Yield (26 page)

“
Please
…
”

As he reaches the first floor, he slams headlong into a wall of debris. Fear surges through him.
I can
’
t breathe.
Jonathon claws at the wreckage. Air catches in his lungs. The sounds of his own gasping bounce loudly back from the gravestone walls.

Splinters of light peek through cracks in the concrete and metal. Jonathon rips at the chaos, throwing pieces of lives behind him. Tears of panic spring into his eyes. He cracks the right lens of his glasses just to wipe them all away. Jon digs into the rubble with a desperate ferocity.
I can
’
t breathe
…

Hot rain drops hit the man
’
s skin as he crawls out into a changed world. His breathing slows
—
shock overcoming fear.

Jonathon struggles to his feet. He looks around at an obliterated landscape. Scraps of burnt paper fall like the snows of December all around. Just blocks from what used to be the Space Needle, Seattle
’
s greatest landmarks lie in pieces upon a scorched earth. Jonathon looks up. There is no sign of the top three floors of KOMO
’
s structure, nor the people who once occupied them. Only ruins and death surround as far as the eye can see.

A scrap of cardboard flutters gracefully through the sky before landing beside him. He pulls it out from under the edge of some broken concrete. Charred and bloodstained, it reads: THE END IS HERE. Slowly, the sign falls from his trembling hands.

Stunned and bloodied survivors of Northwest flight 661 emerge from their plane
’
s smoldering ruins. Chunks of the airliner are scattered across the freeway. Through the rain, eyes search for lost friends or weep for family. Others look for possessions and answers. All scan the flaming wreckage for signs of hope.

Between the fused pieces of metal and vehicles, bags and their contents are strewn all along the asphalt. The possessions clutched so tightly in life now lie discarded upon the blackened ground.

Fire burns in pockets on the interstate. It ignites the husk of a car nearby, shooting fiberglass and aluminum through a small group of survivors huddling out of the rain. Their dying screams echo across the wasteland.

“
Keep moving!
”
Devin yells to the cluster of people closest to him. Spinning blades from a plane turbine whine nearby.

No one budges.

The fireman starts shoving survivors back with his solid arms. Confusion and panic slow their feet. The gravity etched into his face convinces them otherwise.

Devin reaches down and lifts Terra from the ground. Her blue eyes stare straight ahead, lost in a broken infinity.
“
Come on.
”
Devin puts his arm around her, gently helping the teenager forward.

He spots a familiar frame towering well above the others.
“
We
’
ve got to get them all back,
”
Devin shouts to Chris.
“
There
’
s still fuel inside!
”

Without warning, Isabel begins to clutch at her pregnant stomach.
“
Izz?!
”
Chris asks. He grabs the black duffel bag off her shoulder and pulls her body into him. Wincing, she caves into his arms.

“
Nice to meet you, Izz. I
’
m a firefighter,
”
Devin says. He holds his hands out peacefully.
“
Do you mind if I check your baby?
”

Isabel shakes her head. She tries breathing deeper to stop the throbbing pain in her abdomen, but it grows, squeezing against her insides.

“
Can you tell me how far along you are?
”
Devin asks. He methodically tests the sides of the flight attendant
’
s stomach.

“
Seven months.
”

“
Where does it hurt, love?
”

“
Right here.
”
Isabel moves his hand to hers.
“
I think it
’
s going away now
…
”

*  *  *

Terra crumbles to her knees beside them, looking deep into the madness around her. She vaguely registers Devin
’
s and Isabel
’
s voices. The murmuring of their words blurs together with the crackling of fire in her mind. She can feel the tongues of flame that took her mother
— feel their searing touch beckoning. The welcome embrace of death is so eager to reunite.

God, let me die,
she pleads up to the heavens. A single tear answers, briefly escaping her sapphire cage.

*  *  *

“
You let me know if it starts to hurt again. Okay, love?
”
Devin says. His soothing accent can soften even the darkest of days.

He turns to shout back at the other passengers closest to the plane.
“
Everyone! You need to get back
…
”

Another explosion lights up the sky behind the cargo hold, rippling into the spinning turbine. The engine blades come apart. Deadly fragments hurtle into flesh and bone.

Cringing from the blast, new terror slices through with the shrapnel. The mob of survivors suddenly begins to run. They push at one another, fighting and scratching to escape the aftermath.

In the midst of the chaos, Devin calmly kneels. He takes Terra Yun
’
s small shoulders in his hands. The sounds and bodies swarming all around them fade away.
“
We
’
ve got to get away from here, child,
”
he whispers. His emerald eyes scream out the same hushed plea.
“
It
’
s still not safe.
”

Slowly, Terra begins to leave that place of tragic memory and focus on the immediacy in Devin
’
s voice. She nods, feeling almost weightless as he pulls her up.

“
Come on.
”
Devin puts his fatherly arm around her and strides into the pack. People and panic blur past them as they walk under the deepening rain.

Stunned and bloodied survivors of Northwest flight 661 emerge from their plane
’
s smoldering ruins. Chunks of the airliner are scattered across the freeway. Through the rain, eyes search for lost friends or weep for family. Others look for possessions and answers. All scan the flaming wreckage for signs of hope.

Between the fused pieces of metal and vehicles, bags and their contents are strewn all along the asphalt. The possessions clutched so tightly in life now lie discarded upon the blackened ground.

Fire burns in pockets on the interstate. It ignites the husk of a car nearby, shooting fiberglass and aluminum through a small group of survivors huddling out of the rain. Their dying screams echo across the wasteland.

“
Keep moving!
”
Devin yells to the cluster of people closest to him. Spinning blades from a plane turbine whine nearby.

No one budges.

The fireman starts shoving survivors back with his solid arms. Confusion and panic slow their feet. The gravity etched into his face convinces them otherwise.

Devin reaches down and lifts Terra from the ground. Her blue eyes stare straight ahead, lost in a broken infinity.
“
Come on.
”
Devin puts his arm around her, gently helping the teenager forward.

He spots a familiar frame towering well above the others.
“
We
’
ve got to get them all back,
”
Devin shouts to Chris.
“
There
’
s still fuel inside!
”

Without warning, Isabel begins to clutch at her pregnant stomach.
“
Izz?!
”
Chris asks. He grabs the black duffel bag off her shoulder and pulls her body into him. Wincing, she caves into his arms.

“
Nice to meet you, Izz. I
’
m a firefighter,
”
Devin says. He holds his hands out peacefully.
“
Do you mind if I check your baby?
”

Isabel shakes her head. She tries breathing deeper to stop the throbbing pain in her abdomen, but it grows, squeezing against her insides.

“
Can you tell me how far along you are?
”
Devin asks. He methodically tests the sides of the flight attendant
’
s stomach.

“
Seven months.
”

“
Where does it hurt, love?
”

“
Right here.
”
Isabel moves his hand to hers.
“
I think it
’
s going away now
…
”

*  *  *

Terra crumbles to her knees beside them, looking deep into the madness around her. She vaguely registers Devin
’
s and Isabel
’
s voices. The murmuring of their words blurs together with the crackling of fire in her mind. She can feel the tongues of flame that took her mother
— feel their searing touch beckoning. The welcome embrace of death is so eager to reunite.

God, let me die,
she pleads up to the heavens. A single tear answers, briefly escaping her sapphire cage.

*  *  *

“
You let me know if it starts to hurt again. Okay, love?
”
Devin says. His soothing accent can soften even the darkest of days.

He turns to shout back at the other passengers closest to the plane.
“
Everyone! You need to get back
…
”

Another explosion lights up the sky behind the cargo hold, rippling into the spinning turbine. The engine blades come apart. Deadly fragments hurtle into flesh and bone.

Cringing from the blast, new terror slices through with the shrapnel. The mob of survivors suddenly begins to run. They push at one another, fighting and scratching to escape the aftermath.

In the midst of the chaos, Devin calmly kneels. He takes Terra Yun
’
s small shoulders in his hands. The sounds and bodies swarming all around them fade away.
“
We
’
ve got to get away from here, child,
”
he whispers. His emerald eyes scream out the same hushed plea.
“
It
’
s still not safe.
”

Slowly, Terra begins to leave that place of tragic memory and focus on the immediacy in Devin
’
s voice. She nods, feeling almost weightless as he pulls her up.

“
Come on.
”
Devin puts his fatherly arm around her and strides into the pack. People and panic blur past them as they walk under the deepening rain.

Battered KOMO employees climb out of their stairwell
’
s narrow opening, pushing chunks of rock and dirt aside. They walk out on either side of a kneeling body covered in dust. Ash blankets his broad
shoulders. The newsroom survivors move around him, squinting up into the stinging rain. Light from a blood-red sun does not warm them. It does not calm. It
’
s as if the very heat has been sucked from it, leaving only the seeping color of the lost.