The Dark Rift

Looking at the city now, it seems worlds away from the city I lived in while I attended the University of V three years ago. The streets, driveways, and garages throughout were barren of civilian automobiles. All of the cars and trucks were towed to the yard two years ago and were smashed and melted. The resulting chemicals were exported to the world powers in exchange for food, money, and other essentials. These days the only vehicles you’ll see patrolling the streets are government vehicles painted in black.

The sun is absorbing itself into my black uniform and it makes my body want to fall asleep. The heat engulfs my watch post on the corner, flowing up the large concrete walls of the barricade like a vertical river. It surrounds me and races up and down the narrow pathways that lay on top of the wall. Through the haze rising from the asphalt I can barely see a man down the street kneeling down, his hands pecking at the sun-dried grass. Blurry figures behind him are doing the same thing. I swing my gun over my back with the shoulder strap and pick up the binoculars hanging from my neck to have a closer look.

"They’ve been diggin’ at that grass for some time now," says Sal who sits atop the watch post with me. He is a young Italian gentleman, who, like me, was forced to take this job or face the impending fate of the subjects of our conversation.

"What are they doing anyhow?" I inquired.

"They’re tryin’ to stay alive, that’s all."

I lower my binoculars and look at the only friend I’ve made so far in the force. He has the kind of genuine eyes that tell me all I need to know about him—he is a good man and I find solace having him next to me. Along the road two patrol cars, which look more like tanks than anything, drive by with men in black uniforms hanging out the windows yelling at the unfortunate ones.

"We are all trying to stay alive, right Sal? I mean everyone has tried to stay alive since the dawn of humanity, it’s our nature. Am I wrong?" I let out a sigh as I take a sip of ice water from the large pitcher in front of me.

"Yeah you’re right, but a few years ago we didn’t notice anyone tryin’. Everythin’ was served up on a silver platter and no one noticed. But look here now, them people on their knees are trying real hard and we all see it but we can’t do nothin’ but watch." Sal had a slowly burning cigarette hanging off his lower lip and the smoke from it was lost in the humidity almost as soon as it rolled off the ash.

A gravelly voice from behind me startles me. "They’re eating the bugs." The man behind me spits onto the street. "Beetles, centipedes, ants, and hell whatever they can find. It’s quite sad if you ask me." He continues along the wall without the slightest intention of carrying on anymore conversation.

The sun reflects off his metal badge and momentarily blinds me as I turn to see who it is. He has a banana in his right hand and a virgin cigar in the other. He turns his back from the slight breeze to light it and I see the words Sgt. Jay Daniels stitched into the back of his black uniform. He must be doing his hourly rounds. I recognize the name as a classmate from the U of V.

I don’t even get a chance to reply before he throws the remains of his banana peel in the direction of the insect eaters and walks away gaily. It lands about twenty yards from the man I first saw, and he quickly hurries to it and puts it in his mouth. Behind him the blurry figures were scrambling to look for scraps that he might have missed, but they find none and retreat, malignant and malnourished back to their knees. I pick up my binoculars again to watch.

"Ah he’s an asshole," Sal says with a detestable tone, "He was one of the first in line to sign up back in 2010. Never has anythin’ nice to say, just orders, orders, shit and more shit."

I can make out the blurry figures now. There are four children, barely dressed. One boy has large, swollen eyes and what seem to be burns scarring his naked back. Another has a torn tank top that is barely hanging on to his slim frame. Another, a little girl, still wears her hair in pony tails as if everything is all right, but the holes in her pajamas and her dirt-stained blouse tell a different story. The last boy has long, knotty hair that covers his face and some of his back. They all wear no shoes. I want to reach my hands out and offer assistance but the gap between us is too vast now.

Sal picks up a newspaper that was folded and tucked into his coat and starts to read. The Privileged Press is made and delivered only inside the barricade. One headline reads, "U.S. Unemployment Among Highest In World At 45%." Another reads, "Russia Buys Alaska For 5 Trillion, U.S. Still 30 In Debt." I take another sip of ice water and allow my body to feel it trickle down various tubes. I close my eyes and I am lost for a while.

Brrrrrrinnnnnng, brrrrrrinnnnnng, brrrrrrinnnnnng, shrieks an alarm. I don’t know how much time has passed since I dozed off, but now it’s dark and I have goose bumps on my arms.

"Fallin’ asleep on your first day, huh?" Sal says with a smile. "It’s ok, you were only out for a half hour, and Sgt. Daniels didn’t even make it back. Come on, shifts over, let’s go get some grub."

*

As I lie in bed on the top bunk my body tells me it is confused. Now it seems cold enough for each of my fingers to be replaced with icicles. I wish I could have snuck in Julie’s mittens somehow during initiation. I pull the wool blanket up and tuck it under my chin. My toes hang out now and the cold creeps under the blanket and in seconds my feet are cold. I quickly tuck the blanket back around my feet and sacrifice my neck and chest to keep my lower body warm.

The three other men in the room are long asleep and snoring loudly. They are used to it. I, on the other hand am accustomed to sleeping outside the barricade, in my old house all alone. I had no heat there of course, but I had a lot of blankets from which I created a cocoon to sleep in. The junk yard I worked at was only a short walk away. I worked seventy hours each week for a fifty dollar pay check, which was just enough to buy a sufficient amount food when the barricade doors opened once a week to allow those of us who worked at the yard fifteen minutes to buy food from their market. After fifteen minutes the doors were closed and locked for another week. Those without jobs went without food.

In lieu of counting sheep I recall my last year of college when everything was still on a silver platter. I lived on Isham Street where all the houses were close to each other and all the tenants were under thirty. At the end of the street there was a six story brick building called the "The Rosewood Rehab Center." Only the back of it could be seen from our street. To the side of it there was a very convenient short cut, a one way narrow roadway that led from our street to the Rehab Center’s parking lot. The Rosewood was on Pearl Street, the most popular route for students in my neighborhood to get to and from class.

Isham Street was a constant block party and had more foot traffic than vehicle traffic, especially on Halloween. My last Halloween at college I was dressed as a wizard, wearing a blue gown with gold stars pinned to it. I also wore a blue pointy cap and a long white tape on beard. Stumbling back from a party with a group of friends I remembered the cigar I had brought along with me. I fumble to find it and then realize I either absentmindedly forgot a lighter or lost it at the party. We were walking through the Rosewood parking lot intending to take the shortcut when I saw two women smoking cigarettes near the Rosewood entrance. They were both blonde and appeared to be in their thirties. They wore blue scrubs and white shoes. One of them filled the uniform snuggly while the other’s hung loosely on her body. I stopped and asked if I could borrow a light for my cigar and my friends kept walking.

"Can’t you use your magic fingers for that," said the fat one as she looked at her friend, laughing.

"They don’t seem to be working tonight ladies; I think they’re outta juice."

The joke maker already had her lighter out and flicked it so a two inch flame was inches away from my cigar. I dipped it in and twirled it around slowly to get the perfect light. "Thank you ma’am, much appreciated," I said as I drew in some smoke and exhaled a large, slow ring followed by a tighter ring that I shot through the middle of the first. "How bout that for some magic?"

"Hey that’s pretty good," said the skinny girl, "Got anything else?"

"I’m afraid not, this Wizard spends too much time abusing his lungs and not enough on magic. Thanks for the light, name’s Hurley."

"Jessica."

"Marjorie."

"Well, nice to meetcha both. Out on break?"

"Yep, we get 15 minutes twice a night. Usually spend them out here smoking and watching you college kids stumble through the lot causing trouble," replied Jessica. Her bony face was interesting to look at, and quite pretty.

"Yeah I bet you see some pretty funny shit happening through here this time of night. You ladies always work the night shift?"

"Five nights a week, graveyard shift." Marjorie’s lingering smile tightened and was lost.

"Hey, I’ve always wondered. It say’s rehabilitation center on the sign but doesn’t say what kind. Is it for drugs, injuries, or what?" I inquired with interest.

"Actually, to be quite honest, people come here to wait to die," Marjorie said with cracks in her voice. Suddenly both women’s eyes turned sad and I’m sure mine did, too. Marjorie threw her cigarette on the ground and stomped it out with her heel.

"Oh, that’s terrible. I’m awakened by sirens a lot during the week. When I look out the window I see they are usually in this parking lot."

"Yes, two or three patients die each week normally."

"Must be hard to work here." There was a brief, uncomfortable pause. "Hey, that black woman with the dreads that sits out front everyday knitting, what’s her story?" I used to walk past her on my way to and from class. She always seemed peaceful sitting outside in her wheelchair, but I had never heard her talk. Even one day when I said hello but she just smiled.

"That’s Julie. She came here from Montreal, only speaks French. She has problems with her lungs so she hardly even speaks that," said Jessica. She looks at her watch. "Hey look, we gotta get going but it was nice chatting with you Hurley." Jessica puts out her cigarette in the ashtray.

"Yeah, nice magic Hurley the Wizard, maybe we’ll see you around."

"Yeah sure, have a good night."

The next day on my way to class I stopped in front of Julie’s wheelchair. I showed her both sides of my hands and then pointed to the ball of yarn in her lap and the needle she was holding, and then pointed back to my hands. She smiled and nodded. Then I pulled out my wallet and showed her a twenty dollar bill. Again she smiled but this time she shook her head. I said thank you and continued on to class. How that woman smiled so sweetly in such a sepulchral place as the Rosewood baffles me.

After class I walked down the hill thinking about Julie and allowed empathy to warm me a little. When I got to the shortcut, Julie was sitting in the same place and she held up a pair of mittens. They were black and red and fit perfectly. I said thank you again and walked home. That night I looked through some old paintings I had made and found a particularly enlightening one that I planned to give Julie first thing in the morning.

Sirens woke me up at 4 A.M. I got out of bed and put on my slippers and Julie’s mittens and rushed over to the Rosewood. Jessica and Marjorie were out front watching the medics load a body into the back of the ambulance.

"Jessica, Marjorie," I yelled to get their attention. They came over to me. "Who is that?"

"It’s Mrs. Winslow, you wouldn’t know her, why?" Jessica said.

"Oh. Well thank you, have a good night now."

I walked back home and went into bed still wearing the mittens. I liked the feeling of warm hands. The rest of the school year I saw Julie everyday and we always waved and smiled at each other. Some days she would bring the painting I gave her and hold it in her lap, just staring and smiling.

Since I graduated I haven’t been back there and tonight, as I find myself trying to fall asleep inside this barricade, I wonder about Julie. And what happened to Marjorie and Jessica? And me? Oh Lord what happened to the world?

*

I look down at the plate in front me containing one scrambled egg, one piece of bacon, and half of a sausage, and suddenly lose my appetite. I push the plate across the table toward Sal.

"What are you kiddin’? You gone wacko or somethin’? They’d kill for this out there, c’mon eat up," Sal says as he pushes the plate toward me. I push it back to him forcefully.

"I’m not hungry. Now eat it you Italian goose or I’ll throw it in the bin," I said, trying to be humorous. But it was like trying to pry the jaws of a lion off a dying zebra’s neck.

"Happy birthday to me then! Merry Fuckin’ Christmas and a happy New Year, too!" Sal always finds the best of every situation. I pick up an issue of the Privileged Press and begin to read an article with the headline "Climate Change On Brink Of Disaster."

Scientists around the world are warning humanity that serious changes in the earth’s climate could take the lives of half of the world’s population unless drastic measures are taken quickly. Dr. Stephen Jogiavich, head of a team of scientists who have been studying Global Warming and its effects on life for more than a decade says "This is no longer a problem to deal with in the future, it is now reality. World leaders must come up with long term plans to be deployed within the next few months. These plans must get all people to high elevations, to avoid the drastic flood that is going to occur as a result of the complete thaw of the polar ice caps." Jogiavich says the Sun will reach its hottest temperature ever on December 21, 2012 when a phenomenon called the Dark Rift will occur. This phenomenon, which occurs when the Sun aligns directly in the center of the Milky Way Galaxy, and occurs alongside a total eclipse of the Sun and an eclipse of Mars against the Sun, happens once every 26,000 years. Last time it happened the world lost more than half of its species to extinction and an Ice Age followed shortly after. The ancient Mayan’s have also predicted this day to be the Apocalypse…

"You believin’ that scientist prick Hurley? I think he’s a load of shit."

I am done reading that article and I glance over the headlines of some more. "Pandemic Breaks Out In India, Kills 100,000 In Week," and "Obama Contemplates Evacuation and Sale of Texas To Mexico."

Brrrrrrinnnnnng. Brrrrrrinnnnnng. Brrrrrrinnnnnng. It’s the shift alarm again. Everyone gets up from their seats and brings their trays to the conveyor belt. The mess hall is chaotic. It looks like everyone got spun around really fast inside some machine and then were let loose and told to walk due North. Sal and I climb up the metal ladder in the corner of the mess hall and out through the hole in the ceiling. We walk along the pathway on top of the wall until we get to our post. Now we sit, we wait, and we watch.

The heat isn’t so bad in the morning. I didn’t get much sleep last night and my eyes feel heavy. I close them, knowing Sal will watch my back for me, and again I am lost for a while.

"Hey Hurl," Sal says as he shakes my shoulder, "wake up man, somethin’s happening."

I wake up from my sleep and rub my eyes. Off in the distance something is moving very fast and dragging something behind it. I pick up the binoculars to have a look.

"Hey Sal, it looks like a man dragging a body attached to a rope." In fact it was a man, it was the one from the day before who picked up Sgt. Daniels banana peel.

"Look behind ‘im," Sal said, "There’s more comin’."

I moved the binoculars behind the man and saw a group of eight or so men running and shaking sticks and clubs in the air, yelling loudly.

Sal picks up his walkie-talkie. "Heya Sarge, we got a situation, come to post 10-B right away, over." Within seconds Sgt. Jay Daniels was running down the pathway with his gun ready. Sal points off in the distance of the action and the Sarge jumps right over the edge and slides down the wall saying, "Come with me men!"

Sal and I slide down the wall and follow behind Sarge, who is now shooting his gun in the air and yelling, "Hold it right there you animals. Stop it right there!" The man dragging the body stops in his tracks and the group of men jump on him and begin punching, kicking, yelling. Sarge stops and lifts his gun, "Get off of him or I’ll shoot every last one of you rats." Either they don’t hear him or they don’t care because none of them stop punching, kicking, screaming.

Sarge lets off four rounds, hitting two men whose bodies fall limp and slide off the pile of chaos to rest on the ground. The rest of the men stop and raise their hands backing off of the man with a dead body tied around his waist. I look at one of the men who lie limp in the dirt. Something was sticking out of his back right pocket. Could it be? Impossible, but I pick up my binoculars to double check.

"Now what the hell is going on here?" Sarge asks with authority.

"We’re hungry," a man in the group with few teeth says, "and he wadn’t gon’ share wit the restovus."

I can’t believe my eyes. Black and red mittens.

The man with the body on the rope says, "I found this one dead as a door nail this morning sir, I wanted to get him for myself before the flies and maggots did."

"Alright, go ahead and take him." The children from the day before are watching from a distance and Sarge takes note of them. "Hold on a sec now," Sarge says as the man begins to walk off, "take this one too, and feed those children over there." Sarge nudged one of the men he just shot with his right foot, getting a little blood on the polished leather.

"Yes sir," the man says as he bends down and takes a loose rope end from his waist and ties it around the neck of the dead man.

"Wait!" I yell out as I run up to the body and pull the gloves from his pocket and quickly fall back behind Sarge. He gives me a stern look and slowly follows me with his eyes until I am behind him.

"I’ll be watching you so don’t try and keep him for yourself, you feed those kids now."

"Yes sir, I will."

"And you rats," continues Sarge pointing his gun at the group of men, "you get this one." Sarge pokes the other dead man with his gun. "And you leave that man and those children alone, or they’ll have enough food for a few months you hear?"

"Yes sah," says the one with few teeth. And without hesitation he bends down and grabs an arm with each of his hands and drags the body away in the opposite direction. The rest of the rat pack follows behind licking their lips.

Sarge turns to look at us. I’m holding the mittens in my hand. "Now boys, you know how to handle that situation in the future, so don’t go calling me again, you got it?" Sal replied with a yes sir and I slide the mittens onto my hands and turn my back.

"What the hell are you doing boy," replies Jay Daniels, who once cried on his way back from class when he was hit with a snowball in the face. I begin to walk away.

"Hurley, quit fuckin’ around man, get back here."

I want to tell Sal I’m sorry, that I am leaving and not coming back. But I don’t, I just keep walking with my beloved mittens on. I shed my gun and my binoculars.

"Stop right there boy, you hear me!"

I shed my dreaded black uniform, and suddenly I am only in boots and these mittens, but I have never felt more complete, more at peace, than I do right now in this moment. The sun watches over me and warms my skin.

BANG, BANG, BANG, and then silence.

The heat is more intense now than the day before, more intense then the Dark Rift would be. It warms my whole body and makes it want to fall asleep. Warms my muscles, my bones, my heart, my blood.