Jacqueline Druga: Under the Gray Skies

There were no people, no workers, no recognizable landmarks or structures. It was a gray area reduced to sticks and stones, and even though it wasn’t very far, for as far as I could see there was nothing but mounds of rubble.

Not only was I in an unfamiliar city, I was also in a state that I have never visited before in my life, three thousand miles from home. I wouldn’t have a clue where I was even if the city hadn’t crumbled.

Whatever it was that happened was bigger than even I originally thought. No one had been through the area to look. The mounds of debris were all that remained of the airport and roadways.

I had to get my bearings. There was no sun to look up to, the gray skies blocked that. I had to find a way out of the disaster zone. No one was looking for me.

The water moved across my feet soaking into my shoes making my socks and feet wet. I looked all around. I remembered seeing the city skyline when Lindsay’s husband dropped us off at the airport. I moved through the rubble, away from the mound I had just descended from. As I cleared it I saw that most of it was a roadway. The road had lifted and acted like a bulldozer, bringing everything with it as it moved, pushing until it formed a huge mountain of debris.

Finally, I had cleared enough of the rubble to get a good view, trying to make heads or tails of where I was.

Twisted metal, the remains of the tram rail wrapped around blocks of debris like a ribbon around a present. The water reached my ankles and as it did, I caught a glimpse of the city skyline across the bay.

Or what was left of it.

Even with the overcast sky, I could see it was crippled, only one or two buildings remained partially standing.

The city was gone, I couldn’t head there, but it did give me direction.

I had to walk away from it, which was east.

Turning to go east my weakened legs gave way and I tumbled into the water. I didn’t even know if I was hurt. The water felt good against my skin. My flesh was parched and needed every splash of that liquid. The positive thing was that for an instant I didn’t feel gross. I could only image what I looked like, or smelled like.

My fall told me I was weak and I needed assistance if I was going to make it any distance. I searched diligently and found a piece of metal about three feet long. It was heavy but it would serve its purpose as a walking stick.

After stumbling to stand, I walked slowly with my back to the skyline.

The further I moved from the mound of debris that served as my entombment the better I assessed what was going on.

Cars were everywhere, upside down and piled on top of each other. Had I reached the parking lot of the airport? Was that why I was seeing so many cars? It also explained why I hadn’t seen any bodies. Surely with all the destruction, there’d be bodies. I could smell them. I just couldn’t see them.

Not far, or long into my walk the sky darkened causing me to look at my watch. It was only two in the afternoon, yet it felt and looked like night was coming. I soon discovered there was some sort of freak storm brewing.

The sky above me swirled with threatening black clouds and flashes of lightening shot through them.

I was out in the open and needed to find shelter. Maybe one of the cars would serve as protection, I just needed to find an accessible one. Just when that thought hit me, as I searched for a viable car, a plane came into view. It was somewhat in the distance and lay on top of smashed cars.

The nearer I drew to it I saw the wings were off and the body was dented as its belly lay near to the ground.

Apparently, like the tram, it had been thrown and rolled.

The plane was tilted with one door open. I focused on that. My destination.

Blasting sounds of thunder unlike anything I ever heard caused my ears to ring and the ground to tremble. It had gotten darker in a snap of my fingers and the plane was illuminated ominously during the continuous flashes of lightening.

Whether getting in a metal tube was smart or not, it was my only option. I needed shelter from the storm that was moments away from striking.

It looked easier than it was in reality.

Even with the door of the plane open, it was still too high for me. Thankfully, the plane had rolled on top of smashed cars. After getting my back pack inside, I used the cars as a ladder to climb inside.

The plane was tilted, giving the interior a sloped effect. The second I entered I caught a whiff of an all too familiar smell. One I had lived with for days.

Death.

The seats were empty, and I didn’t see bodies. The smell came from somewhere. Where?

I had entered through what I assumed was the door between coach and first class. I looked to my right then left, it seemed like the plane was empty. Then again, the interior was dark. Even though I believed I had acquired great night vision, I needed light, no I wanted it. I was tired of not seeing anything. There had to be a flashlight somewhere. Deciding that I would search the galley or go near the cockpit, I made my way up the slanted aisle of first class. It wasn’t too hard to walk, as long as I held onto the seats. I figured it was first class because it was the front of the plane, the seats were bigger, but it wasn’t as luxurious as my mind imagined it would be. Bagged blankets and tiny pillows were on the floor along with tiny bottles of water.

Still, no bodies, no people.

But something was in there and it was dead. I knew the smell. It burned my nostrils, and I kept my t-shirt kerchief over my nose and mouth. After setting my backpack on a seat, I believed I knew where the smell came from. With each step, it grew stronger. I crossed the small doorway which led to the galley. It was impossible to even walk. Metal carts, cases of water, and other packed items were everywhere. It was evident it was a free for all for stock when the plane rolled. Standing there, looking over the pile of items, I spotted the small open latch door on the side of the galley. It wasn’t big, like a cabinet, but clearly I could see items secured against that door. Two of which were a pair of flashlights in brackets.

Bingo.

I began my climb around the items that rolled against the left side of the plane where I not only discovered the flashlights, I discovered the source of the smell.

The flight attendants must have been preparing the plane when it all happened. They were buried beneath carts, stock and boxes. Limbs and arms extended out from the interior wreckage. I could make out a face partially. How many were there?

I inched through a bit more, extended my reach and grabbed one of the flashlights. Upon turning it on, I discovered the walls were splattered with blood. The limbs that I saw had already started to decompose badly. I wanted to vomit, I really did. But I didn’t.

I felt horrible for them, they had bounced around the cabin. Had they died instantly? Did they suffer? I just wanted to grab some water and get out, find someplace else, but then it started to rain. Another one of those torrential downpours, it sounded like buckets of water hitting the metal of the plane.

Leaving at this moment wasn’t an option.

I was stuck and had to make do.

If I was going to make it home to my husband and children, I knew several things had to occur. One of which was getting out of the disaster zone. In order to do so I had to have my strength, be safe and be able to survive. I wasn’t sure where help was. It was out there somewhere. Apparently the city was abandoned. Perhaps it was a volatile and dangerous area. Maybe the storms kept rescue crews away. Whatever the case, they weren’t searching, or looking for me, I had to find them and I didn’t have a clue how near or far they were.