Rebirth - 5/26

It was like the quake yesterday had been a repeat of The Big One from my perspective. In reality, it was relatively small, with just enough destructive power to drop the already partially destroyed building next to the shelter onto the roof. Our shelter had done its job, breaking the building's fall to start, but eventually gave way and collapsed inward.

According to Rachel, she had woken up at the start and moved just before the building's initial impact, which had crushed poor Lan. A fact later confirmed by Tony and Marcos. My ordeal had started soon after, and continued as the building above me sagged before finally giving in. Technically, the store was still partially standing this morning. Just not where I had been sleeping.

After finding me on the street, Marcos and Alex cleaned and bandaged my wounds with makeshift medical supplies. Alex asked me more medical questions than I think I had been asked the entire time within the tent. By comparison, Marcos didn’t say a single word the whole time.

While I was being cared for once more, Tony and Annitta took charge of the temporarily allied groups and set up a camp for the night in the middle of the street. They had left their sleeping gear in the building and were unable to recover it. All the supplies we had left were damp and cold from the lingering rainwater, causing my body to match the numb atmosphere that loomed amongst us.

Sleep eludes me as usual. I watch as the others twist and turn in their sleep as well, fighting the discomfort of our situation while illuminated by an eerie moonlight. By morning, I know I will miss the cold acting as a body-wide ice pack, as my body begins to wither with the addition of the new wounds.

Sunlight soon began to kiss the clouds, announcing its arrival just before it breaches the horizon.

I felt alive.

More alive than I had ever been, spurred on by the still-burning fire birthed from the maw of despair the day before. Sunrise brought with it small tears that rolled down the desert of skin I called my face, dragging along with them the crust that had formed during yesterday’s events.

In the last week, I had cried countless times to myself. Tears spurred by regrets and woes as to what my life had become. Tears as I tried to sleep through the haunting silence. Tears as I raged against those who wasted their lives for me, and now, for the first time, tears of joy.

I thought of Lan, imagining his silent expressions amongst those who walked the shadows around me. He wanted to live, too, but couldn’t. I would never hear his voice in my dreams, much as I hadn’t in life.

Unlike Julie, there was nothing I could have done for him. He has no reason to haunt me. Still, I imagine him there now, joining those from the tent we had lost well before I knew their names, all watching me as I continued forward. Now, I will have to live for him as well. I’d have to live for all of them.

Along with the sun, some of the others began to rise and go about their morning, doing their best to find comfort despite the dismal conditions. Alex and the crew began to cook breakfast on their stove, which they luckily had brought with them on their trip the day before. Marcos was up but silent, sitting and watching the sun rise, while Rachel and the coma girl slept curled up together on the opposite side of our makeshift camp on whatever comfortable material everyone had been able to find.

“Eat,” Alex demands quietly, showing me a bowl of the same soup we had eaten when we first met.

It wasn’t a breakfast food in my book, but it would suffice given the situation. I've had far worse recently. After a couple of spoonfuls, the ravenous hunger of missing meals most of the day before began to surface. After finishing the bowl, I was still not fully satisfied.

But alive.

“Thanks,” I say to him, not knowing if I should add anything else when talking to the strange man.

“Let me check your wraps. Say if it hurts, but keep it down while those other two sleep,” Alex replies.

“Tony, doing ok?” I ask, remembering that I had seen Alex bandaging the huge man the night previously after they returned from checking the collapsed shelter.

“Banged his arm moving some rubble, is all, he will be fine.”

“Anyone else hurt?” I continue. For once, I wanted to know for their sake, not my own.

“Rachel seems to be in shock, but what’s new. Took her forever to tell us what happened. Other girl seems to comfort her well enough.”

“Good,” I respond, then quietly sit as Alex checks me for fresh blood and cleans what he can.

Half of my body was covered in abrasions from pulling myself along. Fortunately, my shirt had taken some of the blows, turning into a rag as it did. Whoever collected this thing would be crying if they saw it now. My feet fared the best, the shards of glass embedded in the plastic not piercing enough to reach my skin. I reminded myself to thank Marcos for finding me these.

My legs, on the contrary, were nasty-looking. If I could have walked before, I definitely couldn’t now. They remind me of Josh’s fully bandaged legs now. Even they fared better than my right hand. Whatever damage had been done, it was severe enough that I could almost feel nothing while he worked on it yesterday. I had been lucky that the bleeding from my right hand slowed before he determined a tourniquet was going to be necessary. Marcos had poured clean water into the wound on my palm and shoved it full of makeshift gauze before wrapping me up tightly.

Alex works on everything else but that hand, leaving it for last.

“You need to get to a real doctor soon,” he says as he starts to finally unwrap it.

“Don’t have insurance,” I joke back, wincing as the bloody fabric tugged the skin, ooze gluing everything together.

He doesn’t respond, but continues working, pausing when I wince and while assuring me that I am not about to die from it. The thought had crossed my mind originally when Marcos’ eyes first saw the cut, his green irises disappearing as his pupils swelled to the size of dinner plates. Once the bleeding had slowed, however, the worry subsided and was replaced with a quiet optimism I dared not speak about.

“Has he said much to you?” I ask Alex, nodding my head toward the silent Marcos while trying not to jostle my hand in the process.

“A little. He was all business when we…” he paused for a second as if deciding what to say, then continued, “Well, when we were searching for Lan. After that, he hasn’t said much.”

“Wasn’t his fault it fell when he was away.”

“I think he feels it’s his fault y’all were in there to start with.”

“Not like he had much of a choice.”

“Doesn’t matter sometimes,” Alex finishes.

I understand how he is feeling. Marcos doesn’t deserve to be blamed at all, not like I do, but I at least understood the hollow feeling it brings. Alex finishes cleaning and re-wrapping my hand, tossing the used bandages into the street next to me.

“Either way, you at least got a lot to thank that man for,” he says as he stretches, cracking his back a little as he does.

“I know, he’s kept me alive so far. I can’t even imagine how I can repay him.”

“You repaid him a little yesterday already.”

“I… I repaid him?” I ask, perplexed.

“By being alive.”

“Doesn’t seem like enough…” I say, looking down at my damaged body. He had done so much for me that even with multiple lifetimes, I would still be in his debt.

“Definitely isn’t, but it’s best you can do right now.”

“I even owe you at this point,” I add. It felt wrong to ignore the fact that Alex was being helpful, even after the rumors and the hostage situation. Maybe he is a bad guy at heart, but at least he has one.

“When you got somethin’ I want, I’ll call in your debts,” he says with his signature smirk. Something about the way he says this sends shivers down my spine. I do my best to brush it off.

Everyone else is now awake and huddled in the street, attempting to dry out their clothes by the stove, counting their remaining supplies, and slowly coming back to life after another harrowing day.

“Aight, listen up,” Alex starts, addressing the group. “Plans happenin’ same as we agreed last night.”

I hadn’t been informed of a plan by anyone, which probably meant I wasn’t included. Alex turns to address me, pointing to a piece of equipment I had yet to notice nearby.

A dolly with a chair strapped onto it.

“Marcos and you both owe me for this crap.”