Tremors - 5/15

A man across the street makes eye contact with me before silently leaping to his death, his body tumbling quickly out of view.

What would it feel like to jump?

That is all I can think of as I look out at the cityscape below me, my eyes straining to adjust to the brightness. The last time I saw the sun was when I put up my blackout curtains, seemingly a lifetime ago. Yet here it was, glaring unwelcomingly into what was left of my apartment. Warm currents of smoke enter along with the sunlight, carrying the acrid hints of the unpleasant scenes happening just too far away to make out.

Scattered beneath me are the skeletons of the buildings I once saw, before covering my windows forever, their blinding neon logos lost to the abyss of dust below me, spreading in what seemed like slow motion across the streets below. Ant-like people scatter away from their homes through the ever-present deadlock traffic. Before this, I had only seen carnage on this scale in disaster videos that circulated the internet.

I stand before the collapsed wall, the void calling out to me, pulling me inch by inch toward the abyss.

It would just be easier.

Peaceful even.

I slide my foot forward slightly while clinging to my bed frame. Wind rushes in, drowning out any sound from below, preventing me from hearing whatever horrors might be emanating.

Jump.

I could just join them. A single step off the edge of this improvised balcony, and that would be all. Another life lost, simply a number among the ever-growing toll of the recent earthquakes. If what I lived could even be considered a life.

Before I can make a decision, I am shaken out of it by a voice yelling from the hallway behind me. I slowly turn from the scene, wrenching myself back to my once-dim apartment. I’d known this day would come since they condemned the building, trying desperately to get us to move out ‘For our own good’.

They would never understand how I felt in here, the safety this room held. For the last few years, this was my entire world. It felt like only yesterday I had purchased that new couch, even if the stains told a different story. My computer only turned off when a vital update forced it to, or when the stray power outage lasted longer than the backup battery. Sure, my fridge was nearly empty despite what the bags of trash nearby would have you think, but all of it was my home.

Why would I want to leave?

Another large fit of the building shaking, followed by the increase in screaming outside my door, answered the question. Staying meant death. Even with my thoughts of jumping, there was something inside me still clinging on since the first tremor, something that had kept me from full-blown sprinting out of my thirty-fourth-level apartment.

Fear? The will to live?

I didn’t know, nor did I have time to think about it, as my initial daze began to wear off.

Run.

As quickly as I can, I throw on a hoodie, grab a mask, and yank on my only pair of foot protection.

A pair of green Crocs. I’m not sure they even count as shoes, but they are better than stepping on broken glass.

The urgency I had glimpsed from the people below suddenly envelops me. Throwing open the door, I dash to the left and into the hallway. Unlike my apartment, the hallway had not suffered enough damage for sunlight to make its way inside, and the emergency lighting was barely hanging on, making it nearly impossible to see through the dust that was starting to fill the air. It was one of the few times that living in the dark as a shut-in may come in handy.

Hugging the wall with my left side, I clamour past door frame after door frame, feeling my way however I can toward the elevator. It probably wouldn’t work, but the stairs had to be somewhere nearby.

Probably should have used those more.

I continued until I reached whoever was screaming nearby, just in time for my head to slam into something solid in front of me. My eyes instantly well with pain, blurring most of my already diminished field of view.

The person cries out something unintelligible in what can only be described as a squeal of desperation. I don’t know what to say to them. I hadn’t spoken to anyone in a couple of months.

Just. RUN!

Panic quickly began to take over my impact-riddled brain. I try to regain my bearings against the wall, choking through the numerous carcinogens that slip past my mask as my lungs start to beg for better air. The hands of whoever I hear screaming slam onto my right side, pushing me against the wall as they fight their own battle against their senses. They yell something else that is lost to me in the struggle.

Let me go. I think, still unable to voice the words even if I wanted to. My labored breathing was the only response I gave.

I break free, and my escape continues as I struggle toward the end of the hall. The yelling is drowned out by my heart beating through every inch of my skull, threatening to explode as I run

One door frame at a time.

Finally, my hands meet the metallic smoothness of the elevator doors. I run my hand along the gap between the two elevators, fumbling for the button.

It’s not there. Somehow, the button is nowhere to be found.

It feels like forever as I stand there, another violent shaking throwing me back and away from the elevator doors. There is no button. I rack my brain. My heart is drowning out my thoughts, just as it was the screams.

Can’t use the elevator. Run. Stairs.

Oh yeah, the stairs. How had I forgotten again?

Searching the area past the elevator, I eventually find what I am looking for despite barely being able to see my own hands.

A crash bar.

I slam into it with all the strength I can muster. I fall with it as it swings open with ease, revealing my only possible route to salvation.

Only seven hundred and fourteen stairs stood between me and the exit of the building.

Without being able to see, I get down on butt and start searching for the top stair with my foot, inching forward as I do.

My body kicks into autopilot as I locate the top stair. My hand shoots up to the smooth railing, finding just enough purchase to drag myself to my feet.

One foot down. Then the next. It was a snail's pace compared to my thoughts, but my body ceased responding.

Run.

It wouldn’t, carefully placing my foot further down.

Another shake. My eyes close as I instinctively cling to the rail, hoping that the building will hold just for one more day. Even one more hour.

It subsides, but silent blackness greets me as I open my eyes.

I’m dead.

No, not dead, the lights just broke. It has to be. What is left of my rational mind won’t accept it.

My feet continue without me, searching briefly for the next flight as I turn along the rail. Just a little more. Another step. I’d get out and find a safe apartment. Heck, I’ll even talk to people. Whatever I need to promise to get out of here.

It feels like forever as I travel down the stairs, no sign of progress outside of my body screaming in pain from running. There can only be a couple more flights left.

I’m going to make it.

A scream rips through the air as yet another quake hits. I can’t place it at first, but I can’t place myself either. The floor beneath me is gone temporarily, along with the rail. My hands flail for purchase, but the rest of my body seems to be finding it first.

Rolling, slamming, I tumble down the stairs, my terrified scream accompanying the thuds of my body hitting solid objects as I go. It happens so quickly.

The last thought I have as my head slams against the wall, and darkness takes me. 

Should have just jumped.