6:00 Hours: A Dystopian Novel Page 7

  “I guess so.”

  The woman glanced around to make sure no one was watching her before motioning for him to follow her. She pushed open the door to the outdoors and put her foot in its way so it wouldn’t close.

  “Hold this open,” she instructed Danny. “Or it will lock behind you.”

  She reached under her apron into her jean’s pocket and withdrew a cell phone.

  “I didn’t want people to see or everyone would be asking to use it,” she explained, holding the phone out for Danny.

  “Why me then?” Danny asked, puzzled.

  “My dad went to one of your classes,” the woman said. “He learned about how to tie off deep wounds, stuff like that. He went camping alone and cut himself really bad. What you taught him saved his life.”

  Danny’s mouth fell open a little. The woman smiled, blinking back tears. She put the phone in his hand.

  “So hold the door open with your foot or something,” she repeated.

  Danny nodded, swallowing down the lump in his throat. The woman went inside, leaving Danny outside alone in the fading light. The sky was layered in gold and crimson. Looking in this direction, everything was clear and peaceful. Danny looked to the north, where the wind blew from, and glared at the dark clouds still swirling. He thought he saw a bolt of lightning skid across quickly like a cockroach. So it wasn’t over just yet. Danny checked the cell reception and dialed. He tried his sister’s number first. Still nothing.

  Damn it, Danny thought, gritting his teeth. What have you gotten yourself into, Rachel?

  Danny called his dad next. The phone rang twice before he picked up.

  “Hello?”

  “Dad, it’s me.”

  “Thank God! Are you guys okay? We’ve been tracking what’s going on and it looks like about five tornadoes touched down within a 40-mile radius.”

  “Yeah, we got hit. We’re all ok, though, but the house is gone.”

  “I’m so sorry. Are you safe now?”

  “We’re at a church. Not sure what the next move will be.”

  “Does it have a basement?”

  “No, just the gym.”

  Danny’s father was quiet for a moment. Danny could hear talking in the background and typing, like someone was banging angrily on a keyboard.

  “Dad?”

  “There are more tornadoes forming. Can you see anything?”

  “Some storms in the north. Is it bad?”

  “Hard to say by the time they reach you, but it is definitely heading your way. I…”

  The phone went dead. Danny stared at the phone, seeing everything was fine. Something must have happened on the other end. He tried redialing, but the call didn’t go through. He called his mother’s number. Nothing. Anxiety crackled through Danny and he wished he had his pills. He stretched his neck, feeling it pop, and looked at the darkening clouds. They had swelled and there was definitely lightning now. The wind had picked up as well. Danny thought about Rachel and where she might be. Had she gotten out in time? Or would he receive a call that she had been put on a missing persons’ list and would likely never be found, her body lost to the sea. Danny felt sick. He swallowed down the rising bile with a grunt and hastily rubbed his eyes with his fist.

  Can’t think about stuff like that, he told himself. Not productive. Just hope for the best.

  It felt like a lie - a charade - but Danny knew it was the only thing that could keep him from panicking right now. More and more, he understood his mother. Taking slow, deep breaths, Danny went back inside, letting the gym door hit the back of his foot as it closed. He looked over the sea of heads, picking out people he knew, and trying to not think about the ones he couldn’t find. A circle of old people had formed in the corner nearby. There were about five of them - two couples and a single elderly man. Danny could overhear them whispering and praying with each other. Touched, Danny perked up his ears to listen. What he heard troubled him.

  “Forgive us, Lord, for what we have done to your creation. Withdraw the breath of your fury. Do not send any more tornados to punish us. We beg for mercy.”

  The prayer group members nodded earnestly. Two lifted their hands. The young woman with the apron was still behind the tables, handing out pudding cups. She raised her eyebrows in the direction of the group when Danny handed her the phone.

  “They didn’t even get hit by the tornado,” she said in a hushed tone. “They’re from the assisted living place down the road. They’ve got a great setup for tornados.”

  “Kinda seems like they’re bumming out.”

  “Well, you know how hard the media was on their generation,” the young woman reminded Danny. “All those TV specials on the not so-great generation and the planet killers, I’m sure it would get rough after a while.”

  Danny nodded. He did remember those shows, and the magazine stories. It had become relatively common for the two generations before Danny to be blamed for the abrupt climate shift that resulted in so many disasters. Their irresponsible burning of fossil fuels, overflow of landfills, fracking, and poor crop management hardly helped, but the climate change had been building for at least a century. It all went back to being able to have something or someone present to accuse. People from a hundred years were not still around; society’s grandparents were. Old habits were presented as cautionary tales and people who still held to them were shamed.

  “Older people just don’t understand,” was one of the kinder phrases. “They don’t know how their actions affected the situation we’re in now.”

  Anyone who worked in industry or anything relating to the environment who was over 50-years old was pushed out. An entire generation and a half was unemployed nearly overnight. Retirement benefits and support became less of a priority, as if society had agreed to punish those it saw as responsible for the climate shift. It wasn’t fair, of course. Most of that generation also suffered the most because of the climate change, what with all the health impacts from living near fracking sites or working in the mines or being exposed to radiation. They needed the medical care. Private organizations took charge when the government abandoned the elderly, but those kinds of resources were often overpriced and too expensive for a good deal of the poorer, older population. Many who should have lived another 10-20 years - like Miranda’s parents - died early, leaving Danny’s generation without memories of their grandparents. It was not a proud time for the country. Some - like the gym prayer group - took on that shame as punishment for their crimes against the planet. They went around bearing chocolate chip cookies for the children and words of warning for the adults, like smiling doomsday prophets.

  “Did you reach anyone?” Miranda asked.

  She was sitting cross-legged on her sleeping bag with the boys, who were licking the insides of their pudding cups. Someone had given her a hair scrunchie, so her hair was up in a ponytail.

  “Dad,” Danny replied. “I tried Rachel first, but still nothing. And then the call with Dad dropped and I couldn’t reach Mom.”

  “Is everything ok there?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Danny plopped himself between his sons and put his arm around their shoulders.

  “How are you guys doing? How’s the pudding?”

  “Good,” Hunter replied. “Is Aunt Rachel ok?”

  Danny sighed. He looked at Miranda, who gave him a little nod. They couldn’t deny anything was wrong to their young ones, but they could phrase the truth in a way that didn’t traumatize them,

  “There was a big storm where your aunt Rachel was staying,” Danny explained. “I haven’t been able to reach her cell phone.”

  Hunter and Jesse listened earnestly, a shadow crossing their faces.

  “Now I don’t want you guys to worry too much,” Danny continued. “Aunt Rachel is smart, and she prepares, like we do.”

  “But our house fell down,” Jesse interjected.

  That hit Danny in the gut. He put his hand on Jesse’s shoulder.

  “You’re righ
t. It did. But we had the box you guys went into; that kept you safe. And that’s what’s important. We can get a new house.”

  Hunter and Jesse started asking questions about what kind of house they would get when the sound of wind became audible over the buzz of people talking. Everyone grew quiet, listening, heads up like small animals searching for hawks. When the sirens started going off, rising like a shrill whine, people started to become agitated.

  “Oh, damn, not again,” Frank said, more frustrated than frightened.

  He drew up his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them, gritting his teeth. The sound of children crying could be heard even with the outside noise; their wails cut Danny to the core. It was pure, unhinged fear. Hunter and Jesse tried very hard to be brave. They moved closer to their parents, but did not cry. They covered their ears and looked to their father, their eyes begging him to save them. The lights went out; all across the gym, battery-operated or solar lanterns turned on, bathing the large room in patches of white-blue light. People’s faces were just barely visible, like glowing shadows or ghost faces. Danny and his family huddled together, their sleeping bags forming one slippery square. Outside, the wind howled like a wounded wolf as the low rumble steadily grew. Soon, the bellowing blanketed the cry of the tornado sirens until only the deep thunder of wind remained. This time, there was no mini shelter for Miranda and the boys. Danny had no last resort.

  “I love you guys,” Danny said, bending his head close to his sons’ ears.

  He was close enough to them that his whisper somehow broke through the overwhelming din around them, and they looked up at him. For a moment, the fear faded from their eyes and was replaced with adoration. Tears filled Danny’s eyes and he let them stream down his face. His precious children. His boys.

  “I love you, Miranda,” Danny said to his wife, turning his attention to her.

  She couldn’t hear him, but she saw the shape of the words.

  “I love you, too,” she replied, her eyes bright with tears.

  Danny cupped her face in his hands and pressed his forehead against hers. Their sons were between them, clinging to their waists, trying to block out the approaching monster. Danny closed his eyes, feeling Miranda’s shuddering breath on his face and her smooth hair between his fingers.

  My wife. My woman, Danny thought.

  5.

  Danny thought his heart might burst; it was so full of love. He remembered what it felt like when Miranda told him she was pregnant. It had been a Sunday morning. Danny was cooking bacon, watching the strips sizzle and pop. Miranda cut up fruit - strawberries, bananas, and pineapple - and set the table. When Danny brought over the bacon, he saw the test placed beside his plate. He swung Miranda around as she laughed, kissing her over and over again. Her pregnancy had been very smooth; she was one of those women who loved being pregnant. Her skin glowed, she felt at peace, and her aura was contagious. Danny had braced himself for anxiety and fear, but instead he found himself sharing in Miranda’s calm and optimism. He barely took any pills during those nine months. And then the boys were born. Hunter came first, squawking and flailing. He had a shock of white-blonde hair, like a baby duck, and eyes so dark blue they looked black. Jesse arrived quietly, hesitantly, and while he shared his brother’s feather-down hair, his eyes were pale grey. He looked up at his father with such a deep focus that Danny was sure the baby was gazing into his soul. From that moment, Jesse loved his father above all things.

  The wind reached the last decibel Danny’s ears remembered before he had been knocked unconscious earlier that day. People began to scream and scramble, unsure of where to go, but unable to just sit and wait for disaster. The ground began to shake.

  “Daddy!” Jesse cried, throwing his arms around Danny’s neck.

  Danny wrapped both arms around his son and held tight.

  “Whatever happens,” he said hoarsely, “Don’t let go of me.”

  Hunter grabbed unto Miranda. Danny put his hand on top of Hunter’s head to assure him he was still there.

  “Hold on to your mom,” he shouted.

  The roof shuddered. With a horrible crunching sound, part of it was ripped off and up. People ducked and ran, lights flashing like a rave gone bad. Swarms of people began to fight their way through the doors to the lobby, but it was too crowded. There was no way they would make it. The tornado was making its way south, tearing up whatever was in its path like tissue paper. Danny knew they had to go towards where the funnel had come from; to the north. Instead of trying to outrun the tornado, they had to get behind it. No one had headed for the door he had taken to make his phone calls. The door rattled, slamming against its hinges. The tables had been thrown against it, but Danny managed to move them quickly. It was their only shot.

  “Go! Go!” Danny shouted.

  They ran. With Jesse’s arms around Danny’s neck, Danny threw the table aside. Miranda pushed open the door and they both ran out. Out into the storm.

  It looked like a black hole had opened up above the church. Clutching their children, Miranda and Danny backed away from the doors, their jaws slack in awe at the sucking spiral so close to them. At the top, where it reached the sky, the funnel was wide and green like the mouth of a monstrous Mother Nature, full of swirling clouds and veins of lightning. It spiraled down, thinning out, and tossing debris from every direction. Even with the wind and rain nearly blinding him, to Danny’s horror, he could see bodies in the funnel flailing like rag dolls.

  They took all of this in for only a few seconds. They knew they were still much too close to be safe. They just started running.

  Have to find something concrete. Something nailed down, Danny thought frantically.

  What was around this area? There had to be shelters somewhere. Even in his panic, Danny managed to remember what the young woman in the apron had said.

  They’re from the assisted living place down the road. They’ve got a great setup for tornadoes.

  It didn’t matter which direction down the road. There was only one direction that was not directly in the path of the tornado. Danny and Miranda stumbled down the sidewalk. It was littered with rubble - chunks of roofs, car parts, and unidentifiable ruin. As Danny bent into the force of the wind, he saw a single shoe lying in the street. A children’s shoe.

  The assisted living place was not far. The prayer group must have just walked. The stone sign that read “Stoneholt Assisted Residence” had been nicked a few times, but still stood. The actual building itself was a different story. The entrance had been turned inside out and half of the roof had collapsed. With no other options, Danny and Miranda forged ahead, totally unaware of how their arms ached from holding the boys.

  “Look!” Miranda shouted, freeing up one of her hands to point.

  On the side of the lobby where the roof still remained in its proper place was a door with a plaque that read “Tornado Shelter Entrance.” They stepped over pieces of smashed furniture and sparking wires. Danny tried the knob. Locked.

  “No,” he shouted, “this can’t be!”

  Danny began banging on the door with his fist. “Help!”

  Nearby, a terrifying noise caused their heads to jerk around in fear. A horse carriage had slammed into the wall just yards from where they were standing and burst into a million little pieces. Miranda turned her head back towards Danny. She didn’t seem to be hurt, neither did Hunter, but her mouth was wide open. She understood how close they had come to being hit and hurt or even killed by the heavy wooden vehicle. “We’ve got to get in there, now” she yelled in Danny’s direction.

  The howling of the wind was almost unbearable. It was as if the storm was speaking to the little family, preparing them for what it was about to do to them. Danny knew that he’d have to get the door open quickly, or else nobody would be able to help protect them from the massive funnel approaching with increasing speed. He was hitting the door with all of his might, trying to create enough noise to alarm those on the inside.

  A
fter a few terrifying moments, the door opened. Danny and Miranda were yanked inside by several pairs of arms, nearly tripping down the fight of stairs that immediately greeted them. A flashlight was shone in their faces.

  “Down here. Quick!” a male voice instructed them.

  Danny and Miranda were practically carried down the stairs by the strangers, the flashlight bobbing erratically in a million different directions. When they stopped moving, they found themselves in a concrete room full of elderly people, a large lantern glowing in the center. Everyone stared at them. Danny turned to the people who had opened the door and saw that they were employees in teal scrubs. The man who had spoken was a muscular African-American with a pair of glasses that had one lens missing. His arms looked muscular, like they were nearly bursting out of his sleeves.

  “Are you guys okay?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” Danny replied, his throat burning.

  He coughed, bending to let Jesse down. Jesse refused, digging his heels into his father’s waist. Danny just sat down, embracing his son.

  “Where did you come from?” the nurse asked.

  “The church,” Miranda replied.

  Her knees gave way and she almost fell, her balance thrown off by Hunter. There was a brief scramble as nurses rushed to bring Miranda a chair. She thanked them, putting Hunter down before seating herself. Hunter sat by Danny on the floor and leaned his head against Danny’s shoulder. Neither boy had wept yet. They just breathed heavily, their eyes scanning the room as if they had never seen people before.

  “It got hit,” Danny explained. “We...we just ran.”

  Danny noticed that his leg was throbbing again. He looked down and saw that blood had seeped through the bandage.

  “You’re hurt,” an elderly woman said.

  “It’s from before,” Danny said. “Our house.”

  “My God,” the nurse said, shaking his head. “You are lucky.”

  The nurses went into action. The black nurse introduced himself as Jonas and shook Danny’s hand. His grip was confident, strong, and Danny instantly felt more at ease with where they were. A female nurse with blonde highlights in her hair rebandaged Danny’s leg with supplies from a large medical kit while Jonas and one of the residences, Adam, looked over Miranda and the boys. Jesse and Hunter had a few scratches from flying debris and Miranda had bruised her shoulder, but nothing serious. The old people kept shaking their heads and marveling at how lucky Danny and his family were. They asked about the prayer group and if Danny had seen them at the church. Danny nodded.