This is a prequel short story to another short story called By the Waters of Babylon. I had to write it as an english assignment last year, in 9th grade. I thought I would post this, because I'm thinking about writing a fan fiction, and I would like to know if my writing is good enough (by the way, it has probably improved a bit since I wrote this). Thanks!
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“… estimated death tolls far outweigh those from D.C. Now, we end with this- stay away from even the smallest populations of people. This is your best chance of survival. Hug your loved ones, make amends with those you’ve wronged and say your final prayers. Be prompt, while you still have time. That concludes our final broadcast….. God help you, and God help us all.”
The haunting finality on the news anchor’s face disappeared as the telecast shut off. The sound of static took its place and drilled into my core- it served as a stark reminder of the situation. Before, this war was only the stories I saw on TV, only the tears that ran down my face as I received heartbreaking phone calls. Probably just a big, unfortunate joke. However, that static- it served as a messenger to say that I am truly alone, and that my time was coming. I smiled wide.
Standing up, my feet dragged along the floor as I slumped toward the bay windows in my apartment. The scene before me had been standard fare for the last day. Honks and yelling and more honks. A flurry of backed-up cars extended as far as my eyes could see, forming together as a messy rainbow on the horizon. As I watched, a few people jumped out of their cars, deciding instead to go on foot. Some even drove up on the sidewalks, a desperate attempt to be a few feet closer to the city edge. The sight wouldn’t be half as disturbing if it wasn’t for the blare of the emergency sirens resonating throughout New York.
A harsh knock at the door snapped my attention away from the turmoil. A voice yelled out from the other side, who I instantly recognized to be my brother-in-law, Jack. “Hey,” Jack began. “Mike! Open up!”
I ignored the sound and strode somberly into the kitchen. Pulling an apple out of the fridge, I grabbed a knife and started cutting it up. Another knock landed on the door, this time harder.
'Go away… please, just go away'. Without realizing it, I had nervously started cutting the apple faster. 'Go away… I don’t want to deal with you'. Suddenly, a different texture fell victim to the knife, and I looked down. Blood was dripping on the counter from a large gash on my left index finger. I ignored it and kept cutting.
Jack’s voice came from behind the door once again. “Either you answer the door, or I will answer it for you.”
Giving in, I surveyed the kitchen. The place was a pig sty; dirty dishes and empty pill bottles lined the counters. I quickly slid the bottles in the trash, threw the freshly cut apple on a plate and carried it with me to the door. Forming a fake smile and taking a deep breath, I opened it.
“Hey buddy! I didn’t hear your knocking! I was just going to eat an apple. Want a slice?”
Jack stood in the doorway, tapping his feet and looking around nervously. He finally settled his eyes on me, staring in disbelief. “Are you alright, man?”
“Yeah, I’m great.”
Jack looked down at the floor, and then off to the left, as if he was pondering what I had just said. Then he crept closer until his mouth was positioned next to my ear. His breath was hot against my neck as he whispered. “A bomb could level New York at any time, and you’re sitting in your house, eating an apple. An apple. And you’re completely oblivious to the fact that you’re dripping blood on my shoes.”
I sat in silence, staring down at the floor.
Jack was far enough in the doorway to see into the kitchen. His eyes wandered the stacks of dirty plates and bowls, until a strange expression came across his face. I turned and matched his stare- a pill bottle was laying on its side tucked behind a plate, spilling its little blue contents across the counter.
Jack sighed and took a few steps back. “Look, man. What happened to my sister- your wife- is horrible. But now isn't the time to think about that… now is the time to get to safety. I found a boat owner who’s willing to take us across the Hudson. It’s a short walk to the shore- once there, look for The Challenger. That’s the name of the boat.”
Jack patted my shoulder, walked half way down the hall and turned back. “One more thing... if you’re not there within a half hour, they will have to leave without you. I’m sorry. This is your only shot at getting out of the city- cars on the road are at a complete standstill. So make sure you’re there.”
I called out after him. “What do you mean by ‘they’?”
Without giving an answer, Jack continued walking and turned to face the door to the stairs. When he lifted his arm to the doorknob, the bottom of his jacket lifted above his waist, and something small and metal could be seen tucked into it. He quickly pushed his jacket back down, pulled open the door and disappeared into it.
I stood alone in the empty hallway outside my door. The silence was so perfect, I could hear it manifested as a constant ringing in my ear. If it had always been there, just drowned out by other noises, I was unsure, but I was sure about one thing. It was a sound I had never heard in this place. Gone were the crying babies, the arguing couples and angry landlords. I was completely alone.
Sighing, I crept back into the apartment and collapsed on the couch. It felt wonderful. Even though I had done nothing but eat and sleep that day, my body felt as if it had been tasked to support the weight of the world, and just before it crushed me, it decided to roll over and leave me sunken into this couch cushion. It would be so easy to just slip into sleep and forget I had ever been appointed to such an impossible task. Giving in, I opened my eyes and looked around my home once more, for what I knew may be the last time.
As my eyes meandered across all that I had to my name, and all that I was leaving behind, they fell upon a picture on the wall. It was made up of a mosaic of painted tiles that came together to form a vase of flowers. The composition had been in my family for many years, passed down from my great-grandmother who had originally painted it. Over all that time, some of the tiles had broken loose and were now missing. Even still, now just a shell of its former self, I couldn't help but marvel at its beauty.
I pulled myself up into a sitting position, positioning my elbows on my knees and planting my hands firmly against my forehead. Maybe Jack was right. Even though I've lost almost everyone I care about, there’s nothing preventing me from living a happy and fruitful life. My friends and family wouldn't have wanted me to give up just because they’re gone. There’s a brick wall in front of me, and the door through it has been locked. There is no easy way beyond it. It won’t be easy, and inevitably, every day I will suffer over the memories of those I've lost. Although all I have to do is climb over that brick wall, and the rest of my life is open before me.
Standing up quickly, I grabbed my suitcase and headed for the door. I had packed it before I received the news that most of my family had been killed, before I had lost my will to live. It held all the essentials; food, water and a change of clothes. I checked the clock before I walked through the door into the hall. There was plenty of time; the boat wouldn't push off for another twenty minutes. Pulling the door closed behind me, I turned around and looked back at it. It was very likely that I would never see this place again. Part of me prayed that I wouldn't have to, because the series of events that could lead me back here would be unthinkable.
I raced down the hall, down the stairs and into the building’s lobby in record time. A bright smile shone on my face. Not an I-hope-to-soon-be-dead smile, but a happy-I’m-going-to-survive smile. For one second in a million, I was actually happy. I was about to open the door into the chaos outside when a loud, metallic cracking sound stopped me in my tracks. I stood frozen in horror as the smile melted off my face. The sound was very close, and from my experience hunting with close friends, unmistakable. It was a gunshot.
For a second, I hesitated. For a single second, that seemed to stretch out and feel like a hundred, I stood there legs frozen and head reeling. My mind raced through the possibilities. I could run back up to my apartment until I thought it was safe, but then, I thought, I may never bring myself to come down again. I could hit the floor, protecting myself the best I could until help- but that thought came to a screeching halt as I made a realization. Help wouldn't arrive. Help was long gone, out of the city where it was safe. Someone could be on the ground, bleeding to death, and there was nobody there for him, except random passersby's that are probably more intent on saving themselves than someone else. And even if someone decided to help, they would risk getting shot themselves. And then it dawned on me- it was up to me. Better me to risk my life for another when I have nothing to live for.
I took a deep breath and pushed open the door. Ignoring all the commotion; the screaming, the running people and honking cars, I cautiously began walking toward where the gun went off. The only possibility was an alleyway next to the building, because there was a long row of brick houses beyond it, and I was sure the sound came from outdoors. Ten, nine, eight… I began counting the steps until what was waiting in the alley would be in view. Three, two, one… taking a deep breath, I prepared myself for what it could be. Zero.
Turning the corner, my eyes fell on the figure before me. I slowly brought my sight up the length of it, first the feet, up to the waist and chest, and finally to the head. As I realized who it was, I screamed out and my legs buckled, sending me to the cold, hard pavement. It was Jack. Bringing my head up, I squinted to see his body through tear-stricken eyes. He held a gun in his hand, and blood pooled from a wound to his head.
I pounded the cement beneath me until it was caked with blood. A painful throbbing in my head ensued, brought on by the unrestrained sobbing and moaning. Through it all, my head was only clear enough to produce a single, repeating thought: I have now lost everything. Now, I literally had nothing to live for.
Calmly, with a blank expression on my face, I walked forward. Completely blocking out the world around me, the only thing I could see was my destination, and once again, the only thing I could hear was that incessant ringing of perfect silence. Walking until I was right next to Jacks body, I bent over and picked up the gun. It felt cool against my raw hands as I tranquilly turned around, walked back into the apartment building, up the stairs, down the hall, and to my door. I then pushed it open, walked in and sat on the couch.
I gazed at the mosaic in front of me. Had I never seen it before, I would have never known it was supposed to be a vase of flowers- there was a large chunk missing from it, and what was left behind was an ugly mess. Turning around, I spied a perfect bullet-sized hole in the wall behind me. I smiled at the irony of it. It was fitting that my life would conclude this way.
I knew that I couldn't bring myself to commit suicide; so instead, I brought the gun to my knee and fired. My body was so numb that I didn't feel anything. I laughed at the cleverness of my actions, determining that I would never be able to make it to the boat now; I had successfully fended off my survival instinct and destroyed my only ticket to leave the city and survive. Slouching back against the couch, I waited to die.
What felt like an eternity passed before I vaguely heard planes above the city, followed by a loud rumble. I was in a trance from all the blood loss, so I wasn't sure if what I heard was real or simply a hallucination. Then everything went black.
~~~~~~~~
“… estimated death tolls far outweigh those from D.C. Now, we end with this- stay away from even the smallest populations of people. This is your best chance of survival. Hug your loved ones, make amends with those you’ve wronged and say your final prayers. Be prompt, while you still have time. That concludes our final broadcast….. God help you, and God help us all.”
The haunting finality on the news anchor’s face disappeared as the telecast shut off. The sound of static took its place and drilled into my core- it served as a stark reminder of the situation. Before, this war was only the stories I saw on TV, only the tears that ran down my face as I received heartbreaking phone calls. Probably just a big, unfortunate joke. However, that static- it served as a messenger to say that I am truly alone, and that my time was coming. I smiled wide.
Standing up, my feet dragged along the floor as I slumped toward the bay windows in my apartment. The scene before me had been standard fare for the last day. Honks and yelling and more honks. A flurry of backed-up cars extended as far as my eyes could see, forming together as a messy rainbow on the horizon. As I watched, a few people jumped out of their cars, deciding instead to go on foot. Some even drove up on the sidewalks, a desperate attempt to be a few feet closer to the city edge. The sight wouldn’t be half as disturbing if it wasn’t for the blare of the emergency sirens resonating throughout New York.
A harsh knock at the door snapped my attention away from the turmoil. A voice yelled out from the other side, who I instantly recognized to be my brother-in-law, Jack. “Hey,” Jack began. “Mike! Open up!”
I ignored the sound and strode somberly into the kitchen. Pulling an apple out of the fridge, I grabbed a knife and started cutting it up. Another knock landed on the door, this time harder.
'Go away… please, just go away'. Without realizing it, I had nervously started cutting the apple faster. 'Go away… I don’t want to deal with you'. Suddenly, a different texture fell victim to the knife, and I looked down. Blood was dripping on the counter from a large gash on my left index finger. I ignored it and kept cutting.
Jack’s voice came from behind the door once again. “Either you answer the door, or I will answer it for you.”
Giving in, I surveyed the kitchen. The place was a pig sty; dirty dishes and empty pill bottles lined the counters. I quickly slid the bottles in the trash, threw the freshly cut apple on a plate and carried it with me to the door. Forming a fake smile and taking a deep breath, I opened it.
“Hey buddy! I didn’t hear your knocking! I was just going to eat an apple. Want a slice?”
Jack stood in the doorway, tapping his feet and looking around nervously. He finally settled his eyes on me, staring in disbelief. “Are you alright, man?”
“Yeah, I’m great.”
Jack looked down at the floor, and then off to the left, as if he was pondering what I had just said. Then he crept closer until his mouth was positioned next to my ear. His breath was hot against my neck as he whispered. “A bomb could level New York at any time, and you’re sitting in your house, eating an apple. An apple. And you’re completely oblivious to the fact that you’re dripping blood on my shoes.”
I sat in silence, staring down at the floor.
Jack was far enough in the doorway to see into the kitchen. His eyes wandered the stacks of dirty plates and bowls, until a strange expression came across his face. I turned and matched his stare- a pill bottle was laying on its side tucked behind a plate, spilling its little blue contents across the counter.
Jack sighed and took a few steps back. “Look, man. What happened to my sister- your wife- is horrible. But now isn't the time to think about that… now is the time to get to safety. I found a boat owner who’s willing to take us across the Hudson. It’s a short walk to the shore- once there, look for The Challenger. That’s the name of the boat.”
Jack patted my shoulder, walked half way down the hall and turned back. “One more thing... if you’re not there within a half hour, they will have to leave without you. I’m sorry. This is your only shot at getting out of the city- cars on the road are at a complete standstill. So make sure you’re there.”
I called out after him. “What do you mean by ‘they’?”
Without giving an answer, Jack continued walking and turned to face the door to the stairs. When he lifted his arm to the doorknob, the bottom of his jacket lifted above his waist, and something small and metal could be seen tucked into it. He quickly pushed his jacket back down, pulled open the door and disappeared into it.
I stood alone in the empty hallway outside my door. The silence was so perfect, I could hear it manifested as a constant ringing in my ear. If it had always been there, just drowned out by other noises, I was unsure, but I was sure about one thing. It was a sound I had never heard in this place. Gone were the crying babies, the arguing couples and angry landlords. I was completely alone.
Sighing, I crept back into the apartment and collapsed on the couch. It felt wonderful. Even though I had done nothing but eat and sleep that day, my body felt as if it had been tasked to support the weight of the world, and just before it crushed me, it decided to roll over and leave me sunken into this couch cushion. It would be so easy to just slip into sleep and forget I had ever been appointed to such an impossible task. Giving in, I opened my eyes and looked around my home once more, for what I knew may be the last time.
As my eyes meandered across all that I had to my name, and all that I was leaving behind, they fell upon a picture on the wall. It was made up of a mosaic of painted tiles that came together to form a vase of flowers. The composition had been in my family for many years, passed down from my great-grandmother who had originally painted it. Over all that time, some of the tiles had broken loose and were now missing. Even still, now just a shell of its former self, I couldn't help but marvel at its beauty.
I pulled myself up into a sitting position, positioning my elbows on my knees and planting my hands firmly against my forehead. Maybe Jack was right. Even though I've lost almost everyone I care about, there’s nothing preventing me from living a happy and fruitful life. My friends and family wouldn't have wanted me to give up just because they’re gone. There’s a brick wall in front of me, and the door through it has been locked. There is no easy way beyond it. It won’t be easy, and inevitably, every day I will suffer over the memories of those I've lost. Although all I have to do is climb over that brick wall, and the rest of my life is open before me.
Standing up quickly, I grabbed my suitcase and headed for the door. I had packed it before I received the news that most of my family had been killed, before I had lost my will to live. It held all the essentials; food, water and a change of clothes. I checked the clock before I walked through the door into the hall. There was plenty of time; the boat wouldn't push off for another twenty minutes. Pulling the door closed behind me, I turned around and looked back at it. It was very likely that I would never see this place again. Part of me prayed that I wouldn't have to, because the series of events that could lead me back here would be unthinkable.
I raced down the hall, down the stairs and into the building’s lobby in record time. A bright smile shone on my face. Not an I-hope-to-soon-be-dead smile, but a happy-I’m-going-to-survive smile. For one second in a million, I was actually happy. I was about to open the door into the chaos outside when a loud, metallic cracking sound stopped me in my tracks. I stood frozen in horror as the smile melted off my face. The sound was very close, and from my experience hunting with close friends, unmistakable. It was a gunshot.
For a second, I hesitated. For a single second, that seemed to stretch out and feel like a hundred, I stood there legs frozen and head reeling. My mind raced through the possibilities. I could run back up to my apartment until I thought it was safe, but then, I thought, I may never bring myself to come down again. I could hit the floor, protecting myself the best I could until help- but that thought came to a screeching halt as I made a realization. Help wouldn't arrive. Help was long gone, out of the city where it was safe. Someone could be on the ground, bleeding to death, and there was nobody there for him, except random passersby's that are probably more intent on saving themselves than someone else. And even if someone decided to help, they would risk getting shot themselves. And then it dawned on me- it was up to me. Better me to risk my life for another when I have nothing to live for.
I took a deep breath and pushed open the door. Ignoring all the commotion; the screaming, the running people and honking cars, I cautiously began walking toward where the gun went off. The only possibility was an alleyway next to the building, because there was a long row of brick houses beyond it, and I was sure the sound came from outdoors. Ten, nine, eight… I began counting the steps until what was waiting in the alley would be in view. Three, two, one… taking a deep breath, I prepared myself for what it could be. Zero.
Turning the corner, my eyes fell on the figure before me. I slowly brought my sight up the length of it, first the feet, up to the waist and chest, and finally to the head. As I realized who it was, I screamed out and my legs buckled, sending me to the cold, hard pavement. It was Jack. Bringing my head up, I squinted to see his body through tear-stricken eyes. He held a gun in his hand, and blood pooled from a wound to his head.
I pounded the cement beneath me until it was caked with blood. A painful throbbing in my head ensued, brought on by the unrestrained sobbing and moaning. Through it all, my head was only clear enough to produce a single, repeating thought: I have now lost everything. Now, I literally had nothing to live for.
Calmly, with a blank expression on my face, I walked forward. Completely blocking out the world around me, the only thing I could see was my destination, and once again, the only thing I could hear was that incessant ringing of perfect silence. Walking until I was right next to Jacks body, I bent over and picked up the gun. It felt cool against my raw hands as I tranquilly turned around, walked back into the apartment building, up the stairs, down the hall, and to my door. I then pushed it open, walked in and sat on the couch.
I gazed at the mosaic in front of me. Had I never seen it before, I would have never known it was supposed to be a vase of flowers- there was a large chunk missing from it, and what was left behind was an ugly mess. Turning around, I spied a perfect bullet-sized hole in the wall behind me. I smiled at the irony of it. It was fitting that my life would conclude this way.
I knew that I couldn't bring myself to commit suicide; so instead, I brought the gun to my knee and fired. My body was so numb that I didn't feel anything. I laughed at the cleverness of my actions, determining that I would never be able to make it to the boat now; I had successfully fended off my survival instinct and destroyed my only ticket to leave the city and survive. Slouching back against the couch, I waited to die.
What felt like an eternity passed before I vaguely heard planes above the city, followed by a loud rumble. I was in a trance from all the blood loss, so I wasn't sure if what I heard was real or simply a hallucination. Then everything went black.
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