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Derrick glances over at me, and his eyes seem to reflect the same emotions I’m feeling. He may not say the words, but his actions speak volumes. His unwavering support, his dedication to finding my nephew, and the way he looks at me, all echo the unspoken bond between us.
Or maybe, could I be counting ghost numbers? What if he’s just being nice because of the circumstance we’d found ourselves in, together?
The world outside is a picture of chaos and despair as we walk through the devastated streets. I can’t help but notice the tears streaming down the faces of some, the frantic efforts of others trying to dig people out from beneath the rubble, and the grim procession of those carrying lifeless bodies. It’s a heartbreaking tableau of pain and loss.
We draw nearer to Alex’s school, and my heart constricts with dread. The once-familiar building now stands in ruins. I tremble, my hands quivering with each step, but I fight to hold myself together.
Derrick senses my distress. He places a comforting hand on my shoulder and speaks in a calm, soothing voice. “Amber, it’s going to be okay. We’re going to find Alex.” His reassuring words are a lifeline, and I take strength from his unwavering support.
We enter the dilapidated school grounds, and my heart continues to pound with anxiety. I can’t help but place a hand over my chest as if physically holding myself together.
As we explore the wreckage, we’re suddenly startled by a cacophony of noise from below. It’s the sound of hitting and pulling; muffled cries for help. We call out, and to our immense relief, some voices answer from beneath the debris.
A surge of elation washes over us. Derrick sprints to the street and shouts for help, attracting the attention of some young men. Together, they converge on the rubble, working diligently to remove the debris. The hope of rescuing those trapped below spurs them on.
Eventually, they clear a passage, revealing a door. As the door creaks open, a wave of emotions rushes through me. School teachers and children, their faces smudged with dust and terror, start to emerge. It’s a heartening sight, a symbol of survival amid the devastation.
My eyes scan the crowd of young faces, desperately searching for a familiar one. I watch as more kids continue to crawl out from the dark recesses of the destroyed building. With every passing second, my heart races faster, and my anxiety grows.
Derrick’s voice breaks through the commotion, his concern evident. “Amber, have you seen him?” he asks. My voice trembles as I respond with a shaky, “No.”
I keep searching, my heart pounding in my chest. My eyes dart from one child to another, their faces etched with fear and exhaustion. A gnawing fear twists in my stomach, but I can’t give in to despair. I must find Alex. I must hold onto hope.
And then, in a moment of surreal relief, I spot him. My breath catches, and I can hardly believe my eyes as Alex emerges from the back of the crowd. His eyes lock onto mine, and in a heartbeat, he’s sprinting toward me.
We meet in a fervent embrace, tears streaming down our faces. I hold him close, never wanting to let go. It’s a reunion of joy and relief, and the sheer magnitude of emotions leaves us both trembling. In that moment, amid the ruins of our world, we are together again. I wanted to scream out loud to my sister "I found him", but internally I wept with joy, so glad to have a piece of her left in my life.
Chapter Eighteen
Derrick
Theweeksfollowingthedisaster fly by in quick succession, each day blurring into the next as we attempt to piece our lives back together. Amber and I, two survivors bound by circumstance, have leaned on each other for support and have navigated the chaotic aftermath as a team.
One of the first things we did was return to Amber’s now-ruined property, searching through the debris for any remnants of her past life. We manage to salvage a few precious items, bits of history that offer some semblance of comfort in the midst of loss.
I help her relocate with Alex to a safer area up north, away from the coastal regions affected by the tsunami. It’s a small respite from the traumatic memories of the disaster, a place where she can begin to rebuild her life. It’s far from ideal, but it’s a start, a fragile step toward normalcy.
In our quest to regain some semblance of connection with the world, we obtain phones, a lifeline to the outside, a way to communicate and connect with friends and family. It’s strange how we take such mundane devices for granted until they’re stripped away, and then we appreciate their simple power to connect us.
During that time, I also returned to my house. I stay in the room with the least damage from the storm, grappling with solitude and the memories of what once was. The destruction is a harsh reminder of the tenuous nature of our existence.
Eventually, I decide to move up town, not too far from Amber’s new location. It’s not exactly by design, but a subconscious pull toward her. The proximity allows us to see each other at least—several times a week, offering a sense of companionship that we both needed in the wake of the disaster.
Life in our new reality is far from perfect. There’s no denying the scars left by the catastrophe, both physical and emotional. Yet, together, Amber, Alex, and I are learning to navigate the challenges and find hope in the unlikeliest of places.
It’s a hot afternoon today. I’m putting something together for Amber. It’s very taxing, but I’m doing it anyway. She doesn’t at all know, and I’m hoping to keep it a secret. This one would be a massive surprise for her, giving her a complete 360° turn.
After a routine glass of water, I retrieve my phone to find an email notification. The sender’s name catches my eye, and my heart skips a beat. Felix Freeman. My father, a man I haven’t seen or heard from in over fifteen years. I’m bewildered. How? What? Why? So many questions swirl in my mind as I hesitate, contemplating whether to open the message.
Finally, curiosity gets the better of me, and I open the email. I sit down in the nearest chair, my fingers trembling as I read the words my father has left behind. I wonder what exactly he would be reaching out to me for. The memories I have of him start swimming in. I look at my phone, scrolling through the messages.
Dear Derrick,
The initial shock of seeing his words on the screen begins to fade, and I allow his message to sink in. My father’s email carries an air of profound sincerity, an urgency that compels me to read every word.
I hope this message finds you in good health. It has been far too long since we last spoke, and I regret the years of silence that have separated us. I understand that my actions in the past caused you great pain, and for that, I am truly sorry.
His apology is a revelation, something I never expected to hear from him. My grip on the phone tightens as I continue reading.
