'This rudderless world is not shaped by vague metaphysical forces. It is not God who kills the children. Not fate that butchers them or destiny that feeds them to the dogs. It's us. Only us. Streets stank of fire. The void breathed hard on my heart, turning its illusions to ice, shattering them. Was reborn then, free to scrawl own design on this morally blank world.' - Rorschach from Watchmen
Ashley and her boyfriend (she couldn't remember his name, Tyson, Tyrone? whatever, he had a sweet car) had been in the said automobile and just heading out of town when the first bomb dropped.
The entire car had been flung forward, smashing into those in front, and being smashed into by those which had also been thrown behind. Ashley had screamed before darkness engulfed her.
Now she was waking.
Her head was spinning and she felt like her skin was burning up.
Every part of her body was in pain, abused after being flung around so suddenly and violently.
She groaned miserably. She was still strapped into the car seat, though she was now upside down and her face and upper body were pressed against the filthy tarmac of the road. It was raining heavily, so heavily that the water was covering her mouth. She coughed roughly and took in a deep breath which served to make her chest ache. She probably had broken ribs and a punctured lung. It felt like she had.
She tried to look over to Tyson or Tyrone or whatever but she couldn't move her head, so instead she began to fiddle with her seat belt, finally releasing herself and dropping painfully to the ground.
She then dragged herself out of the over turned convertible.
She stared at amazement at the area around her; she didn't even recognise it, everything was smashed, broken down and burning. Bodies littered the ground. She shuddered and turned to go back under the car for Tyson/Tyrone. Ashley had to hold in a scream before rushing away from the car by scrambling back on her butt.
Tyson/Tyrone was dead. Most definitely dead. His head had been smashed to pieces on impact with the ground.
Ashley sat shivering for a while, the rain was very cold, it was dark, and she was more than aware that she was surrounded by the dead. It was through sheer luck that she was not one of them. She would have run screaming, but she was too shocked by the events and her body felt too sore.
In the distance she could hear the wails of sirens but with the amount of destruction on the streets it would be pretty difficult for any emergency vehicles to get into the city centre.
After a while she began to check herself over, she was covered in blood and cuts and swelling bruises. Her chest hurt more than anything else and her neck very stiff and sore.
It could have been a lot worse.
Touching her skin and hair she realised that she seemed to be heavily singed, as if fire had grazed over her body. But then that's what the explosion had felt like; like a flame of destruction and pain had for a short but terrible time, engulfed her completely.
Ashley got to her feet. She couldn't stay here all night, quietly crying and feeling ill, she had to move, she had to get home.
Slowly she began to walk in what roughly looked like the direction that left the city centre. She stayed on the road, weaving in and out of destroyed and over turned cars and avoiding the fires.
Suddenly she heard a muffled screaming. She looked and saw a tiny fist beating against the window of one of the upturned cars. Inside there was a weeping child inside. On all the windows of the cars were red spatters and gore. Fear struck her heart as she imagined being a child trapped in a car of dead relatives. Looking around she found a brick and carefully as possible she smashed in the car window bit by bit until there was a hole large enough to drag out the child.
She drew the girl into a hug without thinking.
Ashley did not like kids, especially ones crying and covered in boogers but at this moment she held the child close to her, ignoring the pain in her chest. The rest of the family were dead. How long had the girl been in there?
Slowly she set the girl down and they both began to walk, the girl gripping her hand tightly, sobbing and wailing the entire time.
Idly Ashley wondered what happened to the others; were the rest of the gang ok? The football team had carried on shopping in the mall, all wanting to get a burger and fries. Ashley had bullied Tyson/Tyrone into taking her home early. She had been humiliated by Jack and his stupid antics.
And what of Jack, was he ok?
Suddenly and inexplicably she found herself regretting a lot of things. She regretted being mean to Jack, she regretted not remembering Tyson/Tyrone's name, she regretted going into town that day just so she could show off her boyfriend and buy a new bracelet.
She looked down at her bracelet. She had wanted one for months. It was white gold and the newest edition to the Pandora range.
She felt her eyes well up with tears. It seemed so stupid now.
The child next to her was not wailing now, but she was groaning, like an injured animal.
"Are you in pain?" asked Ashley, feeling the words were stupid as soon as they left her mouth. The child just continued making the low groaning sounds. "What is your name?"
The little girl shook her head, her eyes closed.
Somehow, even then, Ashley realised that the little girl would never remember her name, this experience being so traumatic it not only blotted out her life before it (which would have been too painful to remember considering how it was destroyed) but also would control her actions in the future.
Ashley wanted to carry the little girl, but knew that she wouldn't be able to. Her back was in a lot of pain, shooting through her shoulders and peeking on her spine and lungs.
Just breathing was difficult.
She coughed, a few specks of blood coming out and covering her mouth.
Her sense of smell was slowly returning and she wished it wasn't. She could smell the dead everywhere, their charred and broken bodies now soaking up the filthy rain water. In her mouth she could taste her own blood.
Slowly, her vision was dimming.
"This isn't good," she thought, just before she saw a few lights up ahead. She frowned in determination, "I just need to get to the lights...maybe its help."
Luckily for her and the little girl, it was. Being on the edge of town, it hadn't taken too long for her to get just outside of the crowded areas to where all the ambulances were parked.
As soon as she saw the sirens flashing and the rescue workers heading out into the debris and helping people, she collapsed, making the small girl she had been walking with scream in horror once more.
xxXXxx
At the time Ashley had been saved, Jack was still making his way home. A number of ambulances and fire trucks and police cars had driven past him, but he hadn't hailed any of them for help. He just couldn't. It was as if his mind had turned off. He just kept putting one foot in front of the other, one foot in front of the other.
Part of him was dimly aware that a small piece of him would forever be in the city centre, in that day, in paralysed fear of the bombings.
He would never get over this. No ambulance or fire person or police officer could help him. He felt dead.
Robotically, though his body was screaming from his injuries, he made it all the way home. He had walked miles. All whilst injured. His body screamed.
It was early morning when he got to his own house. The suburb he lived in was untouched by the bombs. The trees were the same, the garden, the cars, the other houses, all in traditional oriental design, everything was the same. There was no bad smell, no trauma, no bodies, no fires. Just the calm, mundane world he knew and understood.
The normalcy was absurd to the point of insulting.
The sky was turning a light blue, signifying that the day was going to be rather dull.
He watched as a small brown sparrow flew up into the air and disappeared into the grey-blue heaven.
Jack cried a little. Not loudly, or dramatically, which would have been more within his character, but just a few tears fell from his eyes. His chest and shoulders shuddered with the weeping, his body still stunned and terrified.
He wished he could pretend that it wasn't real, that he had imagined it all, but he couldn't.
Slowly, he made his way to the front door and opened it, stepping inside.
He could hear his mom in the kitchen, already up and cooking.
He walked towards her and waited in the doorway.
She turned and saw him. "Hello," she said tonelessly, not questioning where he had been or what he looked like, "breakfast is nearly ready."
Jack slowly lowered himself to the ground, still crying. He paid no attention when his sisters who found him and dragged him to his room to put him to bed. He was limp and sore and broken, and honestly did not believe he would ever get better.