6:00 Hours: A Dystopian Novel (6 page)

2.

              “Hey, hon? Did you see the forecast for today?”

              Danny looked up at his wife, mouth full of sandwich, and shook his head.

              “Really windy. Possible tornado warnings.”

              Miranda’s brow was furrowed. She sat beside Danny with the newspaper in her hand. She had recently painted her nails a pale sea-green and stretched her fingers out to avoid smudges.

              “It is a little breezy outside,” Danny remarked. “Doesn’t look too bad yet.”

              “Let’s just keep an eye on it.”

              The couple sat in silence while Miranda waited for her nails to dry and Danny finished his sandwich. As he chewed, he kept his ear perked, and sure enough, the wind was picking up. He took his plate to the sink and went to the front door. Jesse and Hunter were playing airplane, and had their arms stretched out to catch the wind, their hair flying back. Danny was startled by the strength of the wind and looked to the trees. Their branches were stretched out like the boys’ arms, the leaves straining to keep hold. The sky was getting darker as well, especially in the north. Danny frowned at the swelling clouds.

              “Come inside, boys!” he called. “It’s too windy out here!”

              “Whee!” Jesse screamed. “Look, Dad! We’re flying!”

              “That’s great, man! Fly on inside, ok?”

              The boys circled in for a landing and then came running inside the house, making whooshing noises. Danny took another look at the trees before closing the door. He thought he could feel some faint drops of rain.

              “I’m going to look and see what the TV is saying, Miranda!” he called.

              “Ok!”

              Danny switched on the weather channel and rested his elbows against the back of the couch. He could hear Jesse and Hunter in the kitchen, chattering to their mom as she made them both sandwiches. The weatherman was pointing to a map of the country, showing strong winds and storms.

              “There was an earthquake on the Emerald Coast,” he added. “And sources down there hypothesize possible hurricanes or a tsunami as a result.”

              Danny’s heart skipped a beat. His sister was there. Fighting panic, Danny grabbed the landline off the wall and dialed her cell number. Nothing. She must not have reception. Danny hung up and dialed again. This time he called his mother’s number.

              “Mom? It’s me.”

              “Danny! I was just about to call you. Your sister is in a bit of trouble.”

              “A bit? Mom, there is an earthquake! They’re talking about a tsunami!”

              “Honey, calm down. I talked to her. She’s staying with a family. She has a car. I’m sure she has plenty of time to get to safety.”

              Danny squinted and rubbed the bridge of his nose. His mother always did this. She glossed over the seriousness of a situation because she didn’t want Danny to have a panic attack. It was frustrating to be kept in the dark and treated like he was a fragile vase who would break at the slightest touch. When he was little and the family had to go to the basement or evacuate before a big storm, he never knew what was going on until afterwards. Being that ignorant scared Danny more than the truth ever could. It’s why he started researching and prepping on his own. He wanted to be aware of all the risks out there so he could be prepared. His mother didn’t quite understand, and saw Danny’s dedication to prepping as an obsession spawned by a fearful spirit.

              “You can’t stop bad things from happening, Danny,” she would say.

              “I know that!” Danny replied. “But that doesn’t mean I have to face them without any way to protect myself. Being prepared means staying alive. It means staying safe.”

              Danny didn’t say much else to his mother about the coast. She just reaffirmed her confidence in his sister and asked how things were where Danny was. Windy, he replied. Tornado risk. When he hung up, it had begun to rain harder. The rain blew sideways. The sun had disappeared.

              “We should get ready to move downstairs,” Danny told his family.

              “Is there a storm, Dad?” Hunter asked, widening his brown eyes.

              “Yep. A big one. Why don’t you go get your storm blanket from your room?”

              Hunter dashed off to the bedroom he and his brother shared and returned with a large camouflage fleece. Whenever there was a big storm and they had to take shelter in the basement, Hunter wrapped himself in his fleece to make himself feel more secure. He hated loud noises and the blanket helped muffle some of them. Jesse was not so sensitive, though he also had a blanket he kept in the basement. Danny liked to keep blankets in case they needed to protect themselves from flying debris, should the worst happen and a wall or the roof collapsed. Miranda gathered some water bottles, flashlights, and the battery-operated radio. She nodded at Danny.

              “Ready,” she said.

              “Should I bring some food down? Have you eaten?” Danny asked.

              “Good idea. Can you get some string cheese from the fridge? And one of the bananas?”

              Danny obeyed. With everyone ready, the family descended into the basement. The door was right by the storeroom, so Danny got a glimpse into his stockpile right before he went down the stairs. Just seeing his supplies made his heart settle into a normal, steady beat. They had done this many times before. The storm would pass, the wind would become calm, and everything would be all right. Just like always.

              Danny’s basement - next to his stockpile - was the fulfillment of his prepper dreams. He had bought the house in large part due to that basement. It was finished and had only one window, a little rectangle of glass, high up by the ceiling. He had also invested in building a small 3X6 shelter that was bolted to the concrete floor in case the situation got so bad, it was no longer even safe in the basement. It was just large enough to comfortably fit two small boys and a 110-pound woman, and uncomfortably squeeze in Danny, as well. The rest of the basement looked less like a tornado hide-out and more like a rec room, which was how Danny wanted it. There was a TV, a series of bean bag chairs, and a long-haired rug that the twins liked to roll on. They liked to pretend they were giving the rug a haircut with their fingers acting as scissors. When they were settled, the boys finished their sandwiches and got out the board games that Danny kept in the mini shelter. Stretching out on the rug like Bengal cats, they began setting up the Sorry! board. Danny turned on the TV and lowered the volume to not disturb the kids.

              “If you are seeing thunderstorms in your area, expect stronger winds and possible tornadoes,” the TV droned.

              “Weather reports are bull,” Danny exclaimed.

              “Dan,” Miranda said softly.

              “Sorry. It’s just that they give these really dull reports. People don’t know how serious stuff really is when they just state empty facts like that. What does that mean, “stronger winds?” They need to give people specifics.”

              “It’s kind of like your mom. She’s focused on not scaring anyone.”

              “That makes more sense, coming from Mom. But these are weather professionals. Government agencies. These guys are supposed to protect people. They could get a lot of people killed by not being thorough enough.”

              Miranda nodded, breaking off a piece of her banana and popping it into her mouth. She was used to Danny’s complaints about the efficiency of government agencies and education. That’s why he took the time to teach people himself from experience. Danny listened to the TV for a few more minutes, shaking his head.

              “Bull,” he repeated, this time in a softer tone so the boys wouldn’t hear. Outside, the wind kept getting stronger. If he looked up at the window, Danny could see the dark silhouettes of trees whipping around, clawing at the sky. TV footage of other areas showed signs slapping and bending, garbage flying through the air, and ripples of lightning on the horizon. Something wicked was coming. 

              Danny and his family had been in the basement for about an hour when the TV announced funnel clouds being spotted in their area. The wind outside roared. Hunter wrapped himself in his blanket and sat between Danny’s knees, covering his ears. Danny put his hand on his son’s head.

              “It’s okay, buddy. You’re doing great.”

              The house began to shake. Danny and Miranda both looked up when they heard breaking glass and the rush of wind grew louder. The windows upstairs were getting smashed in. They glanced at each other. Danny could see the fear in Miranda’s eyes, but she had her jaw set. This wasn’t any worse than what they had experienced that first big storm, when it was just them. A few broken windows wasn’t a big deal. The ceiling light flickered.

              “Daddy?” Hunter whimpered.

              Jesse, who had been lying on the rug, muttering about how bored he was, became more agitated and ran over to his mother. Miranda pulled him into her lap and kissed the top of his head. After flickering for a few moments, the light went out, along with the TV, which shrunk into a pinpoint of white in the center of the screen before vanishing completely.

“Power’s out,” Danny declared.

Without the sound of the television, the noise from the storm became even more violent. Everyone could hear thumping against the side of the house.

“What is that?” Jesse asked. “What’s that noise?”

“Branches or something, honey,” Miranda explained.

With Hunter still hiding between his knees, Danny reached over to the radio and switched it on. The channel was fuzzy, but he could hear a man’s voice speaking.

“Shh,” Danny said, even though no one was talking.

They all listened intently. The man was describing what he was seeing, though his voice was barely discernible above the roar from wherever he was located.

“Funnels!” he barked. “I see three! They’re getting closer! They’re going to touch down!”

There was another voice, shouting something. The noise grew louder. Danny thought he could hear someone screaming, “Drive!” Danny realized with horror that they were listening to a tornado chaser, and he was about to be caught up in one of those funnels. With a jolt, Danny switched off the radio.

“What was happening, Dad?” Jesse asked, half of his face buried in his mother’s neck.

“Nothing, Jess,” Danny replied. “We lost the channel, is all.”

Faced with the reality that his sons might have heard a man die, Danny understood why his mother would hide the truth from him. The shaking worsened. Hunter and Jesse both began to breathe faster, panic rising up in their eyes. Danny looked at the window in the corner and saw the pane quake. Before he could speak, it shattered, sprinkling glass across the room. Cold air rushed in, torn leaves and trash riding in on the wave.  The noise was unbearable. It was the kind of noise that made all thought impossible. Even with his hands clapped over his ears so hard it hurt, the noise ripped through Danny’s brain like a shotgun. Hunter clung to his father’s knees, his face buried in Danny’s chest. Danny squeezed his elbows against Hunter’s ears and bent his head down so he felt his son’s hair on his face. Everything shook. They needed to get to the mini shelter.

“Miranda! Shelter!” he shouted.

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 scrounging 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.