The Mayflower Project: Deconstruction Book Two (A Post-Apocalyptic Thriller) Page 2

  "What the hell was that? Brent asked as he chuckled and wrapped his arm around the blonde chick's waist. "Who cares," he continued. "Let's party!"

  Suddenly, the ground moved again and a loud rumble echoed over the music. With a crash, a crack split right down the middle of the ceiling and down the dance floor like a mirror image. The shelves behind the bar toppled over and gallons of top-shelf liquor spread across the ground like a tidal wave.

  The floor rolled up and down. Fissures split open across the tile and the building shook so violently I thought a train was passing on top of us. The rattling walls made it impossible for me to even think straight and I stood in place like they say possums do when they see headlights.

  The sounds of screams pushed me further into a state of drunken panic. Chunks of plaster and cement collided with human flesh, silencing forever those not quick enough to move. Metal beams snapped from the ceiling and showered the floor like arrows. Chaos spiraled all around me and I was too dazed to react until I heard someone shouting.

  "Earthquake!"

  CHAPTER 3

  AFTERSHOCK

  The air was cloudy and cluttered with dust flakes that threatened to blind me. My ears were ringing like someone had set off a fire alarm and the taste of blood settled at the back of my tongue.

  I stood there in shock, trying to orientate myself, trying to remember where I was...who I was. I struggled to hang onto to simple thoughts and I felt like I was floating through someone else's reality.

  I inhaled the soupy air and felt a sting in my throat. I started to cough so violently that I dropped to one knee and lunged forward. It was my luck that I'd survive the club imploding, only to die from breathing in some toxic material.

  Every breath I took was like swallowing sand. I could feel the air on my tongue as it entered my mouth. Thick debris floated everywhere, it was heavy enough to scoop into your hand like a snowball.

  With a deep, barreling grunt, I cleared my throat, straightened up then started to look around. All hell had broken loose inside of the club. The roof caved in and a thick, slab of concrete leaned against a pole that strained to hold its weight. The sky poured through the opening like a waterfall, but it only brought with it the sounds of sirens and more panic.

  Rubble was everywhere. Dirt-smudged arms poked out from the piles of smoldering brick, reaching for help that couldn't come fast enough. Wires and broken light fixtures dangled from the ceiling, sending sparks and rancid smoke into the air. It was a nightmare, a nightmare that had no end when I awoke.

  Wiping my face, I stretched my jaw and shook my head to clear it. A piercing scream suddenly broke through the clutter and I whipped around. It was answered by another and then shouts of pain and heartbreak joined in like the opening of some morbid orchestra.

  "Cindy!" I shouted. "Cindy!"

  My mind was slowly returning and along with it came a sharp pain in the back of my head. I brushed my hand through my hair and felt the warm trickle of blood, but that didn't matter now, I needed to find Cindy.

  The area we were sitting in was demolished. The couches in the VIP area were covered by a mound of plaster and metal framing. There was nothing left, but destruction.

  I felt my heart stop and a sharp pain ripped through my abdomen. I keeled over and gasped, praying that she'd moved. She must've moved, there was no way she was under that.

  "She's okay," I mumbled to myself and stepped over a massive chunk of concrete.

  Trembling, I moved closer and closer to the debris. Each moment I feared I'd see her lifeless face covered in dust. Each moment I feared I'd become the orchestrator to the collapse of my own world.

  Large chunks of drywall and concrete rested against one another. But she could be alive, she could be alive somewhere under there and she needed my help. I moved some of the twisted, metal beams and started to dig my way through the pile.

  "Max," I heard a soft voice call.

  "Cindy? Cindy! I'm coming!" I yelled.

  Like a madman I started to toss the rubble aside. Jagged shards of beams ripped into my skin, but I didn't feel it. Cindy was somewhere under there and that's all that mattered.

  "Max," she called again.

  "I'm coming Cindy! Hang on!"

  "Max," another voice called, a deeper voice. "Max!"

  I felt a hand on my shoulder and I whirled around. Brent was standing behind me with wild eyes. Jake and Cindy were right behind him, glaring at me in shock.

  I swallowed then took a deep breath. Cindy rushed toward me and jumped into my arms. I squeezed her and sucked in the smell of her hair, the smell I thought I'd lost forever. Right then I wanted to break down. It took all of me to hold it together.

  "I thought...I thought..." I couldn't finish the sentence.

  "It's okay," she said. "I'm fine."

  "We need to get out of here," Brent snapped. "This place is gonna fall apart."

  I grabbed Cindy's hand and started toward the door. A small crowd of people were slowly moving that way. They seemed as confused as we were. Others were kneeling on the ground crying over dead friends or lovers and even more were crushed under the rubble, either dead or dying.

  "What the hell happened?" Jake asked.

  He never got an answer. As we stepped outside the scene went from tragic to hopeless. The sidewalk rose up and down like roller coaster tracks. Across the street one of the buildings had completely fallen over and hundreds of injured and disorientated people stomped around aimlessly.

  A giant crevice had opened in the middle of the road. Blistering, steam rose from it and police were desperately trying to keep people from falling in. Intoxication, panic and holes didn't mix well.

  Sirens and flashing red and blue lights lit up the night sky. Emergency responders shouted and pointed in random directions, only adding to the confusion. The scene was complete pandemonium and we were right in the middle of it.

  "Jesus..." Brent mumbled.

  "Come on," I said and grabbed Cindy by the wrist.

  I led her down the part of the sidewalk that was still flat then crossed the street yards away from the gaping wound. We nudged our way through the crowd and made it to the far side where it was a little less congested.

  "Dude you're bleeding," Jake said as he reached out and grabbed my arm.

  "Yeah, something fell on me in there I guess. I don't remember, but I feel fine."

  Cindy rubbed her hand across the back of my head and I winced. She rubbed the blood between her fingers and frowned.

  "I'm fine. Seriously, I'm fine."

  "Whatever Rambo," Jake said, trying to lighten the mood. "Rub some dirt on it I guess."

  "We've got to get home," I sighed. "The longer we stay out here the harder it's gonna be."

  "Look!" Jake suddenly said and pointed back across the street.

  A tail of smoke plumed from the nightclub like a train. The outside walls were leaning from side to side as more of the ceiling gave. Then, with a loud clap, the walls collapsed and the building crumbled into a pile of smoldering rubble.

  Cindy let out a high-pitched groan. "People were still in there," she said. "We should've helped."

  "There was nothing we could've done," Jake replied. "We just would've died with them."

  Cindy winced at the thought, but didn't respond. We collectively sat in silence for a moment. Every one of us knew people that were in there, from the DJ to the bartenders and waitresses. We'd become regulars at that club and in the snap of a finger it was gone.

  I squeezed my right hand as my fingers started to shake. It was hard to rationalize what I was seeing, hard to control the flood of emotions ripping through my body. I’d almost died in there and as I looked around I still wasn’t in the clear.

  "I...I can't believe this," Cindy mumbled and pulled at her hair. "All of those people...they're, they're all dead."

  I stared at the remains for another minute, but felt like we'd lingered too long. I wanted to run, to get as far away from that place as I could. The
city wasn't safe, we weren't safe and we needed to get home.

  Before I could say a word the ground shook again. Cindy grabbed my arm to steady herself and I could see the terror in her eyes. I clenched my jaw and prepared myself for the worst.

  Luckily, it passed quickly and my heart slowed just a bit. My nerves were fried and the calm demeanor I kept trying to show Cindy was riddled with hairline fractures. But I needed to keep it together.

  "Just a tremor," I said.

  I'd lived in LA for a while and earthquakes weren't new to me, but one in Atlanta was beyond shocking. It was out of place and hinted at things much worse to come. I fought with myself about what it could really mean and tried to ignore the voice in my head that had already come to a bleak conclusion.

  "Just a tremor?" Jake screeched. "Just a tremor? I'm pretty sure I shit myself man."

  Cutting my eyes at him, I wrapped an arm around Cindy's shoulder and pulled her toward me. She was shaking and had a frazzled look on her face.

  "Hey," I whispered. "We're okay. I'm gonna get you home, alright?"

  She nodded and I started to walk her back down the sidewalk. Brent and Jake followed as we passed more dazed bar patrons and people from the surrounding buildings that had barely escaped with their lives.

  "Do you have a plan?" Brent asked.

  "What do you mean?"

  "We're walking toward midtown...I know you're not planning on taking the fucking underground train home."

  I stopped and slapped my palm to my forehead. "Shit! We're just gonna have to walk."

  "Dude that's like ten miles," Jake protested.

  "You got a better idea? All I know is I'm not staying around here."

  Jake chewed the inside of his gum for a minute and looked back toward the club. Police and fire-rescue workers were moving around like a swarm of ants. People were laid out in stretchers or in the middle of the road, groaning in pain. More people wandered around like zombies, blood dripping from wounds or bones jutting from their skin like spikes.

  He scratched his head and I could see the little wheels spinning. It was like his mind was a Rubik's cube and someone was twisting and cranking it around trying to get it just right. After an agonizing thirty seconds he finally tossed his hands into the air and grunted.

  "Fine, let's go," he replied.

  In a clouded daze we headed out. No one really spoke as the rush of adrenaline subsided and we found ourselves battling exhaustion and shock. My head was cluttered with nonsense and speculation, making rational thought nearly impossible. So, I just focused on walking, focused on putting one foot in front of the other.

  The further we walked the more normalcy returned. Not just how I felt, but everything. The roads seemed solid and the buildings were still standing. Maybe it was just a tremor, just an isolated shift and nothing to worry about. Something I'd be looking at on Monday, trying to figure out why the hell Atlanta was having any kind of noticeable seismic activity.

  "We might be able to take the train at Lindbergh Center," Brent said as if he could read my mind. "It seems stable around here."

  "No!" Jake replied sharply. "I'm not getting on that damn thing, no matter how it looks. The last place I want to be is underground."

  "You're such a pussy."

  "Call me what you want. I'm not getting trapped in a damn tin can. I'll take my chances up here."

  With that, Brent gave up on his plan. So, we just kept on walking. I was holding Cindy, nearly carrying her as we trotted down the street. My mind was a tornado and no matter how much I tried to write it off, I knew something was wrong.

  We'd survived a catastrophe. Walked right out of the front door of what ended up being a coffin for most and we barely had a scratch. I wanted to say I was in shock, but I wasn't sure. The longer we walked the more things popped into my mind that I should've done or been concerned with. But when we came out of the club the only thing I cared about was getting as far away as I could.

  I stopped walking and patted my pockets then looked around. "Does anyone have their phone?"

  "My purse," Cindy grunted. "Shit...I left my purse in there."

  Her face immediately morphed into a painful frown and I knew she was judging herself. She did that a lot, and complaining about a purse when people died in that building was certain to put her on her own shit list.

  "It's not your fault," I said and rubbed her back.

  She nodded and continued to sulk.

  "Got mine," Brent said and held up his silver IPhone.

  "Mine is...not here," Jake laughed. "I wanted an upgrade anyway, but we don't need to call anyone. There were tons of people there already."

  "I don't have service anyway," Brent replied. "What about you Max?"

  Shrugging, I held my hands up in defeat. I think I dropped my phone in the toilet."

  "Great...let's just keep going."

  We turned back down the sidewalk, but stopped as a loud high-pitched tone echoed down the street. It was a metallic screech like bad brakes, grinding on rotors. I covered my ears and squinted.

  "What the hell?" Brent shouted.

  The noise droned on like nails on a chalkboard. It was getting louder and louder, squeezing my ear drums like cotton balls. Cindy fell to the ground, clutching her head and Brent and Jake were nearly in tears.

  As the sound continued, the sidewalk started to shake and I looked up ahead to the Arts Center Transit station. The ground near it started to buckle and it felt like I was trying to balance on a soccer ball. A bulge appeared in the asphalt just to the right of the station and cracks spiraled across the sidewalk, shooting into the road.

  "Argh!!" I yelled as the pressure in my ears reached a pinnacle.

  For the first time that I could remember I felt real fear, down to the core of my soul. The kind of fear that haunted the dark before man discovered fire. The kind that children felt when they looked into a closet at night.

  It wasn’t like inside of the club, it was different. I could hear the piercing sound of fate and there was nowhere to hide. I could hear death coming, but I couldn’t see it and that twisted my stomach inside out.

  The high-pitched shrill continued. I thought my head was going to erupt and right when I couldn't take another second, the sound exploded just as a train ripped through the ground and burst into the air like a flaming arrow. It smashed into the station, sending burning pieces of shrapnel in every direction.

  “Jesus!” Brent snapped.

  Like a manic snake, the train lurched from the Earth, flames and body parts spewing from the sides. Screams of horror and death replaced the screeching and the smell of cooking flesh permeated the air.

  The ground shook and the concrete splintered. A crack ran down the middle, shredding the road in half. The asphalt in front of me shuddered then crumbled into a black abyss. Everything was falling apart and the Earth was hell bent on swallowing us all.

  I shifted to one side and grabbed Cindy by the arm. We fell back into the grass then shuffled away as the gap widened.

  With a grunt, Brent jumped and landed on the curb. He stumbled onto the grass next to us then whipped around, looking for Jake who for reasons only he knew, hadn’t moved.

  The asphalt below him caved in and in slow motion Jack fell backward. The ground was a hungry mouth opening to greet him, waiting to devour him like one of those meat eating plants. With his arms swinging recklessly, and his eyes screaming for help, Jake tumbled and vanished beneath the road.

  CHAPTER 4

  HOME SICK

  Cindy unleashed a wailing, cry and fell to the ground. My jaw dropped and I felt my knees buckling underneath me. Before I could move Brent was already on his feet, rushing toward the massive gap.

  The road was ripped apart. The two sides were split down the middle and slowly crumbling away like a cigarette bud.

  "Jake!" Brent yelled. "Jake...where are you?"

  Suddenly, a hand shot up from the depths and grabbed the side of the road. Another hand slapped at the pavement
beside it then a dirt covered face peeked out.

  "Brent! Get me the fuck out of here!" Jake screeched.

  His voice was pained and quivered with fear. I'd never heard him like that, I'd never heard anyone like that. It was like he'd seen death face to face.

  "Stay here!" I told Cindy.

  I followed after Brent and ran into the road. Together we grabbed Jake's arms and pulled him up. All three of us fell back onto the curb as a rush of steam whooshed behind him.

  I could feel the heat against my skin. It was like I’d stuck my head in an oven. Anyone caught in the direct blast would’ve been cooked alive.

  “Damn that was close,” I yelped.

  Jake struggled to catch his breath. His hands were pretty sliced up, but other than that he looked fine. He still had the look of terror etched on his face and I knew this nightmare would only get worse.

  Brent looked back at the crumbling road and scampered further onto the sidewalk, pulling Jake along with him. As another chunk of asphalt broke away I scrambled to my feet and followed.

  "You okay?" I asked and wrapped my arms around Cindy.

  She didn't respond, she lifted her hand and pointed toward the station. The mangled remains of the train were intertwined with the building. Jagged metal strips wrapped around the iron framing like tinsel. Fire rolled across the surface like it was alive, melting the frame like wax.

  "My God," I mumbled.

  My heart pounded like a timpani drum, but through that I could hear the screams for help. People wailing in pain as they burned to death, trapped inside of the twisted train's compartments. It was no way to die.

  Rancid, black smoke was starting to cloud the air. It covered the station as it floated through the night like a cloak. The Grim Reaper had been busy.

  "We have to help," Brent said lowly.

  How could we help? Even as I watched, small explosions went off from God knew what, pieces of the transit station crumbled to the ground and the groans from inside intensified. How could we help without needing someone to help us?