6:00 Hours: A Dystopian Novel Page 6

  Lifting Hunter with the boy’s blanket covering his small body, Danny rushed to the shelter and put him down.

  “Inside,” he said close to Hunter’s ear. “Like you do when you’re playing hide ‘n seek.”

  Hunter vanished inside, crawling on his hands and knees. Jesse came next, curling his knees to his chest and staring out at his parents. Miranda followed, ducking her head down. Danny was just about to squeeze himself in when a chunk of the wall with the broken window broke loose and came hurtling towards him.

  “Shit!” Danny gasped.

  Afraid that a piece of debris could make its way into the shelter, he slammed the shelter door closed. He could hear Miranda scream his name. Danny ducked, the debris narrowly missing him, and sought shelter behind the couch. He grabbed Jesse’s blanket and covered his head with it. It was unlikely to protect him from anything heavy, but twigs and pieces of glass going at a high enough speed could easily impale him if he had no form of shield. No light penetrated the blanket; it was like the sun had just been snuffed out by this howling, tearing monster. Danny could feel debris hitting him from all sides. Unable to see, Danny braced himself for the roof to fall down on his head, crushing him. The noise roared into Danny’s ears, rattling his teeth. Danny clenched them to keep them from being shaken right out of his head. When would it stop? Danny couldn’t think about anything else but the noise - that deafening, pounding, eyeball-crushing noise. The noise only stopped when something hard struck Danny in the head. Then there was silence.

  3.

  When Danny regained consciousness, he wasn’t sure where he was or who he was. His head throbbed and he felt something warm running into his eyes. Remembering that he had arms, Danny reached up and wiped at his forehead. He brought his arm back down and saw blood. His eyes clearer, Danny tried to comprehend what was going on around him. The first thing he noticed was the blue sky above him. He was laying on his back, most of his body covered by broken wooden beams, drywall, and other pieces of debris. There was a pain in one of his legs, but when he tried to move, he found he was able to untangle himself without too much discomfort. He saw that something sharp had cut into his leg and that he was bleeding, but nothing seemed to be broken. Now free, he saw he was sitting in rubble that went on for what seemed like miles. No houses were standing. Most of the trees had been uprooted and tossed around as if the wind had been tossing sticks for a dog. The ones that were still standing were tattered from zooming wood and metal scraps. Danny noticed his truck had flown towards the trees before crumbled like a soda can by a falling trunk. The storm clouds had dispersed to the south, smearing the sky in black. Everything stood strangely still. A light breeze blew over the remains of Danny’s neighborhood. Crawling, Danny made his way to the mini shelter.

  “Miranda? Boys?” he screamed desperately.

  There were splintered boards laying across it and the paint had chipped in several places, but the shelter still stood. The slab of concrete had held and was the only indication of where the basement had been before. All that had been above it was now gone. Danny attempted to push some rubble away to clear a path, but his hands were shaking. From inside the shelter, he could hear the boys shouting and a foot kicked open the door from the inside. Miranda’s sneakered foot emerged, and then the rest of her. Hunter and Jesse quickly followed, like two little moles from a hole squinting against the bright sky.

  “Oh my God,” Miranda said, kneeling beside Danny.

  She touched his head and his shoulders as if to make sure he was really there.

  “You’re bleeding!” Hunter wailed.

  Both boys had looked like they were in shock, but seeing their father hurt brought on sobs. They looked around at the chaos surrounding them and wept, their minds unable to grasp what they saw. His ears numbed by the tremendous decibels he had been exposed to, Danny tried to comfort them, but his mind was elsewhere. He knew he had to deal with his leg and head injury, and what about the neighbors? Marty and his family? He could hear a siren drawing nearer and sure enough, an ambulance and fire truck pulled into view. An EMT leapt down from the vehicle and soon Danny was inundated with a series of questions.

  “Where are you hurt?”

  “Do you remember what happened to you? What’s your name?”

  “How do you feel? Do you have a headache?”

  Danny answered as best as he could and soon had his leg and head bandaged while Miranda talked to another EMT.

  “He might have a concussion,” the EMT was saying. “Keep an eye on him.”

  Danny was the only one who had been hurt. Everyone was given a blanket and lead away from the rubble while firefighters went to investigate the other smashed houses. Danny scanned the wreckage, searching for signs of Marty or Val or Tammy or Marty’s daughter, Sara. Marty didn’t have a shelter nailed to the concrete. Were they able to find protection? Were they badly hurt? Danny didn’t have the stomach to ask himself the most obvious, but also the most piercing question: Were they still alive?

  A shout drew Danny from his place of fear and he saw Marty standing above the rubble waving his arm at an EMT. Danny’s heart leapt into his throat and he suddenly felt like he had to be sick.

  Breathe, he told himself. Slow.

  Marty and his family had been half-buried in rubble, but were miraculously all unhurt except for a few bruises and scratches. Their basement had been on the side least touched by the tornado, so the heavy couch had shielded them from the heavier flying debris. Tammy, Val, and Miranda all embraced each other, crying silently, and Marty put a hand firmly on Danny’s shoulder. He looked down at him, concerned.

  “You ok?” Marty asked.

  “Yeah. Better now. That you’re ok,” Danny replied.

  Marty surveyed the destroyed landscape and inhaled shakily. He acted like he might say something, but he stopped, the words caught in his throat. Instead, he just squeezed Danny’s shoulder before letting his hand drop. A firefighter in a faded coat came over and cleared his throat.

  “Everyone affected by the storm is welcome to stay in the big church with the gym. You guys know the one?”

  “Yeah,” Marty said. “About five miles away.”

  “We’d be glad to drive you, whenever you’re ready.”

  “Thanks,” Marty said. “I think we’d like to go now. Danny?”

  Danny lowered his head. He didn’t want to go. There were still supplies buried in that heap over there, the one where not an hour ago, a house stood. A house that was prepared for anything. Well, almost anything. Marty understood and gathered his family, telling Miranda that they would meet them at the gym.

  “I’ll save you a good spot.”

  After they left, Miranda and Danny were given thick work gloves so they could begin sifting through the rubble safely and told to not stay in the area for very long.

  “It’s clear now, but there are more storms in the forecast,” the firefighter said. “An officer will stay here to drive you to the church when ya’ll are ready.”

  Danny scoffed inwardly at the word “ready.” Clearly the firefighter’s home had been spared from the tornado. No one is ever “ready” to leave the ruin of their home. There will always be a broken fragment of that place in one’s heart, like a piece of shrapnel in a wound. Despite his leg, Danny hobbled around in the mess, searching for anything salvageable. He was naturally drawn to where he believed his stockpile room had been. His chest tightened as he picked through a bounty of crushed glass, dust, and wood. He managed to find a few cans of food - vegetables and fruit - and put them in the pile of useful items he was building. When he found a dust-coated duffel bag, he put the cans inside. Miranda helped him search for a while, but she grew discouraged and watched him silently from the police van. Hunter and Jesse were with her, disappointed that they couldn’t help their father, but exhausted from their traumatic ordeal. Danny felt his wife’s eyes on him and felt self-conscious. He knew she didn’t quite understand, but she let him do what he needed to do. After scroungi
ng for a good thirty minutes, he gave up. His leg was hurting and he had only unearthed a few cans and a dirty duffle bag. Everything else was lost. For the first time in a long time, Danny felt utterly helpless.

  Danny was silent on the drive to the church. Everyone looked out the window at the passing chaos, quietly accessing the extent of the damage. The cloud had touched down for about two miles, destroying everything in its path. Trees, cars, and houses were all twisted, shattered, or flattened. Hunter and Jesse - usually so vocal - were struck dumb at the transformation of their town. Miranda thought about the people whose homes they passed, caressing each name in her mind, and hoping they lived. When they neared the church, there was much less damage to the buildings. The wind had ripped parts off of roofs and battered the sides, but everything still stood.Some people stood around outside, inspecting their cars and lawns, picking up trash, and talking to each other. Danny recognized many of them as students in his class.

  At the church, a line of about 30-40 people had formed. Some carried bags and pillows. Some had bandages around their heads, arms, or legs.

  “Here we are,” the police officer said, putting his van in park. “Just go on in and there will be someone to tell you what’s going on.”

  “Thank you so much,” Miranda said.

  “Not a problem. You folks stay safe.”

  The family was ushered into the gym, which was filled with people. They were handed four sleeping bags, four water bottles, and promised a hot meal within the hour. Walking through the gym to find an empty spot felt a little like walking through someone’s funeral. Clusters of families huddled together, either sitting with blank expressions of shock, or openly weeping. Hunter took Danny’s hand as they walked, looking around with the eyes of a much older boy. He was seeing things no child that young could be prepared for. Already, he was growing up right there in that moment. Danny looked around for Marty, but couldn’t see him in the crowd. He didn’t feel like calling out for him. He just wanted to be settled.

  “Here okay?” Danny asked Miranda, hovering in an open spot by a corner.

  Miranda nodded, pressing her chapped lips together. Whenever she was especially nervous, Miranda applied lip moisturizer to distract herself. Without it, she kept rubbing her lips together out of habit.

  “What do you think, boys?” Danny asked, looking down at his sons.

  “Where’s Marty?” Jesse asked.

  “We’ll go find him,” Danny assured him. “Let’s sit here for now.”

  “I’m thirsty.”

  Miranda unscrewed the top of one of the bottles and gave it to Jesse, who held it with both hands and took a long drink. Danny spread out the sleeping bags - old, flat ones that had seen a lot of use - and set his duffel bag beside his. A single man who sat near to Danny saw it and pointed.

  “Were you able to find anything worth saving?” he asked in a friendly tone.

  Danny didn’t know his name, but recognized him from around town. Danny opened the bag and lifted one of the cans.

  “Just a few cans. Peas and stuff.”

  “I found some canned salmon,” the man said. “I’m Frank, by the way. You’re Danny, right?”

  Danny took Frank’s offer of a handshake and nodded.

  “I gotta say, you’re the reason I even had cans of food,” Frank admitted, smiling. “I didn’t go to your classes, but a friend told me about it.”

  On the other side of Danny, another man made a snorting noise. He was tall, with black jeans and a torn-up backpack. His companion wore a baseball bat and looked younger, possibly a brother or nephew.

  “Guess those classes were a waste of time, huh?” the tall man said to the man with him.

  His voice was low enough so it was clear he wasn’t adding to Frank and Danny’s conversation, but Frank still glanced over and frowned.

  “Pff, yeah. We’re fooling ourselves thinking we can do anything about the weather. Just a waste of money,” the man’s companion said.

  Danny kept his mouth shut. Miranda stroked her husband’s arm and gave him a sympathetic half-smile. Frank rolled his eyes. The first man glanced over at him, as if to check to see if Danny had been provoked. He continued talking.

  “I’d have been better off just moving. Like the wife wanted. But nope, that guy convinced me it was all right to stay. Just had to be prepared.”

  The last sentence crackled with bitterness. Danny bit his lip. Tired of waiting for a response, the two men turned to Danny and confronted him directly.

  “Hey!” the tall guy exclaimed. “You’ve got some balls, you know that? Giving people all this information that’s supposed to help them, but it’s all just crap.”

  “That’s not true,” Danny said, firmly.

  “Whatever, man. If I hadn’t listened to you, I’d be in the city right now, in a house, not here in this muggy gym.”

  Danny turned his back to his accusers. They didn’t like that. The man in the hat gave Danny a shove, almost knocking him off balance.

  “Hey!” Miranda blurted out.

  Others who had been listening and hanging back stepped forward to intervene. Frank inserted himself between Danny and the two men, his hands up to defend himself if necessary. There was a brief scuffle as the two were pulled back. They stood breathing heavily, disheveled, and red-faced.

  “You expect Danny to know what the weather is going to be?” Frank said, his eyes fiery. “If there was a drought, you’d be singing a different tune. Same with a hard winter. Or a million other scenarios.”

  “Yeah, except this one,” the tall man countered.

  “Oh, yeah, so Danny should apologize for the tornado, okay, that makes sense,” Frank scoffed. “It’s a waste of time talking to you.”

  The two men looked at each other. No one around them was on their side; they were met by disgusted expressions and shaking heads. Sheepish, the two just muttered and walked away to stew in silence. People’s anger after a disaster was rarely logical. It was hard to be angry at a combination of humidity and air, or even God, if one believed in him. Neither could be grasped or struck, like the face of another human could be. Being angry at another person was just easier.

  4.

  The scuffle drew the attention of Marty, who had been camped out at the opposite side of the gym. He knew Frank, and they greeted each other warmly. Frank, like Danny, had dropped out of school to pursue different dreams and had been working on building a woodworking shop in his garage.

  “That’s all gone now,” he said, his voice cracking. He cleared it aggressively. “I got the house from a foreclosure, so it wasn’t a ton of money, but it was pretty much all I had. Not sure what I’ll do now. Maybe go back home with my tail between my legs.”

  Hunter widened his eyes and looked at Danny with a confused expression.

  “It’s just a saying,” Danny whispered. “He doesn’t actually have a tail.”

  “What are you folks going to do?” Frank asked, glad to change the subject away from himself.

  “We don’t know,” Miranda replied. “We...haven’t really thought about it.”

  It wasn’t like Danny had never thought about starting over. He had a plan for if the power grid went down permanently, or if a new and dangerous disease began sweeping the country. Miranda would get out the face masks and they would barricade themselves in their house. Danny had designs for all kinds of booby traps and security measures to keep looters out. Bugging out had never been in the cards; Danny calculated that the risks were just too high with two young children and besides, bugging out was really the best option for people who lived in crowded areas where rioting and violence was a real concern. Stoneholt was a tight-knit community that had a history of self-sacrifice and banding together. What Danny had not considered was what would happen if he had to start over unwillingly. In retrospect, that was stupid. People’s lives were routinely destroyed on the coast, and tornadoes and fires took out whatever was in between. Danny had just always assumed that somehow, he would be spared
.

  Three hours after the tornado had ripped through town, everyone who had any food gathered what they had and offered it to the church to cook for the gym as a group. Canned peas, corn, salmon, juice, and beans were collected along with the pasta and spaghetti sauce the church had on hand. Plates were handed out soup kitchen-style and kids were given glasses of milk mixed with chocolate syrup for dessert. Hunter and Jesse drank their milk very slowly, side by side, watching everyone eat in silence around them.

  “You should try to call your family,” Miranda whispered to Danny. “They’re probably worried sick.”

  Miranda had no family; she was an only child and her parents had died years before of what was now known as climate-related illnesses: Lyme disease due to the expansion of the territory where ticks could breed and lung cancer from air pollutants. Their illnesses had been drawn-out and painful, and when they passed on, it was more a relief than anything else. That was all a while before Danny had even met Miranda. His family became her family.

  Danny gingerly picked his way through the gym in search of a phone. Some people were still eating, cradling their paper plates in their laps. A few greeted Danny by name, and he waved back. No one attacked him like those two men had earlier, and even they had looked begrudgingly apologetic when they stood together in line waiting for food. With community support, those affected by the tornado would be all right. Danny went up to the folding tables where food had been served and approached someone in an apron.

  “Do you have a phone I can use? I need to call my family.”

  The young woman pointed to a line that extended from the gym doors all the way through the lobby. Danny sighed.

  “No other phone lines?” he asked.

  “I’m sorry,” the woman said.

  Danny shrugged and turned to walk to the doors when she reached out to touch his arm.

  “Wait a minute. You’re Danny Morgan, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah…”

  “The prepper guy?”