Bad Things Can Happen Part 2
The second installment. Enjoy
Erik tripped on a perturbing piece of cement, but picked himself up and sprinted the rest of the way towards his house. All the other smoldering wreckage around the block barely registering. All that mattered was his house, gone. Just like that. Nothing more than a pile of black ash and timber that hissed when the rain hit it. Erik stumbled into the sight, frantically searching for anything recognizable. Then a though hit him. His mom had been in the house, she hadn’t gone to work today.
"Oh please don’t make this be happening he," he prayed.
Redoubling his efforts he stormed through the wet ash, throwing things out of the way with an effort he never would have been able to achieve normally. But it was a hopeless task and his ferocity was slowly thrown away with the pieces of wood he chucked and kicked out of the way, leaving nothing but grief.
Erik lowered himself to a piece of wood that wasn’t so burnt and buried his face in his hands, sobbing with the panic and fear of his situation. Rain pounded down harder than ever, but Erik couldn’t have cared less. What was he going to do? His Mom most likely dead, his Dad away in Asia. Erik moaned, wiping his eyes, tears mingling with rain in watery streaks against his face.
A fire-truck’s siren sounded in the distance and quickly grew louder in the next few seconds. The whirring noise bringing the real world to this depressing scene. It took a while for Erik to comprehend the noise, but then suddenly he jumped up, running desperately towards the noise.
The firemen would know what to do, they always did. They would find his Mom, she couldn’t be dead. What had even taken them so long? Erik thought. But before he could analyze that, another noise, even louder than the fire trucks, sounded behind him. Erik spun around to an astonishing sight. Hovering barely 20 feet above the ground was a helicopter. Underneath the helicopter a ladder hung with a dark figure attached to the last few rungs.
The helicopter was headed down the street, straight towards Erik, creating a large billowing cloud of ash and dust with its blades.
The man on the ladder reached out a hand as the helicopter drew level with Erik.
Erik ducked, then dropped to the ground in an attempt to evade the hand. It almost worked, but the man found purchase on Erik’s backpack and heaved upwards with incredible strength. Erik grunted in pain, the thin backpack straps cutting into his wet shoulders, nearly wrenching them from their sockets. The man holding him mumbled something that could have been sorry and the helicopter lifted up.
"Oh please don’t make this be happening he," he prayed.
Redoubling his efforts he stormed through the wet ash, throwing things out of the way with an effort he never would have been able to achieve normally. But it was a hopeless task and his ferocity was slowly thrown away with the pieces of wood he chucked and kicked out of the way, leaving nothing but grief.
Erik lowered himself to a piece of wood that wasn’t so burnt and buried his face in his hands, sobbing with the panic and fear of his situation. Rain pounded down harder than ever, but Erik couldn’t have cared less. What was he going to do? His Mom most likely dead, his Dad away in Asia. Erik moaned, wiping his eyes, tears mingling with rain in watery streaks against his face.
A fire-truck’s siren sounded in the distance and quickly grew louder in the next few seconds. The whirring noise bringing the real world to this depressing scene. It took a while for Erik to comprehend the noise, but then suddenly he jumped up, running desperately towards the noise.
The firemen would know what to do, they always did. They would find his Mom, she couldn’t be dead. What had even taken them so long? Erik thought. But before he could analyze that, another noise, even louder than the fire trucks, sounded behind him. Erik spun around to an astonishing sight. Hovering barely 20 feet above the ground was a helicopter. Underneath the helicopter a ladder hung with a dark figure attached to the last few rungs.
The helicopter was headed down the street, straight towards Erik, creating a large billowing cloud of ash and dust with its blades.
The man on the ladder reached out a hand as the helicopter drew level with Erik.
Erik ducked, then dropped to the ground in an attempt to evade the hand. It almost worked, but the man found purchase on Erik’s backpack and heaved upwards with incredible strength. Erik grunted in pain, the thin backpack straps cutting into his wet shoulders, nearly wrenching them from their sockets. The man holding him mumbled something that could have been sorry and the helicopter lifted up.
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