Coming clean [pt1?]

The earth is angry with us. Spitting rage and unbending fury courses through the very soil we're on. My hazmat-protected hand reaches up to the heavens. A gesture of peace. In return, a faraway clap of thunder makes me jump. I land in a sitting position. The fishing supplies around me shake a jostle eagerly. All their containers are cracked or splintered, depending on the material. This is exciting, I can almost hear them whisper, we've never been on an adventure before.

The road is bumpy and uneven. The earthquakes recently have the whole world set in panic mode. In the front seat, Cassidy, Lacy, and Gordon are arguing. "No. This is my truck, so I decide where we go."

Lacy says.

Gordon rolls his eyes. "Head for the ocean! The fire can't catch us there!"

"No!" Cassidy protests. "The ocean is really far away. By the time we reach it. the ferries will be gone and the storm will have hit. I don't want to drown, thank you very much."

Gordon turns to Cassidy. His hazmat suit squeaks. "Have a better idea?"

"It's better than being really, really dead!"

"Shut up!" Lacy snaps. "In case you haven't noticed, everywhere we go is bad! Frowny back there might be right."

She points a plastic-covered finger at me. I blink; staring at someone through the window in this suit is hard.

"That's not my name."

Lacy waves a hand dismissively. "That isn't the point. You weren't even trying to escape this place. You must be a real pessimist."

I nod. "I have a saying--which applies pretty well to this situation. 'You know things are bad when pessimism and realism become the same thing.'"

Cassidy and Gordon share a blue-eyed glance. The blue reminds me of a pair of shoes I had when I was younger. My parents told me my sneakers were ruined from playing in the mud all day. My mom shook her head. Her red hair jostled beneath that thin, cream headband she wore everyday. My Dad just looked in horror at my feet. I just stared at my green runners, which were caked with dirt, grass, fertilizer, and whatever else I saw fit to run through. Later that day, shoes the colour of Cassidy and Gordon's irises were mine. It didn't take me long to make those filthy, too.

"Can't believe we picked you up. You're a real downer." Gordon notes.

I straighten up the fishing gear to avoid his glance. A fishing hook is hanging on to the side of the pickup. I've always been a bit embarrassed by my pessimism. "I'm telling you what I think will happen. You don't have to believe me."

Inside his suit, Gordon wrinkles his nose. He's been doing it so much these last few hours. It might be a nervous habit. Cassidy wacks him with a covered palm. "That's really rude. You should really apologize."

I ignore her subconscious but frequent use of 'really.'

"It's fine. He's got me pegged."

I get the hook free and turn my attention to the passing landscape. It's hard to see in the darkness; still, I manage to glimpse at some abandoned farmland. The toxins have no doubt ruined the crops.

The sound of screams isn't too far away. I know something's reached them. Where the fire's put out, a tsunami or at least a terrible storm is waiting for you. I didn't expect it to happen all at once. I thought at least, when the disaster unfolded, I'd have little time to say goodbye to my loved ones. My loved ones, all safe in that underground bunker. They'll have a little more food in there without me or my family. But they'll die of starvation. I did a little research on it --I'd rather drown. Which, it looks like, might just happen. Lacy turns right to avoid the sinkhole flooded with the sea. The ocean is raging as well. It's twisting it's lips in a wicked smile now. This is revenge. For the polluting and the poaching. For the melting and the fear. The ocean is ready to explode.

I scream as we go over a pothole. I don't mean to. It's been an hour of total silence. I didn't want to break it. But, believe it or not, even pessimists can get scared out of their wits. The three siblings probably don't believe it; Lacy slows down and the other two whip their heads around. "That makes you upset? Not the ending of the world?"

"You're really overreacting, you know. Are you alright?"

Even I don't know where that came from. My eyes are still wide in shock.

"Pessimist? Are you okay?"

Lacy's stopped the vehicle now. That's right. The apocalypse is coming, and all she cares about is me. The smell in this suit is unbearable. Droplets of sweat roll down my forehead in a snail's descent. Strands of red curls are stuck to my red cheeks. I ache for some water. I just nod at Lacy. "That's not my name either."

Lacy shrugs. She turns around and gets the motor running.

We continue our fruitless journey.

“You know,” Cassidy thinks out loud. “We never really asked what you were doing at that bus bench.”

I straighten my head. “I was waiting to die.”

“Never mind. I didn’t really want to know anyway.”

She faces forward again. Thoughts of guilt flash through my mind. This has the stink of manipulation. I last ten seconds before succumbing to her.

“Okay, fine! I wasn’t just sitting there, hoping the fire would take me out.”

I remember that bus bench. It was wooden and uncomfortable. My suitcase was sitting on my lap. In it, some photos of my family, three pairs of clothes, and a keepsake of my Dad. A silver watch. It was then when this ugly red truck came up to me. Lacy glanced at me from the driver’s seat. “Need a ride, kid?” she asked. Her brown pupils were coated with a kindness rarely found in anyone.

I hesitated. “Well, I…”

“The fire’s really close.” Cassidy pointed out.

It was true. About a kilometer away, I saw wisps of red and tongues of orange coming towards us. “Yes, actually. Thank you. I might as well extend my life by a few hours.”

I was climbing on the truck when a rumble from the earth knocked me inside. Lacy started the engine right away. What she didn’t--still doesn’t--know is that when I tumbled into the back, my suitcase fell to the ground. All my important memories are probably now lost to the flames. I decide to cut all of that out of my story; instead I use a single sentence. “I was waiting for my parents.”

“Parents, huh?” Gordon gives me a sympathetic look. “Our parents died a few years back. Before it got too bad.”

Cassidy and Lacy are silent. Gordon recovers from news quicker, I’ve learned. He wrinkles his nose again at the approaching rain. The tires of the truck drive through puddles of mud. Water poured in where the road came apart like a fragile cookie. Billowing blackness. Maybe they’re the flowing robes of death themself. From the cloth stitched by drunken slaves, Death spreads out and blankets the soil in sin.

I read that in my Dad’s book. Him and Mom were out, leaving me alone. I poked around in their room a bit. I saw wedding photos and pills and tea cozies. All the normal parents stuff. But, in a drawer that can be easily jimmied open, was the thing they didn’t want me to see. I saw shot glasses, cigarettes, and even a picture of them in a club. But, the thing that caught my interest was a book. Stuffed at the back of the drawer. The leather binding was stained with ashes. Water had damaged the first few pages. In some parts, pieces of paper stuck up from the spine like weeds, indicating a page was ripped sloppily from it. The few paragraphs I could read were filled with descriptions of strange things. Like the taste of warm beer; or maybe the smell of metal. I kept skimming it until I saw an entry about toxic rain. I never forgot that. Now, I feel the presence of something. Something maliciously happy. A few kilometers away, a big sign indicating a big city I know too well is enduring the weather. As the world cracks and falls apart, I realize it’s time to come clean.

“Guys?” I shout over the howling of the wind.

“Yeah?” Calls Cassidy.

“Do you want to know why I was waiting with my parents?”

“Yes!” They all shout. 

Not out of excitement, but because it’s the only way I could possibly hear them.

“Okay, first, take that exit!”

Lacy shakes her head. “There’s nothing past that place! We don’t have a scrap of a chance of living!”

“I don’t want to go past the town! What I want is inside it!”

Lacy doesn't have time to be surprised. The exit's right there.

"Now!"

If there was a cop on patrol, and this were a normal day, Lacy would've t-boned a car and earned herself a fine --and maybe a lawsuit. But now, she barely makes the ramp. Cassidy and Gordon hit their faces on the dashboard. The plastic cover of their suits makes a rap sound.

"Are you okay?"

In answer, Gordon shows me his face. The window is smeared with blood. A thin, red trickle is coming from his nose. "Gotta drive, better, Lacy!"

Lacy is in such deep concentration she ignores him. "Which direction?"

"Left!"

The sound of the rushing wind is getting harder to ignore.

"What about you, Cassidy?"

Cassidy gives be the thumbs up. "I'm fine, really."

"Make a right on Mcfickle!"

Lacy does, and I see all the familiar sights. That ice cream shop had the best strawberry cones.

"Another right on Lightstin!"

A clap of thunder comes and I fall forward, almost snagging my suit. A streak of lightning shoots across the sky. Death's robes must've been expensive.

"See that ditch? Turn into it!"

"No! I'm not doing this!"

"Do you want to live or not?"

The ground is shaking again. The tires are skidding and slipping.

We all get a good look at the rough ground leading to the ditch. Dead trees block our path. Lacy says a quick prayer before sending her beloved truck over the edge.

The wheels touch down about halfway to the bottom. We all grip on for dear life as it skids to a halt.

"Where now, pessimist?" Lacy shrieks so I can pick up what she's saying.

"Here."

I jump off the truck. "Bring all your stuff with you."

My feet sink in the mud. I hope these boots are good quality.

In the middle of the ditch, A big metal pole is sticking out of the ground. It's rusted and about to collapse. On the left side, I start pushing stuff aside. Leaves and wood and dirt all come flying out behind me. My suit is dirty. It gives me memories of being a little kid. The siblings come up behind me. "What the hell are you doing, really?" Cassidy's one shows she thinks I'm crazy.

My hand touches something. I swipe away the last layer of mud. A handle protruding from a square of metal. Company logos and running graffiti plaster it. Gordon gasps. "A bunker."

I turn to them. "Well don't just stand there! Help me!"

The three of them throw their stuff down and grab the handle. The ground shakes again. We all scream as we're lifted of our knees. Landing on metal stings my legs. I ignore it. Pulling again, we hear a creak. It's open. This part, anyway. The other part requires the silver chain hung around my neck.

"Grab your stuff! Now!"

The sibling take their bags and swing them around their shoulders.

I pull it open fully. A few ladder rungs leading into nothing. Just black. "Go!" I scream.

The all descend as quickly as possible. The metal pole is swaying now. I get inside and start pulling on the door. As it closes with a click, I hear the crashing sound of the metal pole falling on the door, sad and unmovable.