They were in absolute awe, staggered and stammering, “Who is this, anyway? He calls out to the winds and sea, and they do what he tells them!”
Friday, July 20, 10:57 am
A face emerges from the gloom. It’s dust-caked, with sweat and – is that blood? He is young, at least 10 years younger than me, maybe more, and he’s wearing some kind of heavy jacket, a backpack, and leather work gloves; he can’t be much taller than me, although I am rather tall for a woman, 5’9”, and despite all the clothes he looks slender and fit. His short, curly hair sticks out in all directions, also covered in dust and spiking in strange directions, so coated in filth I can’t even make out what color is. It looks dirty blond, but everything looks dirty right now. His eyes are hard to see in the light but they’re definitely not dark, and what I can see of his face, which is mostly covered with some piece of fabric, has this firm, resolved, set look that barely hides some other emotion: Fatigue? Anger? I can’t read him.
My first feeling is disappointment. This isn’t the cavalry charging in to save the day; it’s just one guy here on his own, probably having no idea what to do and making this up as he goes, and he’s way too dirty to be a white knight. For just a fleeing moment I’m sorry I even said anything when I heard him calling, but then I remember that I need him to get me out of here, and once he’s done that, I can always make my own decisions, call Michael, call Shane, call 911, and generally get back to real life.
“I’m Daniel,” the man says, and his voice sounds dry and kind of croaky through the dark cloth.
“I’m Rachel.” I don’t bother with any other pleasantries but get straight to the point. “Can you get me out of here?”
The man, Daniel, has been examining the exterior of my car. “There’s a fucking Hummer on top of your car, partly up on the roof,” he tells me, looking up and off to the right. “It’s bent your car frame all out of shape, and it’s going to be damn hard to get you out of there. Let me look at this…” He starts to walk away.
“Hey, don’t go anywhere,” I call, or try to call, but I’m thwarted by more coughing and dust.
Daniel reappears, peers closer at me. Whatever he sees seems to alarm him, because for a second I see the lines around his eyes tighten and he draws in a hissing breath. “OK, Rachel, how about if we get you cleaned up a little bit, and I’ll make you a filter, so you can breathe without sucking in too much more dust.”
“Fine, but I really need to get out first.” He doesn’t seem to understand that I’m on the verge of passing out from being so squished in place. “You don’t get it, I can hardly breathe, I’m – I’m –” suddenly my chest is heaving, as much as it can, and then it’s dark. Continue reading “NaNoWriMo: Day 8”