Liam Hall
Tuesday, March 22nd, 2022 (The day of the Shutdown)
Snatching David’s car keys before he could protest, he pressed the button. There was no response.
Repeatedly clicking it, he feverishly turned to David.
“Open the car,” he said, his voice little more than a whisper.
“You have the key—”
Liam slammed his fist on the hood.
“FUCKING OPEN IT!” he roared, his fear taking hold of him. “OPEN THE FUCKING CAR DAVID!”
“Liam,” Carter whispered.
“What?!” Liam snapped, whirling on the carrot top.
“The kid’s mother. You just gonna just gonna leave her?”
The child’s eyes were as large as orbs as he quietly stared at Liam, its glistening tears holding the burden of the world as they waited to see what he would do.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, running away without saying another word.
For half a second, he faltered wondering if David and Carter would stop him but fear bit at his ankles like a rabid dog.
His legs pumped against the pavement, propelling him forward. Out of the side of his eye, he could tell that the streetlights still hadn’t turned on. Stalled cars blocked the streets and the confused owners were standing by the side of the road, marveling at the sight above them.
It was a world in which time had slowed.
Exiting the suburbs and entering the city, Liam witnessed more scenes of chaos. The streets were clogged with cars and screaming pedestrians rushing away from the plane crash.
Fires had broken out in a few of the local stores and residences. Even if they were still working, there was no possibility of the firetrucks reaching the buildings in the traffic. Escaping outside, the owners gaped as their livelihoods went up in flames.
Cutting through the oncoming wave of people, he looked up at one of the buildings on his left. The brick store was ablaze, forks of the flames licking the air greedily, threatening to consume the neighboring buildings.
As he passed by it, a part of the roof caved in and smothered the surrounding area with its intensity.
His vision started to tunnel, his pace matching the rhythm of his heartbeat.
Faster. FASTER.
Breaking away from the stream of people, he entered a small alleyway and ripped off his mask. The cries of people and the sound of glass shattering faded away as he cut across the city, using alleyways and tunnels, one after another as he tried to make his way to his neighborhood on the other side.
Whenever he was lost, all he had to do was look up at the sky and use the plume of smoke as a beacon.
Cutting onto Laurier Avenue, skyscrapers lined both sides of the main street, overshadowing the street below. Sweating in exertion, his lungs began to burn up as he pushed himself to his physical limit.
A bit further, a bit further.
After another 10 minutes, he broke out of the city and reached the entrance of Half-Moon Bay. Pushing to the crowd that gathered to get a glimpse of the destruction, he flinched at the road that passed in front of the walled community.
An impromptu field hospital had been set up to tend to the injured. The screams of patients filled the air, their silence was brought about when their wounds claimed them. Many of the injured faces were contorted and warped by the pain that racked their body. Still, none were familiar.
They aren’t here, he realized, a wave of relief flowing through him. They might be safe.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
“Can I help you?” a solemn voice asked from behind him.
He wheeled around to see a stranger approach him with a clipboard.
“I-I… uhh…” he stuttered, taking another glance to check if he’d missed their faces by chance. “I… uhh… live here. I wanted to see if my parents were here.”
“And are you sure for a fact that they weren’t out shopping or anywhere outside of Half-Moon Bay?”
“T-They might’ve been. I d-don’t know.”
“Alright, calm down for a second, young man. I’m just going to check. Which street is your house on?” he asked, flipping through the sheets on the clipboard.
“17 Danforth Crescent.”
Catching sight of Liam staring at the board, he explained, “Volunteers have been helping clear some of the streets. I’m just going to check if we…”
His face grew weary like he’d been tired of delivering the news. “We haven’t yet cleared that street.”
Liam pushed past him and ran towards the entrance.
“Wait! We can’t have people blindly charging in!” he yelled from the ground, having fallen backward.
Please. God, please let them be alright.
The knot in his stomach twisted as he braced himself for what was to come.
The closer he got to the epicenter of the crash, the clearer the signs of damage were. Debris from the plane had detached during its plummet and crashed into unsuspecting houses. Liam continued running, his hopes slowly rising. After the first few, he hadn’t seen any other signs of the wreckage this far east.
Turning the corner onto Danforth Crescent, that all faded away. A wing had broken off from the plane, leveling the first few houses in the street. The fire it had brought with it now burned out the rest of the buildings.
“13… 15…” he murmured as he counted up to his house. No… no, no, no…
17 Danforth Crescent was wreathed in flames.
His body froze, seeing the beat-up family truck stuck in the driveway. Wearing only a shirt, he battered the front door until it gave way. Already weakened by the fire it crashed onto the floor sending a cloud of hot ash scattering into the hall.
“MOM! DAD!” he hollered, running in.
The flames had spread past the living room and dining area, reaching the kitchen. Pulling his clothes over his head to protect himself from the fire, the sweat on him instantly evaporated.
He continued to yell his parents' names, pleading with them to reply. Yet all he heard was the crackling of the fire as another part of the ceiling crumbled.
The fire brushed against him, the pain causing him to grit his teeth. Endure it.
As he was about to lose hope, a moan, barely audible through the roaring of the fire caused him to spin around. The kitchen! The ferocity of the flames at the entrance leaped out at him, forcing him back. Jumping over them, he entered the room and found his mother struggling to remove a fallen beam.
“Mom, what are you doing?! We have to go now!” he screamed, trying to pull her away.
“No! Your father… h-he’s stuck. We have to help him!” she cried, tears streaming down her cheeks.
Liam looked over at the unrecognizable body on the floor. A wooden beam had crushed his father’s head, and the blood that flowed from it bubbled in the heat.
“W-We’ll come back for him,” he promised, refusing to believe it.
Pulling her away, they stumbled through the inferno, ducking falling embers. Feet away from the front door, a large part of the roof came crashing down, blocking off their escape. Fissure lines spread above them as the integrity of the house deteriorated.
We won’t make it.
Hearing the cracking of timber, his eyes flicked up in time to notice a crack opening up above his mother. Knocking her backward in the nick of time, the cinders spread across his back and arms, degenerating his mind to a spark of consciousness.
“T-The back.” Her words were interrupted by a fit of coughs.
Hearing her voice, he pulled himself back to reality. Screaming as he struggled out from under the blazing debris, they began limping to the back. His mother was becoming increasingly sluggish.
Scooping her off her feet, he made it outside and set her down on the pavement. He was acutely aware of his situation but none of that mattered.
His mother’s chest wasn’t moving.
“No… no, no, no! Mom!” he cried, tears streaming down his face. “FUCK!”
Starting chest compression, a tumultuous mixture of anger and sorrow boiled within him. Please. Please. Please. Please, he kept repeating to himself. Anything but her. Not her as well, please.
His burns were sapping his strength.
Jamming his thumb into a burn wound to force himself awake, his body could no longer bear the searing pain. Fuck.
He collapsed beside her, his hand still on her chest trying to force out one last compression.
Her heartbeat faded away under his fingertips.
Blubbering for anything to help him, a black silhouette stepped out of the burning house, its forms wavering like a mirage. Kneeling next to Liam’s head, it considered him before standing up and smiling.
“Help…” Liam rasped, his voice contorting in his throat.
But he blinked and it was gone.
Come back, he pleaded.
Distant figures were running towards him, the heavy feet making the ground shake beneath him.
Oh.
“Found him! Bring the stretchers!” a familiar voice cried to the men behind him.
His mind went blank.