked barefoot. At least once every winter, there was a heavy snowfall that made travel impossible. Rachel’s parents had expected the climate to change for the worse for years, anyone who had been paying attention did, but for Rachel, it was like the President’s address had initiated a new era of weather. Lying in bed listening to the storm, Rachel thought about what the hotel had to offer in the way of essentials, like canned food or batteries. What kind of protocol did they have in the case of a power outage? Or flooding? Back home, her parents had taken care of everything, and at school, the administration had emergency supplies and free informational packets right alongside the textbooks. Rachel had taken all that for granted. Now she was stuck here for a while. Time to step up.

  When Rachel woke the next morning, it was still raining. At breakfast, she noticed that the dining room was emptier than the night before. People were taking off. The thought made Rachel a little anxious.

  “Some rain, huh?” Rachel said sarcastically to the waiter who had served her the night before.

  He shrugged sheepishly and set down her coffee without comment. As he left, Rachel noticed that he had glanced nervously out the window, as if he expected to see something terrifying. Rachel gulped down her cup and went to check out the hotel shops. There were mostly souvenirs - key chains and what not. Rachel browsed the essentials section and bought batteries, a penlight, four candy bars, and a large bag of trail mix. She was glad that she always carried a first aid kit whenever she traveled; it never left her bag so she never had to remember to pack it. It was something her parents had insisted on when she was younger. As she checked out, Rachel picked up a road map of the city.

  “Planning on heading out?” the shop clerk asked, gesturing to the map.

  “Not necessarily,” Rachel replied. “Why? Are people leaving?”

  “Oh, yeah. This rain is scaring a lot of people. You know how it is now. A big storm and everyone panics, especially when they’re not holed up at home. And the ocean freaks people out.”

  “Have you heard anything? Warnings?”

  “Not yet,” the clerk replied. “But if I were you, I’d get out if you could. When my shift is done, I’m not sticking around.”

  Rachel paused in the lobby to get a sense of people’s emotions. She did notice a crowd of people leaving, wide-eyed and irritable. A father pulled a whining child by the hand, ignoring the boy’s cries.

  “I don’t wanna go!” the child moaned.

  “Stop it,” the father insisted. “Let’s go.”

  Rachel hurried up to her room. She checked her phone to see if her mother had called, but her bars were too low.

  “Crap,” Rachel said aloud.

  She was starting to feel a little panicky. Moving slowly to try and keep herself calm, Rachel folded all her clothes into small squares and packed them tightly in her suitcase. She laid her computer and cosmetics bag on top.

  Keep essentials close, she told herself.

  She moved the small metal first aid kit to her backpack and added the candy bars and trail mix. She would need the map, too. Rachel took out her toothbrush from its Ziploc bag and folded the map so it fit inside. The map had to stay dry if it was going to be useful. All packed. Rachel pocketed her phone, turned off all the lights, and carried
her bags to the elevator. It was packed with people with the same idea. Donned in rain jackets and flip-flops, everyone stood in nervous silence as the elevator made its descent.

  “Anyone hear anything?” a woman asked. “About hurricanes or anything?”

  “I heard the hotel is going to evacuate everyone,” a man said.

  A clamor of voices rose as the elevator doors opened. Spilling out, everyone ran to the front desk, asking the same question over each other to a startled employee.

  “Please, if everyone could just calm down for a second,” he cried, raising one hand.

  “Is there a hurricane? Aren’t you people going to tell us what to do?”

  “There has not been an official warning,” the employee insisted. “But we are encouraging people to leave if they can.”

  Rachel sidestepped the buzz of more questions and accusations to another line, where she was promptly checked out. The young woman who helped her smiled weakly.

  “Be safe,” she said.

  “You too,” Rachel replied.

  When she had landed, Rachel had seriously considered not renting a car. Now, she was indescribably relieved that she had. The few shuttles that the hotel had were packed to the gills, and only the most eager taxi drivers had risked the weather to drive right up to the coast for customers. Rachel put her bags in the backseat and tried to make a plan. Just driving inland was her best bet. Details could come later. There were other hotels further in the city; she could camp out somewhere cheap until she could get a flight out. Worst case scenario, she could just keep driving until the weather cleared up. After tuning in fuzz for a few seconds, Rachel found a radio station with news.

  “Though there has been no official ruling, it is highly recommended by experts that everyone near the coast evacuate inland,” a voice said firmly. “Remain at your own risk.”

  Rachel turned out of the hotel parking lot and drove slowly to the main road. Rain poured over her windshield like God was emptying buckets on top of her. Rachel had heard someone say that rain is when God’s wife cries when he beats her? An ugly saying. She later learned it was incorrect, and that the saying was when it rains and the sun shines at the same time, it is because the Devil is beating his wife. For some reason, the incorrect version stuck with Rachel more than the latter. Rachel gripped the steering wheel and leaned forward. Her headlights were practically useless. The blurs of light from traffic stops and other cars gave her some idea of space, but besides just driving inland, Rachel didn’t know where she was or where she was going. Only a half-hour passed before driving became unbearable and Rachel pulled off an exit to collect her thoughts.

  There wasn’t much around. No hotel business wanted to deal with the competition from the big coastal resorts, so there were only a few grungy motels around for truckers and other people just passing through. Rachel ran from one motel to the next, buffeted by the wind, to find a room, but everything was booked out.

  “We just got swarmed,” the girl at the Forty-A-Nite said in an apologizing tone.

  Seemed like several other folks had found driving too difficult and stopped where they could. Soaked through, Rachel took shelter in a Stock ‘n Save across the street to figure out a plan. She could try and hop around from store to store until they closed, but who knows how long they would stay open if a hurricane or something worse hit? The same went for any restaurants. Would she have to stay in her car? Maybe a motel would take pity on her and let her stay in a linen closet or something if her only other option was trying to park in a safe place and ride out the storm.

  I should get some supplies for sure, Rachel thought, looking around the store. Some more food. Water.

  There was a surprisingly decent amount of supplies left in the store. Rachel guessed it must be because most people who lived here knew to be prepared in advance, and only the careless or newbies would participate in the mad dash right before the worst struck. Since the President’s address fifteen years ago, multiple campaigns had come out insisting that people better prepare themselves for the onslaught of storms. There were door-to-door salesmen who sold pre-packed 72-hour emergency supply boxes and constant PSAs on radio and television about not waiting until the last minute to stock up on flashlights, batteries, food, and water. Still, there were always people who just kept putting it off, and they were right there with Rachel in the Stock ‘n Save.

  Rachel filled a basket with canned soup, juice, and beef jerky. She also bought a plastic water bottle with a wide mouth in hopes of catching rainwater if she needed to. There wasn’t much water left; that was always the first thing to go, along with toilet paper, which was also gone. Rachel selected a bulk stack of napkins as a substitute. She didn’t know how long she would be out and about without a stable place to stay, but she figured she could use the bathrooms at fast food places or gas stations to get water and clean up. Hopefully things didn’t get really bad and everything shut down completely. That was the scariest scenario. Rachel didn’t like to think about it. She normally didn’t have anxiety - that was her brother’s biggest issue - but this type of uncertainty was enough to make anyone skittish.

  Rachel checked her phone as she hovered by the checkout. She had reception. One missed call. It was her mom.

  “Rachel? Oh, thank God.”

  “I’m ok, Mom. I left the resort.”

  “Where are you now? Are you safe?”

  “For now, yeah. I’m kind of not sure what to do next, though…” Rachel tried to mask her fear, but she couldn’t pretend like she knew what she was doing. “All the motels are full and I can’t keep driving, the rain is too bad.”

  “There’s gotta be a church or someplace where people can stay,” Rachel’s mom insisted. “Other people will need a place, too. Ask around.”

  “Ok.”

  “How are you feeling, sweetie? Are you scared?”

  “I’m ok,” Rachel said, biting her lip.

  She had been feeling relatively cool-headed, but hearing her mom’s voice made Rachel’s strength waver. Tears pricked her eyes, but she hastily blinked them away. She didn’t want to be caught standing in a store crying like a kid who had lost track of her parents. Things would work out.

  “Call me when you find somewhere safe, ok?” Rachel’s mom said. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too.”

  2.

  There was a family of five in front of Rachel at the checkout. The youngest was just a baby, likely barely a year old, who slept deeply in the carrier strapped across his mother’s chest. His arms and legs dangled like doll limbs; he was completely relaxed and unaware of the fear around him. He looked so warm and safe in his powder blue onesie and tiny knit cap. The other two children- a boy and a girl - were about 10 and 8, respectively. They busied themselves with putting their goods on the belt and ignoring their parents, who were flustered and arguing quietly. Finding that there were no more things to take out of the cart, the little girl looked at Rachel and waved.

  “Hi!” she said cheerily.

  Rachel smiled and waved back, trying to hide her worry.

  “I like your hair,” the little girl said. “I want curly hair, but my mommy says it takes too long to curl. I don’t like my hair.”

  “I wanted straight hair like yours when I was little,” Rachel said. “My hair gets frizzy when it’s hot outside.”

  “My name is Lena. What’s your name?”

  “Rachel.”

  Lena’s mother pushed the empty cart forward to make room for Rachel.

  “Come on, Lena. Don’t bother the lady.”

  “Oh, she’s not bothering me,” Rachel insisted. “Lena’s a really pretty name.”

  The mother smiled. Her husband finished packing the supplies while she handed her credit card to the cashier.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry, but our machines are down,” the cashier said, wincing. “I can only take cash.”

  The woman bit her lip, looking at her husband. He opened his wallet and swore under his breath.

>   “I just got a five,” he admitted.

  “We need these supplies,” his wife murmured to him.

  “What do you want me to do?” he muttered back.

  “I can get it,” Rachel piped up.

  “Oh, no, that’s out of the question,” the woman said.

  “It’s not a problem. And, to be honest, you guys could really help me out. So, a trade?”

  The woman looked at Rachel, inviting her to continue.

  “I don’t have a place to go and I don’t want to keep driving in this rain. If I could just hang out with you for a few hours, maybe just the night, I wouldn’t have to stay in my car or in whatever fast food place is still open.”

  Lena looked up at her parents, her eyes wide. “Mama, she doesn’t have anywhere to go! We have to help her!”

  The oldest son nodded, his arms wrapped around a bag of groceries.

  “A trade makes sense,” he said.

  The mother glanced at the father, who gave a sort of nod-shrug in agreement.

  “Do you have a car? We don’t have room in ours, but you can follow us.”

  Rachel handed over the money for the family’s supplies as well as her own.

  “I do, yeah. And thank you.”

  The adults’ names were Mark and Tara Buckley. The baby - Caleb - was seven months, and the oldest boy was Alexander. Rachel followed the family’s van as close as she felt comfortable with. They crawled along a few blocks and parked on the street in front of an old, but well-built cottage. Rachel noticed there were boards nailed against the windows.

  “You guys are ready for this, huh?” she remarked as Mark helped her with her bags.

  “Yeah!” he shouted above the sound of the rain. “Every season!”

  Everyone hurried into the house, the children squealing and shouting. They were all swept inside like the wind had carried them in, dripping and shivering.

  “I’ll take your coat,” Tara offered.

  “Thanks.”

  Lena looked up at Rachel, beaming as her mother hung up everyone’s coats and began to carry the bags into the kitchen.