6:00 Hours: A Dystopian Novel (8 page)

              “I love you guys,” Danny said, bending his head close to his sons’ ears.

              He was close enough to them that his whisper somehow broke through the overwhelming din around them, and they looked up at him. For a moment, the fear faded from their eyes and was replaced with adoration. Tears filled Danny’s eyes and he let them stream down his face. His precious children. His boys.

              “I love you, Miranda,” Danny said to his wife, turning his attention to her.

              She couldn’t hear him, but she saw the shape of the words.

              “I love you, too,” she replied, her eyes bright with tears.

              Danny cupped her face in his hands and pressed his forehead against hers. Their sons were between them, clinging to their waists, trying to block out the approaching monster. Danny closed his eyes, feeling Miranda’s shuddering breath on his face and her smooth hair between his fingers.

             
My wife. My woman,
Danny thought.

5.

Danny thought his heart might burst; it was so full of love. He remembered what it felt like when Miranda told him she was pregnant. It had been a Sunday morning. Danny was cooking bacon, watching the strips sizzle and pop. Miranda cut up fruit - strawberries, bananas, and pineapple - and set the table. When Danny brought over the bacon, he saw the test placed beside his plate. He swung Miranda around as she laughed, kissing her over and over again. Her pregnancy had been very smooth; she was one of those women who loved being pregnant. Her skin glowed, she felt at peace, and her aura was contagious. Danny had braced himself for anxiety and fear, but instead he found himself sharing in Miranda’s calm and optimism. He barely took any pills during those nine months. And then the boys were born. Hunter came first, squawking and flailing. He had a shock of white-blonde hair, like a baby duck, and eyes so dark blue they looked black. Jesse arrived quietly, hesitantly, and while he shared his brother’s feather-down hair, his eyes were pale grey. He looked up at his father with such a deep focus that Danny was sure the baby was gazing into his soul. From that moment, Jesse loved his father above all things.

              The wind reached the last decibel Danny’s ears remembered before he had been knocked unconscious earlier that day. People began to scream and scramble, unsure of where to go, but unable to just sit and wait for disaster. The ground began to shake.

              “Daddy!” Jesse cried, throwing his arms around Danny’s neck.

              Danny wrapped both arms around his son and held tight.

              “Whatever happens,” he said hoarsely, “Don’t let go of me.”

              Hunter grabbed unto Miranda. Danny put his hand on top of Hunter’s head to assure him he was still there.

              “Hold on to your mom,” he shouted.

The roof shuddered. With a horrible crunching sound, part of it was ripped off and up. People ducked and ran, lights flashing like a rave gone bad. Swarms of people began to fight their way through the doors to the lobby, but it was too crowded. There was no way they would make it. The tornado was making its way south, tearing up whatever was in its path like tissue paper. Danny knew they had to go towards where the funnel had come from; to the north. Instead of trying to outrun the tornado, they had to get behind it. No one had headed for the door he had taken to make his phone calls. The door rattled, slamming against its hinges. The tables had been thrown against it, but Danny managed to move them quickly. It was their only shot.

“Go! Go!” Danny shouted.

              They ran. With Jesse’s arms around Danny’s neck, Danny threw the table aside. Miranda pushed open the door and they both ran out. Out into the storm.

              It looked like a black hole had opened up above the church. Clutching their children, Miranda and Danny backed away from the doors, their jaws slack in awe at the sucking spiral so close to them. At the top, where it reached the sky, the funnel was wide and green like the mouth of a monstrous Mother Nature, full of swirling clouds and veins of lightning. It spiraled down, thinning out, and tossing debris from every direction. Even with the wind and rain nearly blinding him, to Danny’s horror, he could see bodies in the funnel flailing like rag dolls.

              They took all of this in for only a few seconds. They knew they were still much too close to be safe. They just started running.

             
Have to find something concrete. Something nailed down,
Danny thought frantically.

              What was around this area? There had to be shelters somewhere. Even in his panic, Danny managed to remember what the young woman in the apron had said.

             
They’re from the assisted living place down the road. They’ve got a great setup for tornadoes.

             
It didn’t matter which direction down the road. There was only one direction that was not directly in the path of the tornado. Danny and Miranda stumbled down the sidewalk. It was littered with rubble - chunks of roofs, car parts, and unidentifiable ruin. As Danny bent into the force of the wind, he saw a single shoe lying in the street. A children’s shoe.

              The assisted living place was not far. The prayer group must have just walked. The stone sign that read “Stoneholt Assisted Residence” had been nicked a few times, but still stood. The actual building itself was a different story. The entrance had been turned inside out and half of the roof had collapsed. With no other options, Danny and Miranda forged ahead, totally unaware of how their arms ached from holding the boys.

              “Look!” Miranda shouted, freeing up one of her hands to point.

              On the side of the lobby where the roof still remained in its proper place was a door with a plaque that read “Tornado Shelter Entrance.” They stepped over pieces of smashed furniture and sparking wires. Danny tried the knob. Locked.

              “No,” he shouted, “this can’t be!”

              Danny began banging on the door with his fist. “Help!”

              Nearby, a terrifying noise caused their heads to jerk around in fear. A horse carriage had slammed into the wall just yards from where they were standing and burst into a million little pieces. Miranda turned her head back towards Danny. She didn’t seem to be hurt, neither did Hunter, but her mouth was wide open. She understood how close they had come to being hit and hurt or even killed by the heavy wooden vehicle. “We’ve got to get in there, now” she yelled in Danny’s direction.

              The howling of the wind was almost unbearable. It was as if the storm was speaking to the little family, preparing them for what it was about to do to them. Danny knew that he’d have to get the door open quickly, or else nobody would be able to help protect them from the massive funnel approaching with increasing speed. He was hitting the door with all of his might, trying to create enough noise to alarm those on the inside.

              After a few terrifying moments, the door opened. Danny and Miranda were yanked inside by several pairs of arms, nearly tripping down the fight of stairs that immediately greeted them. A flashlight was shone in their faces.

              “Down here. Quick!” a male voice instructed them.

              Danny and Miranda were practically carried down the stairs by the strangers, the flashlight bobbing erratically in a million different directions. When they stopped moving, they found themselves in a concrete room full of elderly people, a large lantern glowing in the center.  Everyone stared at them. Danny turned to the people who had opened the door and saw that they were employees in teal scrubs. The man who had spoken was a muscular African-American with a pair of glasses that had one lens missing. His arms looked muscular, like they were nearly bursting out of his sleeves.

              “Are you guys okay?” he asked.

              “Yeah,” Danny replied, his throat burning.

              He coughed, bending to let Jesse down. Jesse refused, digging his heels into his father’s waist. Danny just sat down, embracing his son.

              “Where did you come from?” the nurse asked.

              “The church,” Miranda replied.

              Her knees gave way and she almost fell, her balance thrown off by Hunter. There was a brief scramble as nurses rushed to bring Miranda a chair. She thanked them, putting Hunter down before seating herself. Hunter sat by Danny on the floor and leaned his head against Danny’s shoulder. Neither boy had wept yet. They just breathed heavily, their eyes scanning the room as if they had never seen people before.

              “It got hit,” Danny explained. “We...we just ran.”

              Danny noticed that his leg was throbbing again. He looked down and saw that blood had seeped through the bandage.

              “You’re hurt,” an elderly woman said.

              “It’s from before,” Danny said. “Our house.”

              “My God,” the nurse said, shaking his head. “You are lucky.”

              The nurses went into action. The black nurse introduced himself as Jonas and shook Danny’s hand. His grip was confident, strong, and Danny instantly felt more at ease with where they were. A female nurse with blonde highlights in her hair rebandaged Danny’s leg with supplies from a large medical kit while Jonas and one of the residences, Adam, looked over Miranda and the boys. Jesse and Hunter had a few scratches from flying debris and Miranda had bruised her shoulder, but nothing serious. The old people kept shaking their heads and marveling at how lucky Danny and his family were. They asked about the prayer group and if Danny had seen them at the church. Danny nodded.

              “Did...did you see them when it got hit?” they asked.

              Danny shook his head slowly. Everyone grew somber and bowed their heads. Some people began to cry, and a box of tissues was passed around.

              “You folks need water?” Jonas asked Danny quietly.

              Before Danny could answer, four water bottles were pressed into his arms. The boys drank eagerly, gulping like baby birds. Miranda sipped hers slowly, a crinkle deepening between her eyes. Danny noticed her legs were shaking. He put his hand on her thigh to steady her.

              “Are you Danny Morgan?” Jonas asked.

              “Yeah.”

              Jonas’ face broke into a smile and it almost looked like tears formed in his eyes. He rubbed the back of his neck.

              “Oh, man, this has gotta be some kind of miracle,” he declared, as if to himself. “Sir, you are the reason all these people are alive right now.”

              Everyone grew quiet and began to listen. Danny looked around at the serious, wrinkled faces, confused.

              “You don’t remember me,” Jonas continued, “But I went to the first class you taught at the college. I had just moved from the coast because the weather was so bad, and I was scared. I saw your class about how to be prepared. I had planned to go to the movies that day, but I paid the class fee with that cash instead. You talked about tornadoes, about the safest places to be, and the kinds of supplies to have. I had just started working here and told the administration about what you taught. They jumped on board and we got this shelter built. And now here you are. I can’t believe it.”

              Miranda was crying. She buried her face in her hands and sobbed. Shocked, Hunter rose and wrapped his arms around his mother’s neck.

              “Mama, what’s wrong?” he cried, patting her head with his dust-coated hand. “What’s wrong?”
              “It’s ok, baby,” she told him. “I just have a lot of feelings right now.”

              Danny stood and embraced Jonas in a bear hug. Jonas clapped him on the back, chuckling. Danny didn’t let go. Slowly, the old people rose and gathered around Danny and Miranda, some more painfully than others. Miranda was comforted, offered tissues, and caressed. They stroked her red hair and dried her tears. Hunter and Jesse were given butterscotch candies from generous pockets. Enveloped in Jonas’ huge arms, Danny let the tears flow down his face. Outside, the wind still howled, like the angry breath of God.

Part III

Robert

1.

Robert rubbed the top of his head absentmindedly, feeling his short hairs tickle his palm. The motion always relaxed him, like he was warming his brain. He usually fell into the habit when he was worried about something or faced a difficult decision. This morning, it was both. Both coasts - Emerald and Ruby - were being battered by huge storms, possible tsunamis were brewing in the ocean, and tornados, fires, and dust storms were ripping up everything in between. Robert was accustomed to dealing with climate disasters on a daily, but he had never seen something like this before. It was like the planet was throwing a temper tantrum.

Robert Morgan was 16-years old when he knew he wanted to go into politics. By 35, he was a Senior Region Representative and six years later, he was selected to head the newly-formed ECAG, or Emergency Climate Aid Group. It had become clear that the effects of abrupt climate change were the nation’s top concerns, even above homeland security. Economic disorder, disease, food shortage, and more were all linked to climate, so it was only logical to attack the problem at its source instead of trying to manage the symptoms. The group was a joint effort between the government and private organizations that funded and executed research on climate change. Robert made sure that none of the participating organizations benefited from certain research slants, like the group before ECAG that had been secretly funded by Wyatt Industries, a company that made equipment for oil drilling and fracking. ECAG was meant to be devoted to unbiased science. Half of their funding went to outfitting the group with the best climate tracking technology, which they dispersed to local offices at key points, including the Emerald Coast, the Ruby Coast, and the tornado regions. Appointed officials at these offices were responsible for issuing warnings, and all the data they received was sent back to the main office at the Capitol. The other half of the budget went to paying for staff. There were scientists, doctors, pilots, administrators, and politicians who have proven themselves to be committed to data, not popularity. Robert was the poster child for that type of politician.