Under the Gray Skies Read online

  Radiation be damned, after what I figured was seven days in that tight space, I needed out. I was down to my last bottles of rain water, and a few bites of food.

  I turned my body away from the hole and pressed my back against a wall of debris, then started using my feet to kick blocks of rubble outward.

  It was my own personal game of Jenga. All it would take was one wrong move to have everything tumble down. The only difference was, it wasn’t a game, and the loss would be my life.

  FIVE – BIRTH

  Each hour, each minute, I made some progress. With every inch that the hole grew bigger more air flowed into my prison. It carried an odor I couldn’t place. I had to get that opening as wide as my shoulders at the very least. Despite how much wider I made the opening, I still couldn’t see what was beyond the hole. It opened up to what looked like an overcast sky. A dark overcast sky moments before a storm hit, however I saw no clouds.

  Only grayness.

  It instilled in me a fear that somehow I was high above everything. I vowed not to look out. Simply because I wanted nothing to hinder my determination.

  It was days, it had to have been, before finally I believed my escape route was wide enough. I was literally going to crawl out blindly. Unable to see what was before, below or above me I only hoped that all my efforts wouldn’t be in vain and I didn’t fall and break every bone in my body.

  My view of the outside was like looking through a window. For the first time in days I extended my upper body out of the hole, trying to gauge and understand what I had to face.

  The mound of debris formed a slope, but not a steep one. I couldn’t see where it ended though. It seemed my visibility was limited to only a mere ten feet.

  It was enough for me to know I could push out my backpack and then crawl out myself.

  Before doing so, I said goodbye to my sister. I had ripped a t-shirt to cover my nose and mouth comfortably and used the other half to cover Lindsay’s hand.

  After my brief farewell, I shoved out the backpack and rested it next to the hole, then I began my escape.

  It wasn’t as easy as I hoped. My head and shoulders fit through just fine, but the opening grew snug around my hips and without any way to get a real footing, it was a ‘wiggle and inch out’ maneuver. It wasn’t working. It suddenly hit me that while my mind used the analogy that my air pocket of rubble was like a womb, the mound of debris wasn’t giving birth to me and going out head first probably wasn’t the best idea.

  It was wiser and safer to emerge breach. It was awkward lifting my legs to that hole, even though it was only about two feet from the floor of my cave. Once my knees had reached the edge of the hole, I rolled over to crawl out belly down.

  It was the first time in a while that my legs were completely extended, and they didn’t want to straighten out. Nor did my back, it felt as if I had frozen in a half bent position. My arms were still strong and I used them to push and crawl backward, I found it easier to get my hips through.

  My legs, partially bent, dangled and rested against the slope.

  Thankfully, the mound wasn’t a straight shot down or my pack would have rolled. It rested not far from where I pushed it out.

  Once fully out, I turned to be on my back once again. I slipped some, but was able to stop from falling. My breaths were rapid, I found myself panicking.

  I looked down. I couldn’t see anything further than a few feet in front of my shoes. It was like the thickest, darkest fog I had ever seen. I knew it wasn’t fog, it couldn’t be. It inhibited me from seeing what was before me and below me. Grabbing my pack, I placed it over my shoulder and slowly and cautiously crawled down on my back. Standing wasn’t an option, not on that mound and not with my legs and back being so stiff.

  There was a red crushed soda can that protruded slightly from the rubble right by my left foot. So inching down until it was next to my eyes, I made a mental note that I had made it about five, five and a half feet. Still no sign of the ground below.

  I found my next visual point by my foot, a blue piece of debris, I used it as a reference point. Once I got to it, I knew I had made it another five and a half feet. It became my small goal in getting down. Finding something to focus on, arriving at it and moving on.

  I’d look up and couldn’t see where I had come from, nor could I see what was below. I kept count, it was after I hit my eighth goal that visibility opened up enough for me to see the ground. It was still a good twenty feet down. Whatever mist, or fog that blocked me from seeing below me, literally hovered over the area. It was dense and dark.

  How did I get so far up there? How did I survive that?

  The nearer I got to the bottom, I could see there was water on the ground, like a thin stream. It was easier to see the closer I got to the end of my journey.

  Once I hit the bottom, my left foot splashed in the water. It was only about two inches deep. I realized I didn’t have the agility to stand up from my position and I had to turn to my side so I could.

  Crammed in a hole for ten days locked my body into some sort of crocked mode. Even with both feet planted firmly on the ground, my knees were slightly bent and my back was at a forty five degree angle as I stared down to the ground. It hurt to move, and I was extremely stiff.

  Using my backpack, I placed it on the mound, faced it, and with both hands on the pack, I slowly pushed myself to a better upright position. I was still hunched, but not as bad. I shouldered the pack and turned around to see what was before me.

  Somewhere in my mind, in my fantasy, I expected to see rescue workers. My emergence would be victorious and perhaps I’d shout out, “Hey! Over here!”

  Their shocked faces would reflect their surprise that I had survived. People would rush to my aid, give me water to quench my thirst, a blanket for warmth and help me with walking.

  It was a fantasy, an unrealized dream. Instead I emerged into a nightmare world, my deepest fears come true.

  There were no people, no workers, no recognizable landmarks or structures. It was a gray area reduced to sticks and stones, and even though it wasn’t very far, for as far as I could see there was nothing but mounds of rubble.

  SIX – DELTA

  Not only was I in an unfamiliar city, I was also in a state that I have never visited before in my life, three thousand miles from home. I wouldn’t have a clue where I was even if the city hadn’t crumbled.

  Whatever it was that happened was bigger than even I originally thought. No one had been through the area to look. The mounds of debris were all that remained of the airport and roadways.

  I had to get my bearings. There was no sun to look up to, the gray skies blocked that. I had to find a way out of the disaster zone. No one was looking for me.

  The water moved across my feet soaking into my shoes making my socks and feet wet. I looked all around. I remembered seeing the city skyline when Lindsay’s husband dropped us off at the airport. I moved through the rubble, away from the mound I had just descended from. As I cleared it I saw that most of it was a roadway. The road had lifted and acted like a bulldozer, bringing everything with it as it moved, pushing until it formed a huge mountain of debris.

  Finally, I had cleared enough of the rubble to get a good view, trying to make heads or tails of where I was.

  Twisted metal, the remains of the tram rail wrapped around blocks of debris like a ribbon around a present. The water reached my ankles and as it did, I caught a glimpse of the city skyline across the bay.

  Or what was left of it.

  Even with the overcast sky, I could see it was crippled, only one or two buildings remained partially standing.

  The city was gone, I couldn’t head there, but it did give me direction.

  I had to walk away from it, which was east.

  Turning to go east my weakened legs gave way and I tumbled into the water. I didn’t even know if I was hurt. The water felt good against my skin. My flesh was parched and needed every splash of that liquid. The positive thing was
that for an instant I didn’t feel gross. I could only image what I looked like, or smelled like.

  My fall told me I was weak and I needed assistance if I was going to make it any distance. I searched diligently and found a piece of metal about three feet long. It was heavy but it would serve its purpose as a walking stick.

  After stumbling to stand, I walked slowly with my back to the skyline.

  The further I moved from the mound of debris that served as my entombment the better I assessed what was going on.

  Cars were everywhere, upside down and piled on top of each other. Had I reached the parking lot of the airport? Was that why I was seeing so many cars? It also explained why I hadn’t seen any bodies. Surely with all the destruction, there’d be bodies. I could smell them. I just couldn’t see them.

  Not far, or long into my walk the sky darkened causing me to look at my watch. It was only two in the afternoon, yet it felt and looked like night was coming. I soon discovered there was some sort of freak storm brewing.

  The sky above me swirled with threatening black clouds and flashes of lightening shot through them.

  I was out in the open and needed to find shelter. Maybe one of the cars would serve as protection, I just needed to find an accessible one. Just when that thought hit me, as I searched for a viable car, a plane came into view. It was somewhat in the distance and lay on top of smashed cars.

  The nearer I drew to it I saw the wings were off and the body was dented as its belly lay near to the ground.

  Apparently, like the tram, it had been thrown and rolled.

  The plane was tilted with one door open. I focused on that. My destination.

  Blasting sounds of thunder unlike anything I ever heard caused my ears to ring and the ground to tremble. It had gotten darker in a snap of my fingers and the plane was illuminated ominously during the continuous flashes of lightening.

  Whether getting in a metal tube was smart or not, it was my only option. I needed shelter from the storm that was moments away from striking.

  It looked easier than it was in reality.

  Even with the door of the plane open, it was still too high for me. Thankfully, the plane had rolled on top of smashed cars. After getting my back pack inside, I used the cars as a ladder to climb inside.

  The plane was tilted, giving the interior a sloped effect. The second I entered I caught a whiff of an all too familiar smell. One I had lived with for days.

  Death.

  The seats were empty, and I didn’t see bodies. The smell came from somewhere. Where?

  I had entered through what I assumed was the door between coach and first class. I looked to my right then left, it seemed like the plane was empty. Then again, the interior was dark. Even though I believed I had acquired great night vision, I needed light, no I wanted it. I was tired of not seeing anything. There had to be a flashlight somewhere. Deciding that I would search the galley or go near the cockpit, I made my way up the slanted aisle of first class. It wasn’t too hard to walk, as long as I held onto the seats. I figured it was first class because it was the front of the plane, the seats were bigger, but it wasn’t as luxurious as my mind imagined it would be. Bagged blankets and tiny pillows were on the floor along with tiny bottles of water.

  Still, no bodies, no people.

  But something was in there and it was dead. I knew the smell. It burned my nostrils, and I kept my t-shirt kerchief over my nose and mouth. After setting my backpack on a seat, I believed I knew where the smell came from. With each step, it grew stronger. I crossed the small doorway which led to the galley. It was impossible to even walk. Metal carts, cases of water, and other packed items were everywhere. It was evident it was a free for all for stock when the plane rolled. Standing there, looking over the pile of items, I spotted the small open latch door on the side of the galley. It wasn’t big, like a cabinet, but clearly I could see items secured against that door. Two of which were a pair of flashlights in brackets.

  Bingo.

  I began my climb around the items that rolled against the left side of the plane where I not only discovered the flashlights, I discovered the source of the smell.

  The flight attendants must have been preparing the plane when it all happened. They were buried beneath carts, stock and boxes. Limbs and arms extended out from the interior wreckage. I could make out a face partially. How many were there?

  I inched through a bit more, extended my reach and grabbed one of the flashlights. Upon turning it on, I discovered the walls were splattered with blood. The limbs that I saw had already started to decompose badly. I wanted to vomit, I really did. But I didn’t.

  I felt horrible for them, they had bounced around the cabin. Had they died instantly? Did they suffer? I just wanted to grab some water and get out, find someplace else, but then it started to rain. Another one of those torrential downpours, it sounded like buckets of water hitting the metal of the plane.

  Leaving at this moment wasn’t an option.

  I was stuck and had to make do.

  SEVEN – OF RESPECT AND SURVIVAL

  If I was going to make it home to my husband and children, I knew several things had to occur. One of which was getting out of the disaster zone. In order to do so I had to have my strength, be safe and be able to survive. I wasn’t sure where help was. It was out there somewhere. Apparently the city was abandoned. Perhaps it was a volatile and dangerous area. Maybe the storms kept rescue crews away. Whatever the case, they weren’t searching, or looking for me, I had to find them and I didn’t have a clue how near or far they were.

  My worst-case scenario thought was the event that happened was so big, no help could possibly get to our area yet.

  I had to find them if I wanted to survive.

  Lord knew how long that could take.

  At least it wasn’t the end of the world, or so I believed.

  I felt a sense of guilt about that plane, like I was robbing a graveyard. In a way I was. It was the resting place of what I determined was three of the flight crew. The plane was a wealth of everything I could use.

  Before I touched or took anything, I used those red airplane blankets and covered those who were killed. Then I said a prayer.

  I must have used half a case of water to clean myself up, and it took me awhile.

  The flight attendants had brought their luggage onboard and I borrowed one bag so I could carry my supplies that I had gathered. Borrowed was a loose term, there was no giving it back. It belonged to an attendant named, Amber. I was able to locate her among the bodies. If I was going to take her luggage it was the least I could. Find her, know who she was. I managed to remove her name tag, her wedding ring and watch. I placed those in a small bag and put them in the luggage for when I arrived at a help center and found her family. I wanted to thank them for what she had done posthumously for me. I borrowed some clothes, because after I cleaned up, I discovered the ones in my backpack had collected the scent of death from my tiny haven where I spent ten days.

  I used her hairbrush to get the knots and other disgusting stuff from my hair and her pair of good tennis shoes that were only slightly too big, but better than the slip on ones I wore. Kicking my way out of that hole took its toll on my shoes.

  I found myself spending an hour smelling the hand lotions and other toiletries just to have a scent in my nostrils that wasn’t one of rotting and death. They weren’t survival items, but dousing them on a cloth near my face masked some of the decomposition smells, plus being clean and feeling fresh gave me a little bit more strength, rejuvenating me.

  Amber, in a sense was a part of my journey out of the ruins.

  I scavenged the entire plane. I had nothing but time to kill and I went through it all. At least the items I could reach.

  The best find was the compass that was in the emergency cabinet with the flashlights. There were items in there for survival. I supposed it was in case the plane crashed somewhere like in the television series ‘Lost’.

  The matches, the w
ater, the tiny bottles of booze that could also be sanitizers, first aid kits, crackers and snacks boxes, along with anything else I deemed I would need, for wherever reason, I hoarded and packed.

  That small carry on suitcase was packed full to bursting. I found another backpack and stocked that, too.

  The storm raged on for most of the night. Each time I looked out the open door, I noticed the water was deeper.

  After taking what I could and since it was far from the bodies, I made myself comfortable in the back of the plane with a notebook and a couple pens I found in the galley.

  I was starving and I dined on two of those snack boxes. Salami, hummus, crackers and olives. I washed them down with two bottles of water and a couple airline size peach schnapps. A really bad combination.

  I threw up.

  It was too much, too fast, and I resigned myself that at least for a little bit, I would need to nibble.

  I started on a fresh page of that notebook, leaving the previous notes in there and oddly, I put in the two pictures that Amber had in her suitcase. Amber was beautiful, in her mid thirties with dark blonde hair. Her perfect smile in each picture showed how happy she was in her life. One photo was of her and a man I assumed was her husband. The other was Amber with two blonde haired children, no older than four and five. A boy and a girl. Like I had. It was sad to think they’d grow up without their mom. She reminded me so much of Kate Lee, a single mom who lived in apartment 217 at our complex.

  Kate was a great mom, worked hard. Sometimes she was late on rent. I covered for her a lot, because I knew she’d eventually pay me back.

  She always did.

  I wrote down my thoughts, my short goals, where I’d go, what I needed to find, along with a few thoughts on what I had been through. I didn’t write for long because I didn’t know how long the batteries would last in the flashlight. I needed the flashlights. After about fifteen minutes, I shut off the light and resigned myself to spending the rest of the night in the dark. My only brightness was the flashes of lightening.