Shades of Grey
“This won’t hurt at all, I promise,” said the man.
“Promise?” The small boy’s eyes were solemn.
“Promise,” he agreed. “Who do you like better Spiderman or Scooby-doo?” He swiftly injected the needle while he was talking. The boy didn’t even flinch.
“Scooby.”
“Okay-- here you go.” He smoothed on a sticker where the needle had been. “All finished.”
“Really?” The boy looked at him now his face bright.
“Yep.”
The boy slid off the paper covered bench. “I can go now?”
“You sure can.” The doctor stood and opened the door for the boy, smiling. “Your mom will be in the waiting room.”
The boy walked shyly to the door. “Thank you,” he said looking at the floor.
The doctor laughed and ruffled his hair. “Run along now, before I have to give you a really big needle.”
The boy glanced up at him and scurried through the door into the waiting room. The doctor laughed again and shut the door.
* * *
The young woman ran her hand through her spiky, dyed hair. Her eyes were narrowed in resentment. She pulled a cigar package out of her skirt pocket, flipped the carton opened and pulled one out. It was the last one.
“Can I borrow that?” She spoke around the cigar clamped in her mouth, and gestured to the lighter the man was holding. He nodded and handed it to her, turning back to his conversation.
She was at her usual haunt during the night¾a packed bar. Although she was alone which was unusual.
The place was packed, the music throbbing through the speakers¾ the hum of conversation and clinking of glasses was subdued by it. She glanced at the table on the other side of the room again. A young woman was laughing and teasing the man she was sitting with¾ a man she shouldn’t be.
She took another puff of her cigar, and started walking towards them. She picked up an untouched bottle of beer that was sitting at a vacant table. She stopped, she was at their table and they hadn’t noticed. She reached over them and ground her cigarette into the ash tray that was sitting on their table. A small, false smile was playing on her lips.
The table’s occupants stopped their conversation and looked up at her. At first irritation was reflected on their faces, but it slipped away and was replaced with surprise and guilt as they recognized her.
She deliberated, enjoying their discomfort.
“Rhea…” the man began slowly.
“You’ve never introduced me to this friend of yours,” Rhea said her voice full of misleading cheer. She twisted the lid of the bottle of beer, and tossed it aside, she didn’t drink any of it though.
He was mumbling something, and the girl looked away her eyes tight with annoyance.
Rhea raised an eyebrow at him, “Uh-huh.”
Rhea lifted the bottle of beer over the man’s head and poured it out. Its contents streamed down his face and darkened his hair and clothing. She picked up the girl’s glass and threw its contents into her face. She ignored the small scream of rage from the woman; the man was rising out of his seat now his face contorted in anger. Rhea started walking back the way she came.
“Have a nice night,” she called over her shoulder before she disappeared into the crowd.
* * *
Thud.
James rolled over, pulling his heavy quilt more snugly around him.
Thud.
He groaned, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. It sounded like the beginning of a thunderstorm outside, but it couldn’t be because it was the wrong time of year and day.
Thud.
He opened his eyes. Everything seemed to be as it was supposed to be. The cheap motel curtains hung limply from the wall. The television’s blue light was blinking, and the clock’s numbers glowed an eerie green; it read six in the morning.
He rolled out of bed and pressed the power button on the TV before sitting down on the edge of it again. It turned automatically to the local news station.
“Our sources don’t know who started the bombing--” The screen was showing an aerial view of the city—burning buildings, a thick cloud of dust rising from the ruins, and very few people.
Thud.
Another explosion obliterated a building off to the right side of the camera’s view and it swiveled around to focus on it, showing a bank that was reduced to nothing in a blast of red and orange.
James stared at the screen a moment trying to absorb what was happening before something clicked in his mind. He grabbed his cell phone off the side table. Frantically he tried to dial his house number. He got it wrong twice; he closed his eyes for a second taking a deep breath before trying again more slowly. He pressed the green send button and raised the phone to his ear with his eyes closed.
He snapped the phone shut. The line was dead.
* * *
Rhea pulled her hood over her head and her shirt around her mouth and nose. Another wave of dust engulfed her; masking her brightly colored clothing in a covering of grime.
Coughing, she ran with her head down out onto the street. She knew that this was a bad idea because it made her an easy target for danger, but she needed somewhere, anywhere to hide.
The bombing had started with the sunrise. Rhea had been sleeping in a shadowy alleyway, using her coat as a blanket. She was woken up when the warehouse on the other side of the street had been eradicated. Its ruins scattered all across the road. A city transit bus had skidded into the wreckage and overturned. The screaming of the passengers had been muffled by their metal coffin. Slowly their voices dwindled, leaving the area quiet again except for the faint sounds of bombs going off in the distance.
Rhea saw an old store its sign read ‘Vintage Records.’ Without thinking she threw herself through the door. All stores like these were bound to have basements and she quickly found the stairs that lead down to her temporary haven. There was another crash and rumble that sounded like it was just across the street. Rhea hurtled down the stairs two at a time. She crawled into the corner behind the stairs, pulled her knees up to her chest and closed her eyes.
* * *
James impatiently tapped the button the elevator. He stood waiting for a long moment, his eyes flickering around edgily. A door slammed up the hallway and soft footsteps were heading down the hallway toward the elevator.
James turned around and his eyes settled on the newcomer. It was an older man with thick glasses, his graying hair was standing on end and his button up shirt was rumpled.
“Hello,” the man said. “The elevator-- is it working?”
James shrugged and picked up his bags. “I don’t think so and I’m not going to waste anymore time.” He nodded to the man and started off towards the stairs.
The man mumbled something and shuffled after him. They walked down the stairs without speaking; both of their thoughts consumed by what was happening to their city. When they had nearly reached the bottom of the stairs they finally noticed the low hum of voices, and the even fainter voices and vehicles from outside. James hurried the rest of the way down with the man close behind him.
The main lobby was occupied by several people. All of them looked to be families with small children. Outside the road was backed up with traffic, all headed the same way-- out of the city. Some of the vehicles had been abandoned motors still running, doors left open; the passengers having chosen to weave through the sluggish traffic on foot.
James walked over to one of the families that were still in the lobby¾the ruffled looking man was still following uncertainly after him.
“Is everybody else gone?” James asked the tired looking father. His wife was sitting on one of the leather couches with her eyes closed and her arm around their small daughter.
“I don’t know,” the father said. “People come down and leave every little while.” His eyes softened as he looked at his dozing wife and daughter. “We’re still here because the daughter is too tired to walk and so are we.” His eyes drifted back to James as he spoke.
“Why don’t you just take one of the abandoned cars?” the man with the glasses said.
“It doesn’t make any difference whether you’re driving or sitting in here ‘cause you ain’t going nowhere. It’s just comfier in here.”
James nodded and thanked him while shaking his hand. He walked outside and looked towards the city. It was hard to see through all the dust and smoke, but its faint outline was still there.
“So what do you think you’re going to do?” said that glasses man, “by the way my names Rick.”
“Well I have a family somewhere on the other side of the city, so I guess I’m going to find them.”
Rick nodded and watched the people go by. “I guess I’ll just follow these people north, I have a brother up there who I can stay with.”
“Well good luck.”
“You’re going to be needing it more than me.” Rick offered him a small smile before turning and walking towards the road to follow the fleeing people. He was whistling and had his hands shoved in his pockets as he turned his back on James and the city.
* * *
Rhea waited for what must have been at least three hours until there wasn’t the sound of any more bombs. She couldn’t hear anything. She crawled out of her hiding place¾her cramped muscles sending shooting pains through her legs. When she got to the upper levels she couldn’t see out of the windows because of the haze outside and grime covering them. Cautiously she opened the door, and stepped out.
Some of the buildings were still smoking—oozing smoke from their remains like a dying person oozes blood. Distant yells and screams drifted faintly over the ruins. Tendrils of dust drifted over the devastated city enveloping it in a thin, grimy blanket. Vehicles were overturned and scattered—a graveyard; not showing the death but you knew it was there, haunting the dark shadows. A bicycle lay on its side, wheels spinning slowly in the wind creaking on every turn. A doll’s arm and face peered out from under a blackened board; half its face was charred and melted, what would have been a smile was now a distorted leer.
She swallowed, steeling herself. This wouldn’t be too difficult; all she had to do is find a way out of the city as quickly as possible.
She stepped carefully through the wreckage slowly heading north along the street. She wasn’t sure where she was going because the thick dust and smoke hid everything.
* * *
James strode down the road. He could still hear the faint booming of the bombs, but it was becoming fewer and farther between. By the time the sun was high in the sky, glaring faintly through the mask of clouds they had stopped altogether. There were no birds, no cars, nothing—just dead silence.
It was about two in the afternoon, he guessed, when he got into the city. He’d left the motel hours ago; by the time he had reached the sign that announced the city limit’s the long line of traffic had disappeared, leaving more abandoned cars in its wake. He could feel the dull horror that was radiating from his face. Buildings that had once stretched up reaching for the sky were now crumbled on the ground with dust settled on their remains. There were smoking cars strewn all across the street the glass from their windows shattered on the ground.
He was distracted from all the wreckage by a muffled curse from beneath a pile of wooden framing.
“Hello?” he called uncertainly.
“Yeah! A little help would be nice.” It was a female voice—a very annoyed female voice.
“Just a second!” he yelled.
He grabbed the nearest protruding beam and pulled. His hands slipped and several splinters broke off into his hands. He let go and muttered under his breath, pulling them out quickly.
He pulled his sleeves over his hands and tried again; the wood groaned as it shifted and a small cloud of dust shot into the air. He stopped taking a deep breath before he heaved pulled again—pulling the beam halfway out.
“It’s good, stop now!” she shouted at him.
He let go and put his hands on his knees, taking deep breaths.
A hand shoved the gravel and bricks out of the gap where the wood beam had been. The hand was followed by an arm and then a body. The woman crawled out on her hands and knees, coughing heavily. James straightened up and offered her his hands. She ignored it and hauled herself to her feet using the beam that he had pulled out.
“Are you alright?” James asked.
“Yep. Perfect,” she snapped. She dusted off her pants and started walking down the road without a backward glace.
“Hey,” he said keeping in step with her, “wait.”
“Why?” She didn’t look back. “I wanna be out of this hellhole before night.” She didn’t look at him when she spoke.
“Maybe we can help each other,” he said. “It seems like we’re headed the same way.”
“I don’t need any help.”
“You just did,” he pointed out.
“I was fine—just resting for a minute.”
James sighed. “It didn’t look like resting.”
She stopped and spun around to face him eyes flashing. “Why don’t you just leave me the hell alone and why are you following me?”
“I’m not. I’m just headed the same way you are.” He tried to hide a small smile.
She glared at him and kept walking.
“So do you live around here?” James asked.
She watched the ground pass beneath her feet.
“Do you have any family where you’re headed?”
She scratched her nose, and glanced at a half crumbled bank.
James kept in step beside her occasionally asking her random questions which she wouldn’t answer.
Claudette pointed out the main things that I noticed. I really didn't get the 3/4 parts, maybe you just put that instead of a comma?
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