Cataclysm II

Chapter 1.

            I awoke in Hell.

            If it was Hell, though, it was the Norse hell, where time and bone froze alike, and the damned were forced to wander.

            I opened my eyes and let them adjust to the freezing darkness. I was pinned by something that yielded slightly when I struggled. I pushed hard against my prison, and it shattered like an egg.

            Like a phoenix of ice, I was reborn.

            The darkness was not so complete when I stood, bluish light filtering through the densely indigo air through my shattered apartment windows. A bluish blob the size of my index nail  hung in the darkly blue sky. The moon? The sun?

            I kicked my feet free of the drywall that had fallen and stood next to my collapsed bed. What had happened? I had fallen asleep late last night, perhaps two or three. My uniform for my next shift as a security guard for the munitions plant I worked at was hanging on the door, along with my Glock. The air was bitterly frigid and felt thicker. Whatever had happened had cause some amount of damage, but I couldn’t hear sirens, or even see lights. What time was it? What day was it?

            I dressed in a long sleeve shirt and a thin hoodie, then put my parka over that. Long underwear, jeans, snow pants, a pair of regular socks, and then over those, my thick woolen socks, then my heavy winter boots. It hadn’t had a chance to snow yet here, but I didn’t want to take any chances. I was already feeling numb.

            The door leading out of my apartment was frosted, but after heaving on it it swung in with a crunch. Outside, the situation was even worse than I thought. The city had huge swathes of buildings that had partially collapsed. The metropolitan area of Elysia was huge, stuck in the massive, rolling forests of Missouri. Surrounding the city, small hamlets dotted the woods. Lights were out all over the place, and only here and there a light glowed in Elysia, as far as I could see. A wolf bayed in the distance, and dogs, here and there, barked. Otherwise, there was silence.

            I grabbed my pistol and holster and belted them under my parka. It was going to be dangerous. I knocked on my neighbor’s door. No answer. Mrs. Hamstead was aging, though, and it was possible she was hurt. The door was locked, but a window was unlocked, and I climbed inside. Her house was in even worse shape than mine. Her refrigerator had fallen over, and was lying open, food scattered across the floor. Lights had shattered, and glass glittered everywhere. I stepped gingerly over a picture of her and her grandkids and walked to her bedroom.

            “Mrs. Hamstead?” The small apartment was silent. I pushed the door open and saw that the ceiling had collapsed, but the slight figure in the bed had no debris on her.

            “Mrs. Hamstead, are you okay?” She didn’t stir, and a sick feeling came over me. She was facing away from me, and I stepped forward and shook her.

            “Mrs. Hamstead?” She rolled onto her back, and I felt sick. Where her eyes should be were sockets, and bloody tracks ran down her face. Blood had bubbled from her mouth and stained her flowery nightgown. Her frail body was bruised red and black. I stepped back. She was old, perhaps whatever had knocked down so many buildings had killed her. Even so, I felt ill. She had been kind to me, and her death struck me deeply.

            I tried the next two apartments, and the result was the same. After I entered a young couple’s two bedroom flat and found both of them and their two year old daughter all dead, the same way, I staggered onto the balcony and vomited, retching over the side to the frozen ground twenty feet below. Whatever catastrophe had caused this was unlikely to have only spared me. I knew that I needed to keep looking.

            I heard a faint cry when I passed a door a few down from mine on my way back to my apartment. I paused, pressing my ear against the glass window. The cry came again. Another survivor? I tried the window and front door. Both locked. I kicked the door in.

            Inside, a small fire licked from wiring touching a cabinet, but the cabinet was too soaked with frost from a gaping gash in the wall to catch. I moved into the bedroom. The bed was clear, save for a heavy beam across the legs of the inhabitant. The beam shifted easily, and the person who had called for help sat up and looked at me.

            “What do you want?” She demanded. I stopped, surprised.

            “I was saving you.”

            “More like you wanted to rape me. I could have moved the beam.”

            “Then why didn’t you?” I retorted. Her arrogance in presuming I had come to rape her astonished me.

            “Fine then.” I snapped. “Freeze.” I turned and walked from the room.

            “Wait!” I heard her cry. There was a thump from the bedroom. I paused and turned. She had tried to get out of the bed and had fallen. She was only wearing panties and a nightshirt, and I could see her long legs were bruised and bleeding. I helped her up.

            “It’s…so cold.” She moaned.

            “I need to take you to my apartment. Are you comfortable with that?”

            “How do I know you’re not going to rape me?”

            “You don’t.”

 She gaped at me, then recoiled. “Then why on earth should I go with you?” She snapped.

“Because you can either go with me, or stay here and die. I’m not going to take advantage of you.”

She appeared for a moment to almost reject my offer, but a wave of pain crossed her face. She trembled, hands going gingerly to her wounds.

“Oh God,” She breathed, “I don’t know what’s happened.”

“Are you coming?” My breath was leaving clouds in the air.

“Why should I come?”

“Food, heat, companionship. We need to stick together with other survivors or we’ll have no chance.”

“Oh, fine.” She said. “At least get me some pants so I know you won’t be ogling me.”

“You’re not worthy of ogling right now.” She glanced at me sharply, then sighed.

“I have sweatpants in my chest of drawers.” She said, sitting carefully on the bed.

I got her a pair, and found a suitcase in her closet that I filled with clothing she would need; bras, underwear, sweatpants, hoodies, some long sleeve shirts and thermal socks. She watched me pack the bag in silence after sliding into the sweatpants, pulling her blond hair into a ponytail.

“What about toiletries?” She asked.

“You can get those together as you need them.” I answered. “How much food do you have?”

“Some.” She said. “Mainly frozen food.” She snorted and gave a wry smile. “I guess most of it’s frozen now.”

“I’ll see what you have.”

She had a duffel bag in one of her coat closets, and I began throwing canned goods into it, as well as some frozen food I knew would keep for a while. The vegetables were spoiled, but the meat would keep.

            She emerged from the bedroom.

            “I can’t move the suitcase.”

            “I’ll get it.” I said.

            We moved down the hall, me carrying everything, her with her small back of toiletries. The air was still a dark blue, the blotch of whatever celestial body was ruling the sky high overhead. There was about as much light as a winter dawn filtering through the indigo sky.

            Without warning, I heard a crash, and a man jumped out of the window of an apartment down the walkway. When he turned and saw us, he grinned. He was wearing a knit cap and a winter coat, and carrying a baseball bat. He dropped a sack he had been carrying and began moving toward us.

            “What’s this?” he leered. “Walking corpses?”

            “Don’t come any closer if you mean harm.” I said firmly. He kept walking, about fifty feet away. I pulled my pistol out, chambering a round with a practiced movement.

            “Don’t move.”

            He ignored the gun, hefted the bat, and charged. I fired, but there was a loud thud, and the bullet dropped from the barrel. The girl shrieked, backpedaling as the looter swung his bat. I ducked underneath his swing, letting it pass overhead as I slammed my head into his stomach. He gasped and I brought the pistol up into his crotch. I straightened, and as he doubled over I cracked his head with the butt of the pistol. He staggered, and I snatched the bat away. Cursing, he pulled a long knife from a sheath at his side. My vision flickered, and I swung the bat as hard as I could. The dent it left in his head was sickeningly visible through the knit cap, and he fell forward, leaking blood. I stood, breathing heavily. The chaos had begun so soon.

            The girl wretched behind me, and I heard vomit splatter against the concrete. Quickly and distastefully I searched the body. I left the cash he had, took the gold coins in his pocket. His boots were my size, so I took them, as well as the knife and sheath, and the aluminum bat.

            “We need to get inside.” I told the girl. She nodded, and I saw that she was crying. I helped her into my apartment, then closed and bolted the door. I slid my couch over in front of the door, and then leaned my bookcase across the window. It wasn’t much, but it would help.

            Inside my bedroom, I pulled out a propane heater. I lit it with a match, and then pulled my gloves off and began to warm my hands. The girl took a seat on the bed. As I took my jacket, I heard a small sound behind me. I turned and saw that she was sobbing. I took a breath and crossed to the bed, sitting next to her. She cried harder, leaning against my shoulder.

            “There there.” I said. I felt completely useless; I had never comforted a crying woman before.

            “What’s going on?” She sobbed into my shoulder. “Is this all a bad dream?”

            “I wish it was.”