Friday, April 22, 2016

The Earth is Red with Clay: Part 6- Finale

It was the Apocalypse all over again; the horror of it summarized in the span of ten minutes. I have never heard anything so loud in my whole life- the popping of bullets, the thunder of crumbling rock, the roar of tank fire. It drowned out all the cries of the people around me, including my own. I quickly lost Dandy in the fray as Atari pulled me into a shielded nook in the wall, and pulled against his iron grip. He shoved me into the corner, ordering me to stay, before running back out into the massacre. Fire consumed my vision before I could see where he went. I screamed as loud as my lungs would allow, uttering nothing but incoherent noises. I couldn’t watch; I just cried hoping someone would find me- if there was anyone left. My body shook with my sobbing and the deep shaking of the earth below me. I looked up only once- into the black glazed mask of one soldiers, his rifle aimed at my nose. Another soldiers knocked the gun, ruining the aim and sending a bullet cracking into the wall. He fervidly pointed at me, mumbling something to his comrade, before grabbing my arm and hoisting me off the ground. I wanted to scream but instead my body froze, fear stiffening my limbs till my consciousness quit and I collapsed into the soldiers arms.

                I don’t know how long a stayed unconscious, maybe for days. The burns on my forehead and shins are healing and the bruise on my arm is as purple as ever. They tell me I’m in Headquarters, though I have yet to see any of its glory. My only view is the gray cement of a prison cell and the shiny metallic table that takes up the majority of the floor space.
                I don’t know how long I’ve been awake, maybe for days. There is no night or day in this tiny room, no visitors to tell the time. Everything for the rest of days looks bleak and dreary and hopeless.

                I am just about to drift back into a fitful sleep when the door of the cell finally clanks open. Two guards precede my guest- the census man. My first reaction is to leap across the table and smack him clear through the wall, but his words stop me first. “Dandy’s going to be okay. I didn’t want to give you any news until it was good news.” His face sags and his mouth only curls in the impression of a smirk. “I’m sorry I haven’t been to see you sooner.”
                I pull up a chair to the table, leaning eagerly over the edge. “Go on.” My curiosity is hard to contain. I want to know everything that happened- I missed so much of it. I want to know who was still alive, who I needed to mourn. I want answers.
                Statton pulls out the other chair and sits down. “The boy is in critical care but not gone. We were worried about Dandy for a while but she pulled through.” The thought of Dandy being hurt for any amount of time dug into my stomach. “Their parents are spun up but physically okay. They all know that you are alive.”
                I lean back in my chair, satisfied with his answers so far. But he’s not finished yet. “Go on…”
                “Right, about… our conversation before… you still might not be…”
                “Your daughter?” I spit the words out like venom. In all my years of praying for a father, why did it have to be him?
                “But there is still the… slight chance. The genetics lab is still out for testing so, neither of us will know for a couple days.” He looks sheepishly down at the table, unable to face my gaze.
                My pitiful snickering catches him off guard. Look at us, sitting in a prison cell, thinking that the world could change overnight- like human nature was buried in the earth along with all the other monsters. The Apocalypse will never truly die, some part of it will always survive in the wiring of the human brain, bound to make the same mistakes as its ancestors.
                “Is it gone- the town?” I know the answer- I saw too much destruction not to. But I want him to say it out loud, to admit it.
                “Yes.”
                Always more destruction- even in building you must tear up the earth.
                “There is still a lot left to do…” he starts. “I’d like to build things, rather than break them, for a change. Do you… care to join me?” I think it’s the closest to reconciliation as I’m going to get.
                “Do you think we can?” I ask, more to the void of humanity than any particular person. “Can we start over after falling so far?”
                “It wouldn’t be the first time.” He flashes me that tired attempt at a sympathetic grin. He stands up from his seat and saunters towards the door.
                “Wait!” I holler just as the lock clicks open. I have to know one last thing before he leaves. “What was your daughter’s name? Just in case… in case it’s me.” I’ll regret fostering this kind of hope later.
                “Johanna. Johanna Synclair Statton.” I can almost see the memories that flutter across his mind’s eye when he says that name.
                “I’m sorry you lost her.” If it is hard to lose a parent, I can’t imagine what it must be like to lose a child. It must have drove him mad.
                “I’m sorry you lost her too.”
                He doesn’t say another word as he leaves the room and lets the door close with a crashing bang.
                Maybe he needs to heal just as much as I do.
                Maybe he’s worth fixing too.

                Johanna Synclair… it doesn’t sound too bad, I suppose. 

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