This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
The following episodes detail the events the day of, and the day after the massacre at the Westview Fourth of July celebration carnival. Be aware, spoilers galore if you have not read, MORIUM: TERMINUS.
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Mary Johanson brushed her wavy brown hair from her face as she sprinted her medium-sized body past the rain of body parts falling around her. The echoes of gunfire that filled the air suddenly fell silent. Above her, bodies levitated and were violently tossed around like rag dolls in a dog’s mouth before being tossed to the side or torn apart. Somewhere behind her, her husband and daughter lay among the mass of dead or dying. They’d been crushed underneath the remains of the Ferris wheel, which had been torn down by an unseen force in a mangled pile of metal. Screams of the helpless echoed throughout the field, and the world around her became surreal.
Searching for anything to take refuge behind, she spied a clown’s colorful face and grinning teeth above the faded paint of a cotton candy stand. Mary crutched to take cover and shielded her ears from the horror. The thought of her family, who only minutes ago she watched board the Ferris Wheel with beaming smiles, became too much to bear, and she began to weep uncontrollably. Every loud noise that vibrated Mary’s insides caused her to jump and shake uncontrollably.
She looked to her left, and nestled tightly in a mother’s arms behind the drink stand, two young girls clung for protection. Mary knew who they were, but amidst the destruction, their names escaped her. Behind them, the generator came alive and rained sparks upon them. The mother pressed the girls’ heads to her chest and peered at Mary. She caught the woman mouth the first words of The Lord’s Prayer, but before Mary could join them, they were gone. In an instant, the stand, the woman, and her daughters were blown away by a blast of wind before Mary’s eyes.
Knowing she couldn’t remain where she was, Mary peeked around the stand and past residents running for their lives. Standing in the distance, the high school became her only hope for survival. Throwing her arms over her head, Mary sprinted toward the school, but the closer she got, the more it appeared to slip farther away. She looked toward the football field to find two teenagers impaled through their stomachs, hanging lifeless from goalposts. She wanted to scream, to pray to God, but nothing came out.
Not keeping her eyes where she was going, Mary tripped over a torso and stumbled to the ground. She felt a hand grab her by the arm and try to lift her. Too terrified to look, Mary kept her head low and swung her arm away.
“Mrs. Johanson, please,” a panicked voice said. Recognizing the voice, Mary quickly glanced up to see the horrified eyes of a teenage boy staring back at her.
“Ryan?”
“We have to go. He’ll kill us all,” Ryan stated, his torn football jersey fluttering in the wind.
“Who?” Mary’s trembling voice asked.
“We need to go now,” Ryan demanded.
Ryan lifted Mary off the ground, but before they took a step, he was ripped upward, taking Mary with him. She broke free a few feet above the ground and fell with a heavy thud. After rolling onto her back, she watched in horror as Ryan’s body separated at his waist, and his innards spilled by her feet. There was no need to scream, for no one would hear her. Numbed by the events around her, Mary accepted that her fate would be like the rest.
She watched dark clouds of smoke wash away the peaceful blue sky. Above her, a figure gracefully floated into her vision. At first, she believed her guardian angel had come to save her, for the figure’s flowing white hair and pale skin was a welcome sight to the death around her. However, the more she stared at it, the more it became clear the creature was no angel. She could make out the form of a female, a teenage girl to be exact. She was saying something, but Mary couldn’t understand her during the thunderous chaos ringing out around her. Just as quick as the form had appeared, it flew off. Mary lay there calmly, accepting the fact it was all about to end.
The nauseous stench of gas fumes entered Mary’s nose, causing her head to become a haze. Nothing made sense anymore, and time had no meaning. Then it happened. She didn’t know if five minutes had passed or an hour since the nightmare had begun when a wave of heat swept over her, followed by a blast louder than any thunder she’d ever heard.
After the ringing in her ears subsided, silence fell over the field. The screams subsided to subtle cries. Lifting herself from the ground, Mary inspected the carnage before her. A fireball arched toward the heavens where a gas station once sat. Flames licked the parts of the field closest to the blast. Smoldering debris peppered the landscape as people, consumed by flames, scurried on the ground begging for help that would never arrive. Concession stands that only an hour ago served treats to a joyous crowd lay scorched or on fire.
Taking small steps, Mary walked through the wasteland toward her family. She kept her head straight if only to keep a watchful eye where she was walking. She weaved her way through the endless sea of human remains and smoldering metal. She gasped at the sight of a teen, their clothes burned into their darkened flesh. With the realization swarming into her, Mary fought back the vomit that had inched its way up her throat. She cupped her mouth and fell to her knees. Vomit slid through her fingers from her mouth and nose.
“Help me,” a quiet voice pleaded from her side.
Mary turned to see an elderly man stumbling his way toward her. His wrinkled face and his once-white hair were painted red from the gash on his head. His blue polo shirt had been shredded from small shards of glass still penetrating his frail body. He held his left side tight as if he was holding something in. Like the mother and daughters, she knew who the man was, but their faces held no meaning. The only names she remembered was of her family. Those were the only ones that mattered.
The old man reached Mary and moved his hand away from his wound. Part of his intestine dropped through a hole in his side and snaked its way to the ground. It was as far as he would make it. He collapsed by Mary’s feet and let out a final whining gasp of life. His eyes stayed open and fixated on her before rolling back in his head.
Another round of vomit flowed freely from Mary’s mouth. She didn’t want to go on. She wanted to wake from this nightmare. Her head soon became light. Her vision faded, and the world around her faded to black.
Great writing as always!
ReplyDeleteThank you.
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