Jagged- Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Drip. Drip. Drip. Wetness splattered the back of my hand. My eyes cracked open but there was hardly light. An exit sign glowed on its side.
Splat. Splat. A water leak? I lifted my head but a slicing pain made me instantly regret it. I moved my hand to my forehead, but my fingers came away sticky wet. Shakily, I felt along my hairline till the skin was no longer smooth.
The dripping wetness on my hand wasn’t water. It was blood.
My fingers probed the deep gash. At least three fingertips wide. It didn’t end there. I traced the line of oozing fire along my right eyebrow, across my brow bone, down the bridge of my nose until it jutted off across my left cheek.
What happened?
Despite the swimming of my head, I forced myself to sit up, keeping one hand pressed against the gash. I need a doctor.
I tried to get up, but couldn’t move my right leg.
“Help,” the word cracked out of my mouth. “Help,” I repeated, not louder than a whisper.
Where am I? Everything was so dark. Would anyone hear me?
Creaking came from above to the left, like metal on metal. I cradled my head in my arms as a crack ripped the air. Something heavy crashed to the floor. Dust showered my skin and stuck to my nostrils.
That’s when I remembered the flickering light, the shaking floor, the collapsing ceiling. In the pale light of the Exit sign I could just make out piles of rubble. Indistinguishable mounds of darkness. The whole building could fall on me. Adrenaline numbed some of the pain, but also made the blood seep out in quick little spurts.
Keeping one hand on the gash, I used the other to try and push myself out from under whatever was pinning my leg. No use. I need a bandage. No, I need like stitches. Cringing at the thought of what the cut had done to my face, I hoped there was a good cosmetic surgeon on duty when I got to the E.R. The ceiling above gave another creak.
If I ever get there.
“Help,” I found my voice and shouted. “Please. Anyone?” Just another moan from the ceiling.
Wriggled my arms out of my hoodie, I twisted the sleeves into a long line, then wrapped it across my head. The cotton was a decent enough sponge. At least the blood wasn’t in my eyes.
Using both hands, I heaved myself back to free my right leg. I pushed my left foot against what felt like a heavy support beam.
I threw all my strength into it. My head felt so woozy, I might black out. But then the beam gave just enough and my left leg slid free.
Tingling pain rushed into my ankle and foot. But I could feel it.
Panting, I sat there until my breath slowed and the Exit sign came back into focus. With blood back in my leg, I decided to try it out. It was shaky but I could keep weight on it. Must not be broken.
Standing on a concrete slab now, I heard a steady hissing above me. A busted pipe or something. The air had a twinge to it; like burnt rubber. The hair on my arms and back of neck rose.
I stared up at the black gaping hole above me. How do I get out of here? The glowing exit sign revealed several large pieces of sheet rock and debris that angled up to what I hoped was the next level.
Ground level. What about Darrin?
My head spun like a top, whirling my vision. But I had to get out of there, so I put my hands on the dusty sheet rock and crawled up it like a monkey, drops of blood splattering the dust. At the top, complete blackness.
I spread my fingers out to find a smooth patch of ground. Put only my upper body on it first. It held. Pulling my lower body up with my hands, I tried to keep my weight even. I army crawled forward until I hit a large hard object.
Still no light. Nothing to see at all.
“Hello? Anyone there?” Nothing but the hissing and a distant dripping. Tightened the bandage around my head.
Used the hard object to help me stand, but my legs were shaking. Over the rise of it though was light; faint, gray light, but enough.
Twice I blacked out as I maneuvered around the debris on the floor. The light got closer. As I stepped on the cushions of broken chairs and saw that it came from a broken window. I was in the condo foyer. That window led to the street. Freedom.
Using my hand, I swung my shaking legs over a smashed side table and my foot stepped on something soft and squishy.
Looking down, I screamed.
My foot was placed on the raw flesh of a dead woman’s face. Her body had been speared by a fallen metal rod. In the gray light, her blood was a black pool on the carpet.
I leapt off her, crashing into the broken glass of the window. More blood streaming from my hands and arms.
Still screaming, picking out shards of glass the size of knives from my palms.
“Darrin.” I turned back to the demolished foyer of the condo, my eyes searching for the place the elevator should be. Instead mounds of rubble in the darkness.
The smell of burning plastic.
I wiped the blood from my palms on my running shorts. The dead woman’s open eyes glared at me; her mouth open in her last cry.
The glass sliced my bare shoulders, but I didn’t care. Pulled myself onto the windowsill and was about to jump when I caught sight of the street.
Demolished stumps of buildings that had once been smoldered in the pale gray light. Dust and smoke poured out the windows. Car alarms went off somewhere in the fog. A loud crash as the remains of another building up the street collapsed.
More screams. From me, or others?
Yes, across the street, several small dark figures running. The windowsill beneath me shuddered like a tired machine. I leapt. Hit the concrete hard, my knees smashing. Chunks of concrete pelted my back like bullets.
The condo buckled. Blast of wind knocked me into the street.
Then deafening silence.
But I had to look back. All forty floors had fallen, compressing into a mound of gray wreckage not more than two stories high.
“Darrin!” I shrieked. 34th floor. Room with view of the park. Our room. My Darrin.
The mass of our building faded as I blacked out again. When I came to, I found myself still on hands and knees, loose pebbles digging into my cuts, crawling toward the heap.
I didn’t notice the car swerving the wreckage on the road, or register it slowing behind me. But, I did hear the cutting voice that yelled from the driver’s side.
“Honey, you got a death wish or something?”
I turned my head. It was a middle-aged woman with red hair and gray roots. Or was it ash that made her roots look gray?
“Darrin,” I mumbled, stretching an arm out toward him. But I couldn’t tell if I was getting any closer or not. The whole street seemed tipped on the side at an odd angle.
I heard a door open and an engine idling. Then there were steps on the pavement. Arms gripped me under the shoulders.
“Come on,” the lady said, heaving me back, feet dragging.
“No,” my torso squirmed, but unconsciousness was pulling at me. “Darrin’s in there.”
The arms released me. The woman crouched down, pale blue eyes level with mine. The smell of lavender mixed with smoke and ash. Her words were like pelting rain. “He’s gone, honey. They’re all gone.”