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Around us, the chaos worsens, as if the world itself has turned against us. Objects collide, and the earth shudders with each monstrous wave. Amber’s words become frantic, a lament of fear and uncertainty. “How can we stay strong in this, Derrick? What hope can we hold onto when everything is falling apart? The buildings are crashing, will this building hold? I mean how do we know we're safe up here?"
I turn to her, my eyes locked onto hers as I muster all the conviction I can find. “Hope is all we have, Amber. It’s what keeps us going in times like this. We must believe that we’ll get through this, that Alex is safe, and that you’ll be reunited with him. It’s not even twenty minutes yet, and we're safe for now, We can’t lose hope now.”
But Amber’s frustration mounts, and she cries out in desperation. “What good is hope, Derrick, when it feels like the world is ending? I need to know that Alex is safe. I need answers. I need something real!”
I wrap my arms around her, holding her close, as if my embrace alone could shield her from the turmoil around us. Immediately, I place her as far from the edge of the roof as possible, her back to a wall. The noise around us grows deafening, the building groaning under the relentless force of nature. The beams creak, and I can feel the walls quivering. We’re trapped in a nightmare, a world collapsing around us.
Amber’s voice quivers, and her eyes fill with tears. “Derrick, please, tell me what’s happening. Is this the end?”
I lean ahead to listen to the noises under us, my mind calculating our chances of survival.
I can’t bring myself to answer her with words that echo her fears. Instead, I grip hold of her hand tighter and respond with a resolve that I hope will reassure her. “Amber, we don’t know what’s happening, but we’re going to make it through this. We’re going to find Alex. You have to believe me.”
The rooftop feels like our sanctuary in a world turned chaotic. For now, it’s the only place that provides a shred of safety. And within these walls, I hope I’d be able to do everything I can to keep Amber calm, to hold onto hope, and to assure not just her, but us.
I reach out to turn on the entrance door light as the day darkens. The bulb comes on with a weak light, dimly lighting the area around the door. The cool, concrete walls are painted a pale shade, lending a sense of space to the room. A series of support beams run along the ceiling, showcasing their robustness like vigilant sentinels. An old, heavy wooden door stands as the last defense between them and the chaos outside.
Racks and shelves line the walls, each bearing the weight of forgotten possessions, tools, and supplies, now cast into eerie silhouettes by the feeble rooftop lighting. Dust motes dance in the air, suspended in the dimness. I haven’t been up here in a while. Thank goodness it’s at least good enough to give us safety for some time.
In one corner, a collection of camping gear and emergency supplies is neatly arranged, a testament to my preparation for unforeseen events. Stacks of bottled water and non-perishable food items in a black navy seal duffle bag ready for crisis and serving as a lifeline in times of uncertainty.
Amber and I sit on the dimly lit rooftop floor, surrounded by the dirty water and debris, her petrified eyes fixed on the water, and the residual effects of the tsunami. I can sense the tension and unease hanging heavy in the air. Amber’s pallid face and quivering lips say it all; she’s scared, and that fear seems to be inching its way into her temper.
She spits out a terse demand, not minding my presence, her voice sharp. “Is there water?”
I rise, my footsteps echoing as I make my way toward where I had stored the supplies. I grab a bottle and bring it back to her. My expectation, however, falls flat as she snatches the bottle from my grasp without a hint of gratitude.
My patience, which was already wearing thin, gives way. “At least a thank you would do,” I mutter, my words laced with irritation.
Amber suddenly raises her head, her fury blazing in her eyes as she locks her gaze onto mine. The atmosphere up here grows even tenser. She opens her mouth and unleashes a torrent of accusations, her words carrying the weight of her emotions. “How can you be so inconsiderate, hard-hearted, and unsentimental,” she lashes out. “The world is falling apart, and all you can think of is receiving a thank you?”
I can’t let her words go unanswered. Frustration bubbles within me, and I retort, “The world is falling apart, yes, and you could have been falling apart with it, but someone rescues you, and the best you can come up with is anything but a thank you?”
Our voices escalate in a slightly heated exchange, each word holding a weight of its own as Amber’s hoarse voice stands above mine. The woman, once a stranger I welcomed into my home on a whim, now confronts me with a storm of frustration and discontent. I can’t help but notice the irony in the situation.
My remark takes a more sarcastic tone as I can’t help but give voice to my frustration. “It’s beautiful to see you act off-script, Amber. At least now, I know what you’re really like.”
We continue to pour our pent-up frustrations out onto each other, the argument echoing off the walls, each word a reflection of the tumultuous emotions roiling beneath the surface. The swishing water around us is nothing compared to the storm of emotions brewing between us. I reflect on what really pushed me to get Amber to safety. I almost want to regret it, but I try to get calm.
I get myself together and move some distance away from Amber. I crouch to the ground and wonder what actually went on. I look back at Amber, and she’s still crouched, head between her knees. From where I am, I can hear her uncalculated breathing. She’s probably thinking like I am—if this would all end fine. She looks calmed, but I don’t feel entirely sorry for her, at this moment.
A heavy thud resounds from somewhere beneath us. I notice Amber’s involuntary shiver, a clear indication of her fear. It’s at that moment that my thoughts are whisked away, descending into the depths of a memory long buried by the sands of time.
I find myself back in a time when I was still a Navy SEAL, a period etched with indelible scars. It was a mission, just like any other, or so we thought. That night was filled with ear-shattering explosions and the incessant chatter of gunfire. My comrades and I were in the midst of it all, moving with precision and determination, when a series of bombings rocked our world.
Two of my closest friends, comrades who had stood beside me in countless battles, fell victim to the relentless violence. As their lifeless bodies lay beside me, I had no choice but to feign death, to mimic their stillness and hope it would keep me hidden from the enemy’s watchful eyes.
The minutes stretched into eternities as I lay there, contemplating my own fate. My pulse drummed loudly in my ears; each beat a countdown to what felt like impending doom. I wondered if this was how it would end, a somber yet resolute acceptance of fate.
But against all odds, the relentless onslaught eventually ceased. The enemies moved on, and I emerged from my morbid sanctuary, haunted by the ghosts of those I had lost that night. It was a narrow escape, a dance with death that left a permanent mark on my soul.
The weight of those memories still linger. I can’t help but wonder if the feeling of impending catastrophe, is how I’m currently feeling. I’ve survived battles and perilous situations before but the way all this has crouched in, has brought an entirely new form of dread. It’s a sensation that consumes me, challenging my facade of strength, and reminding me of the fragility of life in the most profound way.
I glance back at Amber, and she remains in the same petrified position. She turns her gaze toward me, and I quickly avert my eyes, choosing instead to stretch out on the basement floor. My head rests on my palms, hands stacked one over the other, as I close my eyes, drifting into a restless slumber.
In the world of dreams, I’m transported back to my childhood, to a time when I was just a small, vulnerable boy. In the ethereal landscape of my subconscious, I see my father. He’s approaching me with a menacing metal rod clutched in his hands, and a storm of rage in his eyes. I had been running from him, fleeing as fast as my little legs could carry me until there was no more escape. My back pressed firmly against a cold, unforgiving wall, and I cried out desperately, “Please!” The memories of that childhood fear, etched into my psyche, continue to haunt me, even as I traverse the realm of dreams.
He doesn’t stop his charge toward me, as soon as he is close, he raises the rod and strikes my side severely. Just then, I immediately awake to find someone tapping my side. I’m not yet fully separated from my trance, so I feel I’m still in the same bewilderment, and I scream at Amber, "Get your hands off of me" and swing my arm out as a defense mechanism. Once I realize that it’s Amber, I try to apologize quickly. But before I can say much of anything, she begins to crawl back to where she was.
