Curtain Fall: Second Edition, Disaster, Preparedness, Survival, Awakening (The Gatekeeper Book 1) (33 page)

When the storm wall reached the edge of the crack, the multitude fell to a hushed silence. For a moment the wall seemed to pause, as if waiting for permission to continue, but then suddenly it dropped into and filled the entire crack. John was speechless, unsure of what to say about the scene he just witnessed.

Taking his hand, Eli walked John to the edge of the crack and said, “So begins the end.”

The crack was completely filled with what looked to John like ash. And beyond the crack, as far as his eye could see, and where the storm had recently passed, there was complete and utter destruction. Nothing lived in the wake of the storm. Then, in a blink of an eye, several feet of ash covered the ground and everything around them. Everything was covered in gray ash except for a small circle of green at his and Eli’s feet.

The buildings in town were buried under ash, or crushed flat by its weight. Destroyed and unsupported sections of wall poked up through
the ash like rotting teeth from some long dead, gigantic, rotting war beast. Even the air was dead, scorched dry by the lingering ash that remained floating around them. All the low places were filled, leveling the landscape in a blanket of gray, and choking the once fresh and vibrant water courses with flowing mud.

The grand and once majestic oak tree was stripped bare of its leaves. With its raw and pale flesh laid bare by the loss of both bark and limb, it looked forsaken. The tree now resembled something seen in a horror film, little more than a skeletal reflection of death itself.

John, overcome by the sudden and drastic change around him, moaned aloud, “Is there no hope for us?”

“All is well,” answered Eli. “You, and others like you, will survive. You will endure, and emerge to reestablish balance.”

After taking John’s hand again, Eli turned him around and pointed. In the distance, John saw what looked like the Fort Worth skyline. The tall buildings looked similar to those of the familiar downtown, but they were broken and damaged. He couldn’t tell from the great distance, but it looked to John like the city was completely free of ash. It was also without electrical power, or any other kind of fuel driven activity.

The tall lifeless forms of concrete, steel, and glass stood empty and forgotten, save for their monumental size. John realized he was looking at a post-disaster scene, only he had no idea how long after the disaster it was.

Suddenly his focus sharpened, and he could see into the distance more clearly, as if looking through a pair of binoculars. There was activity in the fields and other open spaces in and around the city. John was surprised to see the people moving around peacefully, as if their lives were safe and normal, routine even.

John saw a large open-air market filled with a variety of vendors selling and trading food and merchandise. Hundreds of customers shopped, bartered for supplies, or ate from food wagons and tents setup around the market. Livestock of all varieties were corralled or penned off to the
side. Nearby, a cattle auction was underway. Heifers were being passed through a gated chute and into a small arena where people signaled their interest with the raise of a hand.

Small groups of three or four men each could be seen on horseback patrolling the outer perimeter of the market area. John also saw a company of at least thirty armed men, but they looked casual and relaxed, as if they were expecting no trouble.

The entire scene reminded John a little of a county fair mixed with a renaissance fair. He was thrilled and excited to think such a life could emerge out of so much destruction. And without taking his eyes off the fair, John asked, “How long after the disaster is this scene?”

Eli didn’t reply. Instead, he smiled and handed John a large apple. John took the apple, and without hesitating, he bit into it deeply. The apple was sweet and delicious to the taste. It filled him with immense happiness and joy, and he wanted to share the apple with his family.

John turned and saw Jenna standing next to him, and next to her stood Adam and Abby.

John handed Jenna the apple, and like John, she bit into it without delay and smiled. Adam responded in kind when Jenna handed him the apple, but when he handed it to Abby, the apple fell from her hands into the ash.

John bent to retrieve the apple from the ash because he really wanted Abby to eat from it, to feel the happiness he drew from it, but when he picked it up he saw that it was rotten. He tossed it aside in disgust and saw surprise and concern on Abby’s face. John turned to Eli for another apple, but Eli was gone. He spun back around to see Jenna and the kids gone.

Confused and frustrated, John dropped to his knees and buried his face in his hands. The disaster, the destruction, his family, everything about the dream seemed to elevate his emotions to a new level. It was as if his every nerve was raw and exposed, his heart broken, his mind filled with splinters of glass. Feeling overwhelmed by the emotions that filled him, John began to sob and rock back and forth as he covered his face with his hands.

The rocking motion began to increase as if the earth itself was sobbing with him. John extended his arms to balance himself and heard a voice. The voice was low and distant, but he knew the source of it. Jenna was telling him to wake up.

“John,” whispered Jenna, as she held his shoulders firmly but rocked him gently. He was lying face down, his hands covering his face as he moaned. “Wake up, honey. You’re upset. Wake up.”

“Huh? What? OK . . . I’m OK,” replied John, as he rolled over and looked up at the ceiling. He wiped his eyes with his hands and was surprised to feel wetness.
“My tears carried over,”
thought John,
“but the emotions, did they stay behind?”
The weight of the experience was undeniable, the enormity of it palpable.
“What’s happening to me?”

“Are you sure you’re OK?” asked Jenna, clearly concerned.

“Yes. I’m fine. Let me think for a minute and I’ll tell you what happened,” replied John.

“Was it another dream?” asked Jenna.

John nodded, and when he realized Jenna couldn’t see his head move in the dark, he said, “I’m sorry. I hope I didn’t scare you. It was a dream, but different than before. Different in content, but also in emotion. I’ve never experienced something like that before. Something’s happening to me.”

“What do you mean . . . something’s happening to you?” asked Jenna.

“I don’t know, just that I’ve had such dreams every night since I learned about the disaster. The little boy was back. I think he’s trying to prepare me for something,” said John with a sigh, “but I don’t know what.”

Jenna returned to her pillow and was silent for a moment before saying, “Do you want to tell me about it?”

“I do, but I have as many questions as you’ll probably have,” said John. “But before I do, I want to tell you about the little boy . . . his name is Eli, and he’s . . . he’s . . .”

“He’s what, John?”

“Well . . . he’s Adam’s son. Or at least he says he’s Adam’s son,” said John.

Jenna was silent for another moment before saying, “Your . . . I mean . . . our grandson?”

“Yeah,” replied John, and he began to share an account of the vision with Jenna.

John provided as much detail as he could, leaving nothing out, and when he finished, Jenna asked, “What does it all mean, John?”

“I don’t know, babe. I really don’t know. But I know one thing . . . we’re gonna survive.”

Later that morning, while John and Adam were in the kitchen discussing the priority of work for the day, a long and low rumble vibrated up through the floor and lightly rattled the glasses in the cupboard.

“Did you feel that?” asked Adam.

“I did,” replied John.

“Was it an earthquake?”

Despite living in Texas, where they were pretty much unheard of, John was no stranger to earthquakes. He once lived in two earthquake prone areas, California and Japan, and had experienced many different types of quakes, of both the jolting P-wave quakes, and the undulating S-wave variety.

Though most people were familiar with the hard hitting shockers, John was also familiar with the rolling type quakes that tended to make him feel a little nauseous. But the energy that just shook their house was more like the hard hitting kind, like a release deep underground.

As for tremors from explosions, John had experience with them as well. When he first arrived in Baghdad, Iraqi insurgents detonated a five-hundred pound car bomb near the perimeter of their Forward Operating Base. The explosion started fires, broke windows, and sent shrapnel and other bits of flying debris into the FOB, but it was the bomb’s tremor and shockwave that most impressed John. It was hard and sharp, like a hammer blow.

John remembered running to the perimeter with his rifle to repel potential invaders, but the heavy concrete walls withstood the blast. Most of the bomb’s energy was either absorbed or redirected by the outer layer of concrete stand-off barriers.

“Well, it wasn’t an explosion,” said John.

“Really?” replied Adam, excited at the potential to hear another of his dad’s war stories.

John recognized his son’s interest, but he wasn’t in the mood to reminisce. He looked at Adam and said, “If it was an earthquake, then it was a weak one.”

John stepped into the adjoining open family room and grabbed the television remote off the ottoman. He managed to say, “Let’s see what the news has to say,” just as the second earthquake began to shake their house.

The quake wasn’t enough to make him lose his balance, but it was long and powerful, at least a 5.0 or 6.0 by his reckoning. John waited a moment to see if it would pass, and when it didn’t let up, he yelled to Adam, “Go get your sister and meet us out front.”

Adam darted out the kitchen and was already up the stairs when John reached the entryway. He heard him yelling for Abby as he reached the master bedroom. When John rounded the corner, he saw Jenna leaving the bathroom. She was wrapped in two towels, one around her head, and the other her body, and John said, “Honey, grab your robe and let’s go . . . you don’t have time to dress!”

Jenna grabbed a robe off the door as she passed, and they ran together out the open front door and onto the lawn to join Adam and Abby. John looked at them to gauge their resolve, and seeing their calm and collected demeanor, turned to look at the house.

The ground stopped shaking and Abby asked, “Can we go back in now, daddy?”

“Not yet, baby,” replied John. “Let’s wait a little longer. Are you OK?”

“I’m fine, daddy. Just scared. I don’t like earthquakes,” replied Abby as she hugged Jenna.

“Who does?” snapped Adam.

“Adam, be nice,” barked Jenna, before turning her eye on John, trying to read through his calm and stoic façade.

John smiled and winked at her. He knew better than to reveal himself in front of his children, but he knew Jenna could read him. John believed a good military commander never revealed his fears or doubts in front of his troops, his executive officer maybe, and his first sergeant, but never his troops. And as far as he was concerned, being a father was a lot like being a military commander.

He knew better than to express his fears and concerns outwardly, to transfer those feelings to his children, so he calmly waited for the earth to stop shaking, and when it did he said, “Good job clearing the house, everyone.”

“Is it over, dad?” asked Adam, as he looked around the neighborhood.

Car alarms were going off in the distance, but other than that, there was little sign the earth had shook for almost two minutes. John wanted to inspect the house, but he had a feeling the shaking wasn’t over. He looked at Adam and said, “I don’t think it’s over yet. That was a long one, so I’m guessing there’ll be more . . . as aftershocks. I think we should . . .”

The earth started shaking again, but this time the movement was enough to make them take small steps to maintain their footing. “Let’s sit down. Everyone take a seat on the lawn,” said John, and he was the first to sit.

The family followed John’s lead and sat in a circle on the grass next to the front walkway. As the earth tremored under them, they calmly watched the trees and light poles shake. The glass screen of one streetlight dropped open, but it didn’t fall to the ground. Adam pointed to it and said, “Look!” But everyone was distracted by their own observations.

The moans of the earth, coupled with cracking timber, blaring car alarms, and howling dogs, filled John’s senses to near overload. He struggled to remain focus on the safety of his family as pressure waves from the earthquake passed around and through his body. He saw the concern on their faces, and turned to watch the house, hoping beyond
hope that it would endure the quake and not collapse on everything they needed inside.

John heard the sound of breaking glass, but he was more concerned about the structural integrity of his home than a few damaged windows. He watched the front wall carefully for signs of coming collapse, but he remained hopeful that they would hold up to the tremors. He didn’t know how much more his home could endure, but he was helpless to do anything but watch. Never before had he considered losing his house to an earthquake; a tornado or fire maybe, but never an earthquake, at least not in Texas.