Chương 6: Cataclysm, Pt 6
The both of you eventually make it to your destination, your goal. And thanks to the blade floating behind the both of you, you arrive practically unmolested. The very existence of it allows the both of you to go where you please. Every strange otherworldly creature you come across veers out of your way at the sight of it.
And over the course of the one-hour trek, the clear noon sky above you shifted slowly from a light blue to a light red. The sun also deepened into a reddish-orange at the same time. A fact you only truly notice now that you've arrived here.
But you quickly shake it aside - the sky's the very last of your worries.
In front of you is your Dad's ten-story walk-up apartment. It's in a shambles, with numerous long cracks spread across its concrete facade. Luckily, there aren't any crystal shards protruding through it.
"Dad!" you shout up to the apartment building. "We're on our way up!"
Not that he can hear you, but it doesn't stop you from hoping anyway.
The two of you run into the building, and up the stairs. Stairs which you have always hated - Dad lives up on the seventh floor, and those are way too many steps to take. Not that you're caring in the slightest right now.
Right now, you're flying up those same steps as fast as you can, heart beating heavily in your chest.
It's moments later that you burst through the door to your Dad's apartment. The inside is in shambles, just like the outside. Everything has fallen to the floor, and every window has shattered, no doubt a result of all those earthquakes at the start of it all.
A massive crack splits across the wall ahead of you, somewhat opening up the room to the outside world.
"Dad!" you shout out. "You in here?! You alright?"
But no answers come, save for a light pained groaning that you just barely hear.
You run towards the bathroom, where the groaning is coming from, and immediately find your father splayed out on the floor. Unconscious.
He's wearing his usual daily outfit, but with his faded sand camo army jacket as well. And he's even wearing a holster with his pistol in it.
A section of his all-white head of hair is matted down with dark red blood. Alarm shoots through you as your eyes go wide as saucers.
"Ohshit oshit!" you shout out. "Dad! What happened?"
Kaja puts a hand on your shoulder to help ease you and comfort you. When you turn to look at her, she gestures towards a towel rack with a bit of blood smeared on the metal rod.
"He must've accidentally hit it during all the shaking," she says. "Help me get him out to the living room - we'll take a look at him there."
You nod in approval, then pick up your father by his shoulders. At the same time, Kaja picks him up by his ankles. Then you both carry him out to the living room, where you set him down on the soft carpet.
While you find a pillow to place under your Dad's head to make him more comfortable, Kaja goes back into the bathroom to rummage for a first aid kit. She's back even as you slip one under his head.
You both take a better look at your Dad's wound, and part his wet, matted hair aside.
A shiver runs through you as you look at the two-inch gash on your Dad's head. Although it's a relatively clean laceration, you can't tell if anything else is wrong beneath. If the bone is fractured, for example. You just don't know anything about medical stuff to be of any real use.
You can definitely see that blood is seeping out regularly, and if you can't stop it…
Kaja reaches down with a hand towel and soaks up what she can that's coming out of his wound. She lifts it for a moment, just enough to spray both saline and antibiotic solutions, then goes back in to try to stop the bleeding.
She sops up some more blood, then applies tissue adhesive while holding the laceration closed as much as possible. Afterwards, she places down some gauze, then bandages it down as tight as she can. She then wraps his head with some more gauze to keep the bandage in place for as long as possible.
"It's not great," Kaja says as she finishes up. "But it's better than nothing."
"If he's been like this for an hour, well…" you say, the worry clear in your voice. "What if… if…"
"He's still alive. That's all you need to think about."
"Right now, sure. But what about five minutes from now? An hour from now?"
Kaja purses her lips as though frustrated, a sign that she doesn't exactly know the answer. It's a face you don't get to see very often.
"Maybe we get him to a hospital," she says.
"How?" you protest. "All the cars are dead. The nearest hospital is what… fifteen blocks away?"
Kaja purses her lips again, though this time in thought.
"Urgent care?" she replies. "Any clinic, really. Vet clinic if we have to. We just need a doctor who knows how to stitch him up the right way."
Your Dad stirs even as the two of you talk, which cause the two of you to leap back into action.
"Dad?!" you say to him. "Wake up, Dad. It's me. And Kaja. We've got you."
He groans, loudly, then reaches up to the side of his head where his wound is.
"Urgh, that really hurts," he says, throat dry.
He tries to push himself up into a seated position, but you try to hold him back.
"Wait, careful," you say.
But he really doesn't heed what you say, and keeps going anyway.
"I'm fine," he grumbles.
Just as he gets back to a seated position, Kaja hands him a cup of water. He gladly takes it, drinks it empty, then sets the glass aside.
"I think I mighta had a stroke," he eventually confesses. "Gotta huge headache there for a minute, blacked out. And I'm guessin' by this wrap on my head that I musta hit something, huh?"
"A lot more than a stroke hit you," you say. "A whole lot more."
"Wassat supposed to mean?"
You wave a hand towards the split in the wall, or more specifically to the scene outside. There, one of the building across the street has been utterly torn down to rubble. In its place is a ridiculously large and thick purple crystal.
The bodies of numerous people lie scattered among the building's detritus. Some screams can still be heard out in the distance.
On top of it all is the light red sky, which only seems to deepen as time passes.
Your Dad picks himself up off the floor as he stares at the sight. It's almost as though he's completely entranced at the devastation he is seeing. He finds it a bit too much, and ends up going down on one knee as a result.
"We need to get you to a clinic as soon as we can," Kaja says after a moment. "The wound on your head - it's not quite good. I think you need stitches."
"Alright, yeah," your Dad replies, half-listening. "We'll take the car."
"Won't work," you say. "Every car, or at least every car on the way here, won't do anything. Wont' start, won't move. They're stuck out there."
"No phone signals either," Kaja adds. "Our phones shut off seconds after we turned them on."
"We've got electric, right?" Dad asks, suddenly back in reality. "I mean, some of the lights are still on in here."
He turns around to look at the both of you, or at least, away from whatever's outside. He glances down at his watch, which has also gone still.
"A little bit," Kaja replies. "I think certain kinds of batteries got drained out for some reason, others didn't. I'm not any kind of expert on it though, just guessing."
"I'm sure some power stations are still up and running," you add. "Those oughta still be good, even if, um, their operators and engineers aren't alive any more. Some stuff oughta still be up and running to be honest. At least for a little while."
Silence fills the living room for a few moments as your oddly positive but somber note resonates. Eventually, you break the silence you made in the first place.
"Let's head out," you say. "We need to get going, before your apartment decides to open up all the way and join the first floor."
"We oughta grab your meds too, just in case," Kaja adds.
"They're in the med cabinet in the bathroom," your Dad says. "Lemme gather 'em up."
"No," you say. "I'll get 'em. You two go on ahead. I'll catch up."
Kaja and your Dad head out while you go back into the bathroom. There, you go into your Dad's medicine cabinet which is chock-full of various pills. Some of it script, some OTC. All way too much, at least in your opinion. There are little pill bottles on every shelf: antibiotics, antidepressants, anti-inflammatory, painkillers, vitamins, supplements, you name it.
You grimace at the sight of it all.
Your Dad grew up with way different values, and loves to present himself as that tough guy who doesn't need much coddling or care. And it's certainly true in many ways. The many decades he spent in the Army certainly helped cement that about him.
But no matter how much he might project being invincible, the reality is certainly far different. The proof is laid out plain right in front of your eyes.
Instead of sifting through his meds, you simply tighten their lids and dump them all into your messenger bag. You'll have plenty of time to sort it all out when you get somewhere relatively safe.
You then head into your Dad's bedroom, open up one of his duffels, and shove a bunch of his clothes inside. You grab a couple of his books and his tablet as well. If the apartment does fall apart, at least he'll have some of his stuff with him.
A few minutes later, you meet back up with the two of them outside.
Kaja smiles at you as you get closer, then telekinetically lifts the translucent purple blade off the pavement, right where she left it. After all, there's no way it would ever fit inside any building. Not unless she uses it to open it up first, anyway.
"What's with the duffel?" your Dad asks.
"I brought some of your stuff," you tell your Dad. "You know, in case your place falls apart."
"You get my rifle outta the closet, too?"
"I don't think it's going to be much use out here."
"You don't know that."
"We can always come back if we need to," Kaja interjects diplomatically. "Right now, we gotta get your head stitched up."
"There oughta be an urgent care one or two blocks over," your Dad says. "Follow me."
The three of you follow your father as he leads you down the street and around the corner. Along the way, you can't help but notice just how much he's soaking up the world that's around him.
Everything's in utter chaos - the buildings and streets are in shambles, crystal spikes protrude everywhere, cars and vehicles sit on the roads unattended. Worst of all, there are dead bodies everywhere.
Some are in cars, some in shops, some splayed out on the street. One moment, they're going about their day. And in the next, oblivion.
"What in hell happened here?" your Dad mutters. "It's like a damn war zone."
The two of you take turns telling what you know - the blackout, the pain, the earthquakes, the insects, the stampede, the shadow creature. And the powers, too.
"Explains that thing," he says, gesturing to the massive blade floating behind Kaja. He then turns towards you, a curious look in his eye.
"What can you do?"
"I see stuff," you say sheepishly.
Using your Third Eye seems hardly as impressive as maneuvering a huge weapon around with your mind. And, truth be told, seeing stuff is what you do. Still, better than having nothing at all, right?
"Yeah, I see stuff too, all the time," he teases. "No, really. What can you do? From what you both just told me, you fought off some crazy shadow thing. So enlighten your old man for a minute."
"Alright, fine. I see more stuff than usual. And yeah, I pushed off whatever that creature was. Maybe I made it depressed, or not give a fuck. But I don't know exactly what I did or how I did it. All I know is that the more I do it, the more my head hurts. Real bad."
"Really?" Kaja says, somewhat shocked. "It hurts you to…"
She waves her hands at your head, unable to articulate what it is that's happening to the both of you.
"Hurts to do your thing?"
"Wait. That doesn't happen to you?" you ask her, with equal amounts of surprise.
She shakes her head resolutely.
A kind of malaise sinks into you on realizing the huge difference between the two of you, again. It doesn't seem to matter what it is you do - you're disadvantaged in every way possible. It doesn't matter how high you seem to get, your life always comes with massive downsides.
It's almost as though you've been born to suffer.
Chương 7: Cataclysm, Pt 7
It doesn't take long until the three of you make it to the urgent care clinic. And as your father had mentioned, it's only a couple of blocks away from his apartment. Thankfully so.
By the time you get there, your Dad has become paler, and stumbles around a bit as he walks. It's clear that he's lost too much blood.
You go to support him, but he raises his palm at you, as though to tell you, "I can handle it."
The clinic itself is part of a strip mall, half of which has been broken apart by a cluster of crystals protruding through it. Some of the shops have been reduced to nothing more than a pile of rubble, unsold goods, and dead shoppers.
Thankfully, the clinic appears to mostly still be in one piece, though its front door frames have been wrenched wide open and most of its glass front has been smashed to pieces. The lights are certainly on, but you don't see any activity happening inside. Of course, all you can see right now is the front waiting room.
Who knows what's happening in the back rooms… Your heart thumps lightly at the thought.
"Let's get in there," says Kaja. "We oughta check if there's a doctor who can help us. And if not, we can at least grab some medical supplies."
"Wait, what if there's someone or something in there already?" you say. "Like one of those insect things?"
Your Dad draws his Beretta from his holster and flips the safety off, but keeps it at the low ready.
"Good thing I got this," he says.
"It's not gonna help," you retort. "Bullet's too small to punch through its armor."
"How'd you know? Did'ja try it already?"
"It might, but let's not test it," says Kaja. "Besides, just having this thing around keeps those things away from us. I think it's emitting some kind of repellant? Something like that anyway. So probably just having it here will keep 'em away."
She maneuvers the massive blade ahead of her, then embeds it into the parking area just outside the clinic. It makes an incredibly satisfying sound as it pierces into the asphalt. Not only that, but you can practically hear its infinite edge slicing apart the gravel and substrate beneath.
It soothes you.
"Hey, try picking up some broken glass," you suggest. "Could use those as mini-blades, maybe?"
"Alright, yeah. Good idea."
Kaja reaches out with a hand, then telekinetically picks up a few shards of glass. You can see her face strain and her fingers twitch as she attempts to control multiple pieces. Clearly, maneuvering multiple things at once is harder than a single one, size be damned.
But after a few moments of practice, she's able to move them around with some proficiency. She's able to swish them around in the air quickly and relatively accurately.
"I could spend all day practicing this," she says. "But we've gotta get that wound patched up asap. Let's hope we don't run into anything at all, though. You two stay behind me, alright?"
Kaja's boots make crunching noises as she enters the clinic, stepping on the broken glass shards along the way. You enter a few steps behind her, and your Dad a few steps behind you.
You can feel the tenseness in the air, shared between the three of you. Although to be fair, you're the most tense of everyone. You can barely feel Kaja's anxiety as she slowly and carefully plods forward, while your Dad seems to place all his faith in his sidearm.
Then again, what's new, right? Your default state is to be a ball of anxiety, and not even the end of the world can change that about you. Or, perhaps, it has made you even worse.
You're betting on worse.
The interior of the clinic's front room is pretty basic and standard, as far as clinic front rooms go. It's a relatively spacious area with a few rows of chairs in the waiting area. Most of them have toppled over, or broken, or even stolen.
Magazines, paper cups, and all manner of detritus is scattered on the floor.
At the far end of the room is a secure counter built into the wall, which is usually where a nurse receptionist would welcome incoming patients. Of course, it's empty at the moment.
Behind the counter is a massive shelving unit that contains what looks like patient records. It's filled to the brim, and practically spilling over.
What strikes you as odd is there's no dead people in here, which is a distinct contrast from the rest of the city. Everywhere you've been has had corpses. At least until now. You do see a few streaks of mostly-dried blood that lead outside.
Whether that means someone was wounded in here and left of their own volition, or dragged out, you have no clue. But at least they don't lead inward.
Kaja heads to one of the doors flanking the nurse receptionist's counter - a sign on its face reads "No Entry" - and tries the handle with a jiggle.
"Locked," she whispers.
She then goes to the other door and attempts the same thing. But it's clear that it too is locked.
"I can break 'em, or try to pick 'em," your Dad offers, but Kaja shakes her head in response.
"I'll just hop the counter," she replies. "Rather not make a lotta noise in here. Don't wanna attract attention to us. Besides, we don't want you to strain yourself even more."
Kaja leans over the counter and looks around for a moment, just in case. Then she sits on it, spins in place, then hops off on the other side. She beckons for the both of you to follow before she heads towards the end of the large shelving unit and turns towards the rear section of the front office.
Just as you fumble over the counter, you hear the words, "Stop right there!"
You're immediately consumed by the need to run over to Kaja, but she urges you to stop with a mere gesture. She's looking further into the front office, which you can't see thanks to the large shelving unit.
Even though you can't see, you still get a sense for what's back there. Besides the person telling Kaja to stop, you can hear faint breathing behind him. At least two more people. Maybe three or four. You can't tell exactly - maybe there's even more stuff between them and this guy up front.
And judging from how the voice of the guy up front is echoing around, he's likely behind something - a desk maybe. Or more shelves.
More than that, you can smell a faint trace of blood - you can almost taste its copperyness on your tongue. Then again, you're in a clinic - they should smell like this.
"Sorry to barge in," Kaja says. "We're not here to hurt anyone. We just have someone who is hurt that needs help, alright? So please put the gun down."
"Gun ain't coming down," demands the voice. "But tell me: hurt how?"
"Knocked his head, split it a bit, bleeding a lot."
"Is it just you two?"
"Three."
"Alright. Show yourselves! Quick! Hands where I can see."
Kaja gestures for you to join her, so you step out from behind the shelving unit. Your Dad joins you moments later, after a few grunts and groans from climbing the counter.
And the back room is as you visualized earlier, to some degree. Most of the furniture and equipment in the room has been moved to one side of the room and piled together to make a kind of barrier. Peeking through one of a few open sections of the barrier is what appears to be an orderly, still wearing his scrubs.
In his hands looks to be a mean-looking shotgun. Of course, the business end of it is pointed at the three of you.
"Can you help us?" you say. "'Coz if not, then we'll just be going."
The orderly grimaces as he looks your Dad up and down, particularly at the bandage around his head.
"Who did the wrap?" he asks. "It's kinda sloppy. Blood's already blotting the gauze."
"I did," Kaja replies. "I barely know first aid, kinda why we're here in the first place. So can you help? If you can't then we need to go find a place where we can get him fixed up."
The orderly exhales loudly, then pulls his shotgun aside, which immediately alleviates much of your anxiety. You can practically feel it diffusing into the air around you.
"Alright, fine, come around here," he says with a gesture.
The three of you walk towards him, or rather around the makeshift barrier to where he's standing. At the same time, he continues speaking to you.
"We don't got a doctor anymore, but we do got a couple nurse practitioners who can help," he continues. "At least, for something like lacerations like what your pops got. Yeah, 'course we'll help. It's what we do. But if you do anything sketch at all - I'm gonna come at you with a vengeance. And I ain't the only one, alright?"
It seems to you that he has said that phrase a few times now. It's not that it seems practiced, more like he's in the process of practicing it.
"Thank you," Kaja replies.
You smile inwardly as you realize that she always knows what to say. She always has. If that was you, you would have been extra defensive, maybe even frantically so.
Good thing you didn't say anything, or you might have ruined the tentative truce.
He ushers you three through the secure door next to him, which he opens with a few keypresses on the codelock pad.
Behind there is an open clinic floor where a number of exam beds line three of the four walls. They're separated by privacy curtains, though all are drawn back so everything is visible. Along the fourth wall is a series of cabinets and counters and drawers, each of which holds all sorts of medical supplies, from gauze to meds to tools.
A door in the middle of that wall leads out to the rest of the clinic.
But most importantly, there are a number of people here, about five of whom are regular people just like you. Well, maybe not you - you've never thought of yourself as regular. More like irregular. All of them have bumps and scratches in varying degrees, some to the point of bleeding. One has a very clearly broken arm.
He's being looked over by an orderly, who's doing her best to keep him as calm as possible. One of the nurses joins her moments later and administers what appears to be local painkillers.
The other nurse comes up to your Dad soon after and leads him towards one of the beds.
"That's not looking so great," she says. "Let's get you over here so we can get a better look. Sam. Sam! Can you give Ms. Janelle over there 250 milligrams of ibuprofen and 50 milligrams of tramadol? Thanks."
While she gives one of her orderlies instructions, she carefully lays your father down on the bed and unwraps his bandages. You watch with interest as she opens it up and examines the wound. She then gets to work cleaning and redressing it as quickly as she can.
"Hey, you two," says an orderly. "We gotta keep this space clear so we can work. So come follow me."
You and Kaja quickly follow after one of the other orderlies, who leads you out to what seems to be a hallway. Opposite the clinic floor is an open double door that leads straight into the staff's break room. There, one other orderly is seated at a table with his head back and eyes closed, clearly taking a nap. Or at the very least, doing his best to try to.
Also seated at the table are a couple of other people - civilians just like you. They seem to be having an incredibly quiet conversation between the two of them. You can just barely hear them talk. A third is up by the coffee machine, pouring himself another cup.
"Feel free to sit tight in here for a while," says your orderly escort. "We got some food and drink, but try not to empty us out, alright?"
You and Kaja greet everyone in the room in a general sense as the orderly who escorted you there heads back to work on the clinic floor. Everyone else acknowledges the both of you through grunts and nods.
And something strikes you as incredibly odd about the pair seated at the table. At first you believe they're having a hushed conversation. But it dawns on you that their mouths aren't moving at all. No sounds are actually coming from them.
No, what you're hearing is the conversation they're having through their minds.
Tình trạng nguồn điện hàng tuần
200+ Xếp hạng
Quyền lực 
0 Đá
Quyền lực 
bình luận đoạn văn