*****
We dipped under the torn bridge towards a narrow alley, where two buildings supported each other, forming an apex. The wind suddenly ceased its screaming. Thick, green vines snaked up the walls and through the windows, slowly reclaiming, like lazy worms, pulling the buildings to the earth. I had no doubt they would eventually get their way.
We caught up and huddled around Matthew, rolling and knocking against each other like aimless marbles. He dusted his hands off, painting his pants with black streaks. Pulling off his mask left a wide, black, drawn-on smile around his mouth like a clown, where the dust had collected in the meeting between mask and skin. We all did the same. “Does anyone suffer from claustrophobia, a fear of small spaces? Although I probably should have asked you this before we left…” he said in a worn, cracked voice. The other Survivor had been here before. His question was aimed at Pelo and me.
I hugged my body tight. “I don’t think I’m going to like where you’re going with this, am I?”
Frederick, the man who had identified his daughter, Hana, as one of the dead, stepped forward, his ash-stained face striped from tears. “I’ll help you, little rabbit,” he said kindly. I liked his rumbling voice, comforting in this ridiculously unfamiliar situation.
I tipped my head up. He was a hulking man, tanned, with grey-tinged sideburns that grazed his jawline and exaggerated its already large size. His grey eyes were wet, and he kept wiping his nose with his sleeve.
“You don’t have to do that,” I whispered, touching his arm. He had enough to worry about.
He wiped his nose again and stood up straight. “It’ll give me something to concentrate on.” He extended his leathery paw. “Take my hand.”
I put the thought of snot out of my head and grabbed his hand, seeing a slight slump in Pelo’s posture as I did.
Matthew stood with his hands on his hips, pausing while he searched the ground. He was mustering courage or preparing himself, I wasn’t sure which. Finally, he spoke, “We need to climb up into that car park.”
I raised my eyebrows. Pelo asked before I could. “Car park?”
Matthew nodded, and I saw a tiny smile that was quickly replaced with seriousness. He pointed to a sandwich of thick concrete slabs, haphazardly sitting on top of each other. “See that? People used to park their cars in these buildings for the day while they worked, shopped, or whatever.”
Pelo scratched his chin in puzzlement. I knew he was thinking the same thing as me. The mind boggled at the idea that there were so many cars in the world that they had huge buildings to put them in. In Pau, I had only seen one electric van in my whole life. That and the garbage trucks were the only wheeled transportation I’d ever been privy to.
We walked to the end of the alley until it was so narrow we had to walk single file. I kept a hold of Frederick’s hand. He ducked under the metal bars and beams that jutted out overhead and warned me about piles of broken glass. We came to a dead end, and Matthew pointed up. A concrete slab had been torn in half, leaving the iron bars set inside it exposed. The Survivors had fashioned a crude ladder out of the bars. I hesitated, because at the top of this ladder was a black slant of an opening barely high enough for a body lying flat, and I knew Matthew was going to tell me we had to go in there.
Frederick squeezed my hand. “If I can fit, then you’ll be fine, little rabbit,” he said. I frowned and mused that yes, if I were a rabbit, I would fit. I had my doubts about a full-grown Rosa squishing her way through there. I watched Matthew climb up, grip his hands on the top edge of the opening, and arrange himself so his feet were pointing into the darkness. He held his torch between his teeth, gave me one last look of concern, and disappeared.
The others followed, including Pelo, who shot up the ladder and into the dark like a thin-armed monkey before I could blink. I heard scraping and grunts, saw the occasional flick of light as someone’s torch swung back towards the opening. I hung back, determined to be last. Frederick bumped into my back and urged me forward.
I bit my lip and started climbing.
“You go first, and I’ll shine the torch ahead of you. Don’t worry, I’ve been down before. I’ll direct you,” Frederick said.
I nodded slowly and swung my feet so that they were pointing down the incline and into the dark. Everyone was too far in front of me. All I could see was a triangle of light at the bottom of what seemed to be an ever-constricting crack between two concrete slabs.
The bulky man slid in next to me and whispered, “Go.”
The only thought that came to mind when he said ‘go’ was ‘no’. But I didn’t have a choice. I shimmied downwards, the back of my shirt lifting, exposing my skin to the cold concrete, a hundred little scratches roughing up my skin. I thought I might just slide down swiftly and then wedge at the bottom, but the concrete was coarse. I had to wiggle my hips and use my hands to push off the concrete above me to get any downward movement at all.
With my fingers pressed to the ceiling, I imagined Joseph doing this with Orry on his front. I stopped breathing. I could see my little boy’s forehead dragging across the ceiling. I could hear his cries getting swallowed up by the cold dark. He would see nothing, his only comfort the steady heartbeat in his father chest as they scrambled down.
The slabs were getting closer together. I couldn’t get my arms above my head any more. I had to put them at my sides and wiggle like a snake. I stopped, listening for other voices. I could hear Matthew and Pelo; they sounded close.
“Rosa, are you there? Turn right when you get to the end and crawl through the pipe,” I heard my father say. I rolled my eyes. A pipe. Of course.
Frederick’s boot tapped my head not so gently. “You all right?” he asked.
“Uhuh,” I managed as my head rattled from the tapping. I moved faster. My breath quickened. I needed to get out of this place. The thought of being crushed was overwhelming me, and I started to panic. I shimmied down until my boots hit the end. I looked right but could see no pipe. Light was coming from somewhere, but I couldn’t find the source. My heart was hammering in my chest. Did we take a wrong turn? My hands searched frantically around for an opening to the right, and I cut my finger on a piece of jagged iron.
“Damn it.” I put my finger in my mouth, tasting metallic blood.
Torchlight skimmed my hands. “Look up,” he said calmly.
I looked up and to my right and, sure enough, there was a round opening. I heaved myself up and into it, scurrying along the pipe on my hands and knees like I was being chased. I fell out of the end abruptly, landing on the men who were waiting to catch me.
Pelo laughed in a short, stressed kind of way.
They righted me like a toppled bottle and then Frederick came out, landing on his feet with a thump. He smiled at me gently and then turned to the others. We were clustered at one end of a brick corridor, which was scrawled with angry black characters I couldn’t read. Everyone stared nervously at a shining, steel door. It was solid and ominous. It held every possibility to the point where I didn’t really want to open it.
Matthew sighed. “If anyone made it, they’ll be in there.”
We all breathed in, didn’t breath out, and walked together.
Silence can be a good thing…it lulls you to sleep, it calms a sore head. It could be welcome and warm. But this silence was a compound of fear and panic. It was thick and desperate. We perched like birds on a thin branch, three feet from the door, and listened for sounds of life. Nothing but stale, thin air seeped out from the gap at the bottom.
Matthew had his head in his hands, worrying them back and forth like he could erase it. I grabbed the handle and felt it give easily under my shaking hand. It squeaked long and loud, and then I heard the most beautiful sound in the world. A cry.