In
Search of David
Yaritza
Garcia
Copyright 2012 by Yaritza Garcia
Smashwords Edition
For
my best friend, David,
who has saved me more than once.
Part
One
-This is what happened.
I woke up on the floor in my room, my head pounding. What just happened? I could see from where I lay that my room was a complete wreck. My floor was broken and uneven. My fish tank had shattered to the floor-- the fish had become dry lumps laying on their sides. Even my window had shattered completely, the blinds hanging on by a cord.
An earthquake? I could hear the faint screams of horrified people coming from outside. My heart began pounding faster. The realization that something terribly wrong had happened finally sank in. I stood up carefully, knowing that my floor was unsteady, not wanting to end up falling through. I peeked through my window from where I stood. The apartment building right across from mine had crumbled almost entirely. Then my heart seemed to stop all at once, and I began to scream in panic.
I stumbled out of the door and into my best friend’s room.
“David!!” I screamed hoarsely, but he wasn’t there. His room was surprisingly unaffected by whatever had just happened. It was pristine compared to what I had just seen.
“David!!” I screamed again as I ran out, frantically searching through the apartment for him. I ran to the living room with weak knees, but he was nowhere to be found. I didn’t see our two cats anywhere.
So, alone, I cried. I cried hard out of confusion and fear. I knelt down on the floor by the sofa and blubbered like a child. That is, until I heard someone speak.
Like flipping a switch, I instantly stopped crying and listened up. Nothing but the sound of far-off people crying and screaming…until I heard it again. It was someone gasping.
“David?” I asked more to myself as I followed where the sound was coming from. I crawled around the couch slowly, fearing the worst. On my floor I saw a man lying on his back, struggling to breathe. He was big in length and width, no doubt made to look bigger by that strange protective uniform he was wearing, something I had never seen before.
“You…” he managed to gargle when he saw me, “You…girl…”
I sat next to the man, looking down on his blood-stained face.
“Are you okay?” is all I could think to say.
“You…” he said again, “You…girl…you must…fight…”
What? Surely he was delirious. He seemed gravely wounded.
“I’ll call an ambulance for you”, I said stupidly as the world around us seemed in ruins, “Hang on.”
I started to get up but he grabbed my hand with surprising agility.
“No!” he choked out, “There are none.”
“What?”
“Listen to me, something fucked up is happening!” he spat out with urgency, “You must take this and defend yourself. Kill as many as you can. Hide. Don’t go to the shelters! Most of them are just traps!”
He coughed uncontrollably until blood sputtered out.
“You take this gun, and you protect yourself, and hide until it’s over. It WILL be over. Just live until then…Just survive it.”
He handed me what I would later come to know as a Barrett REC7. At that moment, though, it was just a menacing-looking weapon that I had no business holding.
“I…I can’t…I just…”
“DO IT!” He choked out. Those were his last words as his grip loosened on my arm and his brown eyes stared eerily at my ceiling.
I had a chill down my spine and my blood seemed to be running cold. Fifty thoughts seemed to crowd my mind at once. A man had just died on my floor, dressed like something from a Halo videogame and speaking of worldly doom.
I grabbed the rifle he had offered me and swung it on my shoulder by the strap like an awkward purse. Then without thinking I quickly dug in his pockets. I found a small pistol, which I quickly pocketed. Then I stood up, looking down at him, his words echoing in my head.
KILL AS MANY AS YOU CAN.
HIDE.
DON’T GO TO SHELTERS. MOST OF THEM ARE TRAPS.
HIDE UNTIL IT’S OVER. IT WILL BE OVER.
I had to find David, then we’d go hide.
I hurried back into my room. I had a newfound determined state of mind that I never thought I’d be capable of having. I went into my closet and strapped on my toughest boots-- a pair of combat boots I had bought at a thrift store. I stuffed all my saved cash, which was $1,000 in 100-dollar bills, on my person. I stuffed a few hundreds in my socks, some in my bra, some in my back pocket. I also grabbed the little jewelry I owned that I thought would be of any value and put it in my front pockets. I pulled my waist-length hair up into a tight bun.
Then I took a deep breath.
It was time to go see what was outside.
I grabbed the knob of the front door, which made the whole thing come off its hinges and fall loudly, making me squeal and jump back in terror. Most of the confidence I had gathered in my closet quickly fluttered away. Maybe the man had misjudged my courage…
I peered outside my door. The damage was staggering. Whatever had hit the apartment complex had the strength of an earthquake. Chunks of buildings were missing, collapsed in on themselves. The small trees decorating the walkways had mostly fallen over. I could smell smoke. No doubt some buildings had caught fire.
I made it down the steps hesitantly, clutching the rifle on my shoulder. I figured there was no need to go around pointing a gun in this confusion. Besides, I saw no one around.
I walked down the sidewalk, surveying the damage and wondering where David could have gone. Did he get called into work? Was he out shopping? If so, how far had he gone? I stifled a cry when my eyes spotted one of our cats laying on some bushes. He had a sleep-like calm in death that he had never shown in his playful life. His little eyes were closed and he showed no sign of damage in his soft white fur. I liked to think his end was quick, and as painless as it looked. I also hoped that our black cat hadn’t met a similar fate.
I continued to walk between the buildings until I could see the main road. There, a small group of people marched towards the office building. A couple of strong-looking men led them, confident but with no doubt fear in their eyes. Following them was a Mexican family of four, a hysterical woman clutching a baby and spouting out prayers, and what looked to be a couple more families, and some lost teenagers. I scanned every face, looking for my best friend, but he wasn’t among them. They were all in my situation, it seemed: confused, at a loss, missing people and possibly hurting. So I decided to join them.
“Hey! Excuse me! Were are ya’ll going?” I called out from where I stood.
The entire group turned to look at me. Even the woman carrying the baby was quiet as she stared. I’ve never been great with social graces, but in this instance I never even stopped to think of what I would look like to them:
A 5’9” girl, 125 lbs, with pale skin. Wearing a tank top, cargo pants, combat boots… and a semi-automatic on her bare shoulder.
One of the big men who led the group made his way towards me.
“Who are you?” he asked in a non-threatening voice. Certainly the girl-to-gun ratio was confusing him, but definitely not scaring him at all.
“I…I live here. I’m looking for my roommate, David. Uh…where are ya’ll going?”
The man stopped only a couple of feet away from me and studied my face. He looked at the rifle, then back at me. “Where’d you get that?” He asked me, low enough so that only I could hear.
So I looked him in the eye, and answered low enough so that only he could hear, “From a dead soldier.”
He paused, then said, “Ok. C’mon. We’re headed to the office to figure out what we’re gonna be doing for shelter until help arrives.”
“What makes you think help is coming?” I asked, instantly wishing I had quite literally bitten my tongue.
He looked back at me suspiciously. I was not making the best first impression.
“Someone will come, honey. Don’t you worry.” He put his huge arm around my shoulder and guided me to the rest of the group. He dismissed my outburst as fear and pessimism, and I kept the information the soldier had given me to myself.
I walked the rest of the way with them, glad that it was only a short walk…’cause after my big entrance, that damn woman with the baby wouldn’t shut up!
After we broke into the apartment leasing office, we all assembled ourselves town-meeting style. The more capable men formed at the front, while the women who had children tended to them at the back. I purposely stayed as far away from the rest as I could. I had caught the men, and two of the teenagers, eyeing my weapon with coveting eyes. I stood up tall and hung on to the strap, showing as best as I could that I had no intention of parting with it voluntarily.
“We can all fit here comfortably for tonight”, the man that had approached me spoke, “It’s already six o’clock in the afternoon. It’s been five hours since the incident, so word is probably out. Rescue is just trying to figure out how to get to us.”
Five hours?? Whatever happened must’ve knocked me out for that long. Dread started bubbling up inside my stomach. That also meant that David had been missing for a lot longer than I thought.
“Now, could all the women please find some sleeping space and get situated, while we figure out where to bring food and water from, and search for more survivors while there‘s still some sunlight out.”
“Excuse me…” I spoke up from the back, stupidly raising my hand, “But…what happened??”
“There’s no time for that”, the man dismissed me as he was already heading out the door, “You ladies please get as comfortable as you can. We’ll be back shortly.”
The two strong men left, along with the father of the Mexican family (much to his wife’s opposition), a smaller man who looked like an accountant, and two teenage boys (who both looked back at me and my rifle and whispered to each other as they left). I stood there uneasily, already wanting to run back to my apartment. But there was nothing to run back to. David was missing, and the building was most likely about to collapse. I almost jumped out of my skin when I felt a cold hand brush my arm.
“You sleep here?” It was the Mexican woman, asking me if I wanted to sleep on the floor where I stood. She held out a rolled up baby blanket for me to use as a pillow.
“Yes. Thank you.”
I sat and hugged the blanket, which smelled like baby powder. The Mexican woman offered a blanket to the woman with the baby, who was considerably calmer now. For the first time since that woman had stopped her horrid screaming and praying, I realized that her infant had been unusually quiet. My heart broke apart when I came to understand she had been clutching her dead child. No one had the heart to make her part with it yet.