Kealan Burke: Concrete Gods

Alistair ran, elbowing and jostling, cursing and hopping his way along, seeking the impossible…safety. The soundtrack of screams and car horns pierced both the air and his eardrums; he blocked them out, his maroon tie swung over his shoulder as if to watch the madness recede.

Someone screamed for help, somewhere up ahead. A quick scan of the sloping sidewalk showed a woman covered in blood, squatting on the curb, her hand outstretched. She didn't seem aware that a chunk of masonry the size of a basketball had put a deep depression in the top of her oozing head. Alistair sidestepped the brisk fount of blood shooting from her wound. He kneed away her outstretched hand and wondered how she still clung to life, or what she thought was to be gained by survival now that the city had seen fit to disfigure her. He tried not to meet her one remaining eye, and did not heed her agonized scream as he passed.

Doppler bent her pathetic wails as Alistair rounded the corner of Sixth and Maple. He sighed, only vaguely aware of the sweat trickling like moist spiders from his hairy armpits.

And then he halted, stunned by the tableau of total devastation that was laid out before him.

The road had become a crater. Thick billowing smoke shielded him from the worst of the carnage: The bumpers and crumpled hoods of cars stuck up from the hole at odd angles like frozen shark fins, trailing thick black tendrils of oily smoke. Alistair saw a handful of panicked motorists who had somehow survived being abruptly dropped into the chasm in the earth. They now clambered atop their vehicles like shipwrecked sailors and waved their arms at the uncaring sky.

The pungent smell of gasoline stung his nose.

Overhead, the suspended traffic lights blinked green, but no one heeded their consent.

From where he stood, he could see where the pavement had collapsed into the gaping hole, leaving sharp, gray edges of broken stone behind in rows of jagged teeth. And then they moved.

It's chewing , Alistair thought, absurdly. He was struck then by an impossible sight which registered in the periphery of his vision.

Through the thickening plumes of foul-smelling smoke, as rubber melted and fire spread, he saw that the buildings comprising the unspectacular skyline were shifting. The swaying of these concrete and steel behemoths seemed almost choreographed. As Alistair watched, one of them took a bow and was abruptly obscured by a blossom of fire within the widening crater.

A hoarse cry ripped through the smoke, followed by a shrieking, blistered man wearing a coat of raging fire.

Alistair stepped back and tried to run, but he was not quick enough.

The burning man embraced him, as if afraid to face his fate alone.

Catherine Banks whispered feverish prayers. Her husband drew her close against his chest. They were huddled in the basement, cold and afraid, with the groaning earth above them. Somewhere up there, little Perry was barking and whining. They could only imagine what the poor mutt was feeling.

"I should go get him," Jack said, but all courage drained from his voice and fear left his teeth clicking in time with the tremors. "He shouldn't be up there. Not alone."

They had left the basement door open but Perry hadn't followed. The dog had followed his instincts, barking and snarling in a reckless attempt to dissuade the threat that had engulfed them.

The chest freezer at their backs shuddered and died, the naked light bulb over their heads dancing between the oaken joists before it too, dimmed. They watched in fearful silence until it hummed and returned, re-washing the stone walls with warmth and shadow.

"It's not safe. Try calling him again," Catherine said. In truth, she was angry at her own selfishness. She didn't want Jack to go up there, to leave her where all she would hear would be her own heartbeat and the distant cries of her neighbors. She loved Perry, considered him part of the family, but couldn't bear the thought of being without Jack; being alone down here in the gloom.

Jack drew in a shaky breath and yelled for the dog. The barking stopped. Was he dead? Then they heard the scrabble of claws and a low whine and the barking recommenced, louder and more agitated than before. Jack cringed. "He's always been terrified of the basement. We'll have to drag him down here or he'll get hurt."

He made to move but Catherine pressed closer against him. She knew Jack loved Perry much more than she did but for God sake, going back upstairs when the kitchen ceiling had suddenly, without warning decided to come crashing down? It was sheer madness.

"You can't leave me here," she told him. Her hands, of their own accord, grabbed handfuls of his shirt. "Perry will be okay."

Jack cleared his throat and ran a grimy hand through her hair. "No he won't. He may be cute but he's also dumb as a sack of hammers. I have to get him before something happens to him."

Catherine held him where he was. "What about me?"

He gave her a weak smile. Stark terror and streaks of dirt added twenty years to his face. "It will only take a second."

"Jack, please."

A crackling noise, as if someone were walking on unstable ice. They froze. Listened.

Jack instinctively ducked his head, even though huddled beneath the archway beside the old boiler they were as low as they could get. The sound came again, and crouched within it was something like a low, coughing laugh. Catherine moaned.

"What is that?"

The sound seemed to surround them. The walls shook. The crunching and crackling rose in pitch and then faded, replaced by a hollow clunk and then silence. In a matter of seconds it was over.

"Jack?"

"I think the foundation is giving way."

"Oh Jesus. What are we going to do?"

He swallowed and she heard the resulting click. "Well, we can't stay here that's for damned sure."

"But this is supposed to be the safest place, isn't it?"

"Not if the whole house is going to come crashing down on top of us. We have to get out before it buries us alive."

"I'm scared, Jack."

He rose to a stoop and guided her up with a hand on her elbow. "So am I, but I think coming down here was a big mistake. In fact I think we did exactly the opposite of what they tell you to do in situations like this. We need to get out of the house."

"But what's happening? Is it an earthquake?"

"I don't know. I've never been in one before. Sure feels like it."

He stepped forward, their hands joined until Catherine pulled him back. "What is it?" he asked. The fear made the whites of his eyes seem almost luminous.

"Tell me we're going to be all right, Jack. I need to hear you say it. Please."

Jack nodded. "We're…" He stopped, turned his head toward the old wooden stairwell. Catherine tugged on his hand, frightened. " What? What is it? "

"Perry. He's stopped barking."

Together they listened for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, Jack yelled for the dog. Silence.

"C'mon," he said. The worry was evident in his tone.

Jack let go of her hand and batted away a veil of cobwebs that had draped itself over his face. Catherine looked around at the trembling walls.

Please, God, don't let us die down here.

Jack moved slowly toward the stairs, eyes darting to trace the origin of the slightest sounds. The light flickered. Catherine felt gooseflesh tap dance across her cold skin.

"Hold my hand," she whispered. Jack felt blindly for her and then a loud, resounding crack made them both cry out. The room shifted. Jack gasped and grunted as the stone surface upon which he stood separated, buckled and split.

"Oh Jesus," he moaned. He pushed Catherine away, planting a firm hand in the center of her chest. Another crack and then Jack dropped a notch. His arms and hands were now stretched out on both sides, as if he were walking a tightrope. "Shit Cathy, the floor's giving way."