The Days and Months We Were First Born- the Unraveling (14 page)

Terrence Green:

Ok, Benny. Ok! Let me have one last eyewitness account with Jessie and then we can leave. I promise. Can you give me five minutes?

Ben’s voice is barely audible due to his distance from Terrence’s microphone.

Ben Sanders:

Go ahead, Terrence. But if you take more than five minutes, we’re not making it back to Bridgeport. We’ll have to go to Rahway, and who knows what we’ll find there. Five minutes!

Terrence Green:

Thanks, Benny. You’re the best!

Well, as you may have just heard, ladies and gentlemen, we’re going to have to go away shortly. Here’s a brief update. From what I can tell, there has been a pause in the fighting below, and there’s still a sizable crowd in the area. There are thousands at the Rockefeller University campus. There are just as many along York Avenue as far south as 60
th
Street and as far north as 74
th
Street. And there’s another huge mass along 68
th
Street, as far back as Madison Avenue. The crowd has been reduced to mere spectators, it seems. The fighters have made no progress. Everyone is waiting around for the next move.

So far, there have been thousands of casualties, all from the unsuccessful coalition. And the damage to everything is incredible. The courtyard and surrounding streets and pavement have been reduced to pebbles and dust. Makeshift barriers and places of protection have been destroyed. Human remains are scattered everywhere. It’s amazing that any of the adjacent buildings are still standing. The weapon
’
s globes have shredded through sidings of brick, metal, and glass as if they were cardboard and plastic. I can see clean through the Main Medical Building at the center of the complex. That building is little more than skeletal concrete and steel now.

The occupied building is nowhere near as damaged, though I doubt that there is a single window intact. The four gunners are still inside their globes, untouched. Every now and then, I’ll catch a glimpse of an individual gunner. Naturally, they stay out of sight to avoid sniper fire. I have tried to contact those inside, but haven’t been successful as of yet.

Jessie McCarthy is on the ground within the crowd at the Rockefeller University campus. We’ll try to reach him now.

Terrence turns a switch. And after a few seconds, Jessie’s voice is heard. He is having a conversation with one of the spectators. In the background, hundreds of people are singing an indistinct song in unison.

Terrence Green:

Jessie, this is Terrence. Do you hear me? Jessie, are you there?

Jessie breaks his conversation once he recognizes Terrence’s voice.

Jessie McCarthy:

Hello. Yes, I’m here, Terrence.

Terrence Green:

Hello, Jessie. We’re running out of fuel. We’re going to have to leave. Are you going to be all right with the crowd?

Jessie McCarthy:

Yeah, Terrence...I’ll be just fine. We seem to have a ceasefire. I haven’t heard a single shot in over twenty minutes.

Terrence Green:

Quickly, are there any new developments, Jessie?

Jessie McCarthy:

Not really….In the social room on the Rockefeller Campus, there is a debate among the surviving leaders. They are discuss
ing
how to carry the fight forward. Some want to fight into the night; others want to retreat and try again at daybreak tomorrow.

Not long ago, I returned from Rockefeller Hall, one of the many triages set up in the neighborhood. There were hundreds of people lying on the floor, on top of mats of clothing or whatever else
they
could
find
. Some are dying of injuries, some are dying of the cancer, and
some
are dying of both. The shortage of able physicians is obvious, but volunteers are doing what they can. Many of the volunteers are dying themselves.

Despite it all, the mood of the crowd is calm and determined. As you can hear, many people are chanting songs to keep their spirits up. It’s an indescribable feeling to be in the midst of all this, Terrence!

My friend, Akbar Zaheed, and I were just discussing his plans for nightfall.
They
are more or less the same as virtually everyone out here. He is determined to stay until someone can figure out a way to get at the occupiers. He and his group of three hundred arrived from Jersey City earlier this morning. He says that they will not leave until justice is served, and…

Ben Sanders:

Terrence! Look! We have something…toward downtown.

Terrence Green:

What in the…Jessie. Hold up Jessie. Hold up! We have something in the sky. It’s coming from the midtown area. It’s not a news copter…no…it’s a government aircraft. Yeah…it’s definitely a government aircraft, and it is heading in this direction! Sorry, Bennie, we cannot leave. Not yet!

Jessie McCarthy:

What’s it doing, Terrence? Is it for the crowd or is it for them?

Terrence Green:

I don’t know…The craft has closed in. It’s in front of the occupied building’s southwest corner. It’s just hovering there…Bennie, see if you can get us a better angle.

Jessie McCarthy:

Ok…ok, I see it now. Oh…is that an F67?

Terrence, Jessie, and Ben gasp as the F67 suddenly opens fire. In reaction,
the crowd cries in surprise,
then roars with approval as deafening screeches and explosions reverberate throughout.

Terrence Green:

Oh! The F67 just took down one of the stations! It has crashed to the street below! It’s taking on the occupiers!

Abruptly, Jessie is swept forward in a turbulent river of people. He is desperate in his attempt to negotiate the stampeding crowd. There are countless yells of excitement and insurmountable energy as the spectators have sensed the change in momentum. Jessie is too preoccupied with survival to report anything.

Terrence Green:

Oh my God! There’s complete chaos on the ground! The crowd is now closing in on the building! They’re dragging out the lifeless body of the gunner inside. The F67 is fighting the gunning station at the northwest corner! They are exchanging fire! The craft is moving around…damn, look at that thing move! Oh…Oh! It just took out the northwest gunner!

Jessie is still fighting for his life as he runs with the crowd and tries to maneuver sideways to safety. The engines of the F67 roar. The craft is moving to the other side of the building. People are feverish. There is yelling in different languages, gunshots blast into the air. The exchange of weapon fire between the building and the craft resumes. Jessie continues to scream.

Jessie McCarthy:

Excuse me! Excuse me! Goddamnit! Excuse me!

Terrence Green:

The fight has shifted entirely to the south side of the building into the courtyard! The gunners cannot penetrate the craft’s defensive weaponry. Oh…Oh! It just struck below the third globe! It’s dangling…and the gunner is still firing away! Look! People are climbing into the building! They are lifting themselves with rope at all sides, there are hundreds of them! They’re taking the building! They’re taking the building! It’s a mob to end all mobs! Oh! The third globe just fell! Jessie! Are you seeing this, Jessie? Jessie, are you alright?

Jessie McCarthy:

Fuck this shit…I’m out of here!

Jessie’s microphone pops as it hits the ground. He is running away from the charging crowd, away from t
he fight, away from everything.

Terrence Green:

Jessie! Damnit, Jessie! Ok…ok, fine. Ok, ladies and gentlemen, that leaves me to report to...

Ben Sanders:

What is it doing? It’s not firing on the last globe.

Terrence Green:

I think…I think it’s aiming for something…oh, look! Look! There’s a guy on the roof!

The final globe fires every weapon it has at the F67. In response,
t
he F67 fires its defensive weapons. The man on the roof launches three missiles of his own. The first two explode on the ground, killing scores of people below. The third missile strikes the target.

Terrence Green:

The F67’s been hit! The F67’s been hit! It’s swirling out of control…it’s going to crash!

There is a high-pitched screech as the F67 launches one last missile. Next, the craft hits the ground and explodes.

At the same time, the missile detonates inside the occupied building, setting off its own fantastic series of explosives. The first blast is pronounced, the others are less severe.

Terrence Green:

Oh man…It’s going to fall…Bennie, get us out of here!

The building creaks and moans as the top levels start to tilt. The levels destroyed in the detonation are giving way. The entire structure is collapsing to the ground in a cloud of dust. The crowd is terrified. There are screams of panic and hopelessness as thousands of people reverse course to run for their lives in vain.

Terrence Green:

Go Bennie! Go! Go…

-End of Transcript-

The Witness

I was walking along South Avenue in Garwood, NJ.
The sun was setting, the long and eventful day was coming to a swift end, and there were storefronts to both sides of the dusty, two-way road. A couple of fast food restaurants, a couple of banks, a grocery store, a PCD shop, and a SkyCharge payment center were all dark inside and rummaged through as I passed them. However, there was a funeral home on Oak Street, and
it
remained untouched. I was confident no one was inside, but I kid you not, the place looked as if it was open for business. As if you could walk right in, sit at a desk, and arrange a funeral. It was one of the new wonders of this strange and dark world.

I felt exhaustion in my bones
, but my mind was active with thought. I had to make a lot of decisions, decisions that were no longer made for
me, and I had to make them soon
. Where am I going to sleep; when will I run into people again; how will I know to trust them; how will I find transportation; and where in the hell am I going in the first place were among the questions I pondered.

I thought of David and the militia. I wondered how they were faring in that
damn fool’s
battle of theirs. I wondered how many of them were dead already. I also thought of the insanity of everything—everything that had occurred that day. When I woke up that morning, exile, and wandering through Jersey alone wasn’t how I envisioned the day going.

And even as momentum and wounded pride carried me west, I imagined my return to New York City. Maybe within a few weeks, maybe within a few months, or maybe many years down the line, I was certain I was going to go back. How different things would be, who knows. But whatever the changes, I knew I would find a way to fit in.

Maybe I would see David there after all. He would tell me how and when the Last Standers deposed that crazy bastard, Wu. And we would reminisce about the wild times we shared, and tell each other the stories of our adventures since my departure. The prospect of this reunion warmed me. It was a blanket of reassurance as I moved forward into the unknown.

I was unprepared for what happened next.

While crossing Center Street, I noticed the pavement in front of me. It reflected light, but the light came from the east behind me, not the west to my front.

Perplexed, I turned around.

“Oh…” was all that I could say.

In the direction of New York, a brilliant, orange-red light expanded over the distance. It was as bright as any rising or setting sun. I shielded my eyes but stood my ground.

Then I heard the distant sound of an eruption. It roared like a volcano as it crackled and spewed its contents skyward.

The eruption was followed by a shockwave.

Buildings vibrated in a swift and invisible stream. As soon as I recognized it for what it was, it was on me.

The energy was immense. It vibrated through my body, threw me to the ground as if I were weightless, and cracked the very pavement under my feet!

The surrounding buildings shook to their cores. Glass that had not shattered before shattered then. And unfixed objects crashed to the ground with violent force!

I curled in
a
fetal position and screamed. I screamed in anticipation of being swept up, burned, and torn apart as if I were made of straw or wood. I didn’t want to die this way. It was going to be violent
,
my flesh and blood body caught in this violence. And goddamnit, I screamed!

But I didn’t die.

After a while, the whistling noise and whipping wind stopped, and things calmed down.

Surprised to be among the living, I uncurled, stood up, and felt around my body. I felt my arms, my legs, my crotch, my neck, and my face to make sure all was intact. My movements were slow. I felt as if I had suffered a beating in ice-cold weather.

I
only
found
a few nicks and bruises. Convinced that I was whole, I looked back toward
s the east.

The project towers of Elizabeth, which were about ten kilometers behind me, were now a jagged and crumbled mess of half destroyed buildings. A testament to shady construction.

The orange-red light had evolved into a pink-reddish cloud, with one tall and determined beam serving as its root. The beam fueled the cloud as it spread out in the shape of a mushroom. The cloud had a ceiling of a couple of thousand meters. And inside it, there were random flashes of pink, neon lightening.

In all its strangeness, and potential danger, it was the most beautiful sight I had ever seen. I was awestruck by this beauty. Trapped by it, like a mous
e
stuck to a glue pad. My instincts told me to run as it was slowly but steadily approaching. But that instinct was overruled by my desire to go nowhere. By my desire to witness.

The cloud
carried
the sound of a thousand tornadoes with violent thunder and turmoil within. It looked as if it was going to expand forever. It looked as if it was going to swallow the planet whole. I looked at this spectacle not with the interest of a grown man, but with the interest of a child. After a time I didn’t bother to keep track of, maybe a minute or two, the tower of light at the cloud’s root subsided, as if some unseen hand had flipped a switch.

My trance was broken when I heard the sound of rumbling. I looked from the sky to my front, and noticed that hundreds if not thousands of animals were stampeding in my direction! There were rats, cats, dogs, and possums. There were raccoons, deer, skunks, and even a goat. All were running as fast as they could in
a tumble
down South Avenue. At the same time, I noticed a mass of fleeing birds overhead. They were a dark and screeching cloud. They were vast. They were millions. And they were urgent in their flight to the west.

I fumbled for my gun as the animals on the ground approached. I was clumsy and unraveled and certain that I was about to be trampled. But once they reached me, the animals rushed right around me. They moved with precision as they skirted past my dancing legs. I screamed like a fool, but the animals paid me no mind. They were running from the approaching cloud. To them I was inconsequential, an obstacle such as a tree or stump.

Where the hell the animals came from, I will never know. But I knew terrified animals in such numbers couldn’t be wrong. I turned around and I ran. I ran with the various creatures as fast as my legs could take me. Away from the direction of New York, and away from the encroaching and beautiful storm.

***

I made it as far as Westfield, NJ, the next town over, before my body gave in. I collapsed in a random yard off West Broad Street. The artificial-turfed lawn was cool beneath me. I was out of breath
, my lungs burning, and my throat raw
. I just la
y there, waiting
. Whatever the cloud was, if it wanted me, it had me.

It was night by this time, but the sky was anything but dark. The humongous cloud was radiant. It didn’t drift with the wind, nor did it fall to the ground in a heap. It was stationary. It was dense. And it slowly spilled contents to the earth below.
It
spilled in the form of a rain or hail, pink in hue, and with occasional sparks of brilliant light. The cloud didn’t reach overhead, but it was uncomfortably close. It was perhaps as close as Elizabeth, NJ, not even twenty kilometers away.

After I regained some of my strength, and determined that death wasn’t imminent, my focus turned to finding shelter for the night. The home of the lawn I had collapsed on appeared to be a good candidate. It was a two level home, rectangular in shape and with aluminum and glass siding. The home had long and elegant, carbon painted columns that stretched from the roof to the porch deck. The roof had two busted solar panels—one on each side. Both were about 15X5 meters, and looked as if they hadn’t been used in years. A large triangular antenna sat in between them. This was evidence that the home was self-sufficient at one point, and then converted to the SkyCharge network.

***

I entered the house through a back window. Once inside, my gun was drawn and my lighter was in hand to guide me through. The first place I went to was the kitchen. The kitchen was orderly and untouched by intruders.
Sleek
appliances
populated the counters
, and there were jars filled with sugar, cookies, candy and flour. The cabinets were made of layered glass. The pattern was inverted wood. And everything smelled of faint
, stale
pine.

As I searched, I only found a few cans of soup under the sink. There was no water or drink of any kind to be had. I took the cans and added them to my provisions, then I went to explore upstairs.

There were four bedrooms on the second floor. One room was for a small child, a girl who couldn’t have been older than five. She had a wealth of dolls, toys, and easy-readers stacked in every corner. The second room was for a teenager, a boy who was into sports. He had posters of athletes on all four walls, and a holographic video game console that sat at the end of his bed. The thir
d room was rather bland looking;
it must have been reserved for guests. The walls were white, the furniture was tan colored and cheap, and there was a solid brown quilt on the queen-sized bed. The master bedroom, by contrast, was large enough to fit the other three rooms combined. It was well furnished with a king sized bed, drawers, two nightstands, a desk, and a communications panel. The carpet was thick and colored ruby red. The room had its own bathroom, its own cabinet, even a non-working refrigerator. And I found a battery-powered light in the spacious closet.

The master bedroom was my room for the night.

Now that I had a place to sleep, my first order of business was turning on the small radio. I was desperate to find out what happened. But any news concerning New York was non-existent. The only stations available were from other parts of the world, and most were in foreign languages. From what I could tell, the contents of the stations were in four categories: reports of devastation, self-righteous promotion, conspiracy theories, and religious zealots.

With the world falling apart, it was amazing that anyone had access to radio in the first place. The lucky few who did were able to find satellite transmitters, hack into an unguarded system, and create their own mediums to broadcast worldwide. Among
them
were journalists and journalist wannabes. They didn’t broadcast for profit. There were no companies left to pay. Instead, they did it to be heard. The positive side was keeping a dark and different world informed; and the negative side was on demonstration that day.

The radio search was fruitless. I left the radio on the nightstand, took the light, and entered the bathroom. Inside, I took a sponge bath using water from the toilet’s back tank. It was the most sanitary option I had. The faucets had long stopped dispensing usable water.

After the sponge bath, it was time for dinner. I had a can of New England clam chowder and a can of sweet corn. I had made a goofy attempt to heat the cans by placing them above a stainless steel bowl with a cloth on fire inside. The experiment was a disaster. The cloth burned out quickly and left an awful smoke, and the cans were difficult to steady. I went ahead and ate the meal cold, and washed it down with a bottle of water.

After dinner, it was time to get some sleep. In the bed I could hear the storm outside. It raged into the night with violent bursts of thunder
and
occasional explosions. It was as if someone was microwaving a gigantic bag of popcorn. This is what it must have been to sleep in a war bombarded city, I imagined. Having to block out the noise
—
and having to ignore the fear.

As the night went on, I thought of the poor souls from my militia. If they were near that explosion, they had no chance. No chance at all. If David was among them, he was as good as gone, too.

It was also starting to sink in. The event that morning, as hurtful and as traumatic as it was, had saved my very life. I would have been right in the middle of it all if I had stayed. But the relief of self-preservation, and proof that my intuition was correct were bittersweet.

What happened to the poor kids at the Last Stander’s orphanage? Did they find proper shelter in time? What was the damage inflicted upon my hometown? What will remain and what will be gone? And furthermore, what in the hell is that pink substance falling from the cloud? What effects will it have? I pondered those questions and many more until sleep overcame me.

***

I woke from a hard and dreamless sleep that next morning. I opened my eyes, and found myself lying in the same spot as before. I didn’t even toss or turn.

It took me
a
minute to remember
wher
e I was and how had I got there.
I reached for the light and
turned
it on. The bedspread I had used to block out the window had left the room as dark as nightfall.

I checked the time. It was 11am according to the gold watch I had found in a side drawer. My PCD had expired long ago without a way to recharge it. It was disorienting not know
ing
the time of day. The watch was now mine.