BABEL
By Wayne Webb
CHAPTER 12
George watched maybe a hundred people
drown, there was no way to get to them in time, no boats were where
they were and it would have been impossible to drive to the bridge,
cross through the hundreds if not thousands of people in the, and
then get down to the water twenty or thirty feet below that. The
explosion had been set on the struts, supporting beams or whatever
those things were, George could not name. Near to the St Mary's bay
landing end, where the bridge sloped down dramatically towards the
jutting piece of land where the road turned towards the city again.
The explosions had taken out the first
set of supporting infrastructure over the water, maybe fifty feet
from the lands edge. The initial blast destroyed the supporting
beams, cracked the road surface and jolted it enough to collapse the
hold it had on the road, pushing down all it's weight onto the
weakened grip, snapping, twisting and eventually crumbling down to
the water with a splash.
The bodies of the people nearest the
blast had been thrown clear and badly hurt, but not as badly as those
who fell without the wits to swim for their lives. A minute or so
passed where the walkers, slowly progressing in the fashion the Few
watching had seen all the way to the City, walked off the edge and
into the water. From where they were they could see no thrashing or
splashing, no signs of saving themselves or others until as a unit
everyone stopped in their tracks.
Barbara (Water) began to cry, George
(Fire) could hear her behind him and thought that she was alone in
her need, it was too unbelievable, all of this, to pass it off with a
hug or a comforting embrace. This made no sense and it was
unconscionable a thing to do, and it had to be someone doing it,
right.
“It has to be someone.” George
spoke his mind out loud, something he was not fond of doing,
something he took great pains to avoid usually.
“What has to be someone?” Mountain
was hugging Tree, who was now also crying, yet he was looking over at
George, who was still staring at the bridge.
“I don't quite understand it.” He
was shaking his head.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, if they...” George (Fire)
looked around at the other three, only Water and Mountain looked back
at him, Tree still had her face buried in Mountain's shoulder, “...
the Aliens, right?”
George looked back to the bridge “If
they can control people, I mean really control people, which we have
to assume its them... right?”
The others nodded, which George felt
more than saw.
“Then it has to be someone else. I
don't understand why anyone would blow up the bridge. Why anyone
would kill all those people?”
“Who knows why they would do
anything? They're not like us, they're aliens, remember?” Barbara
(Water) had a very scared, angry scowl on her face.
“Weren't you the one all open arms
and ...” This was the longest conversation, unplanned, that they
had ever had, and the idea that they could spontaneously banter a
conversation between them that was not about solving problems or
educating through minimal means, was somehow out of reach.
“Until now. Until. This.” She
looked away and then Mountain caught George's eye and rolled his
skyward.
“No, he means that this can't have
been the Aliens, this must have been us.”
“But we...:”
“Not US, US. US – humans US.”
“No, why would we …?” And then
she caught George's original meaning, and his reasoning. “Oh, but
we do don't we?”
The three of them said no more for a
long while before Tree broke the silence.
“What if they were trying to save
them?”
“Save them by killing them?”
Barbara (Water) was less than impressed with Tree's eventual
contribution to the discussion. “Funny way to save them.”
“Unless what they were going to is a
fate worse than death.” Tree realised the cliché of that and
followed it up quickly. “Or they thought it was, I mean we can do
some stupid things when we are scared. We fight wars over nothing all
the time, right? Over less.”
Silence fell again and all four of
them, no one shedding tears any longer, stared at the bridge and the
thousands of people lined up, spread out backwards down the motorway
and up towards Lake Road, immobile and passive.
“There's a supermarket near here, I
think it's just beyond the parking bays.” Mountain pointed behind
them and they could see a parking lot with trolleys scattered helter
skelter amongst the faded white lines. “Let's see if there's
anything there, something to settle us maybe?”
The Few walked to the parking lot and
found the partially burned supermaket, it looked like it had been
fire-bombed but that only the front section had burned. George (Fire)
picked his way in through the glass and aluminium framework and
inside the market.
The inside was burned extensively for
about twenty feet and then it had stopped, like someone had spayed
soot and black paint over a section and left the remainder alone. By
the look of the charred parts it had happened some time ago, and
there were places, where there were burned outlines of things that
had been removed. Most of the market had been gutted, but as they
picked their way through the empty aisles, they found the rear of the
market had a section that had collapsed in on itself, the sunshine
pouring in through a hole above the tipped over shelves and amongst
the plaster chunks and tiles.
When they pulled pieces out they found
cans of fruit and soups, some baking goods, burst open mostly and
rained on or mixed with other debris, but enough untouched food to
make a meal for now and still have plenty left to take some supplies
back to the Community.
“We can take this back, let's load it
into the car.” George said to the others as he searched hoping for
a can opener maybe hanging on one of the shelves as a helpful “also
buy” item.
“Why?” Barbara was sounding morose.
“For the Community, I doubt that
anyone has had...” And then he caught up with Barbara's reasoning
in his own time. There was no one to take supplies back to.
They ate fruit salad from the plastic
plates they found, opening the cans with a swiss army knife that
Mountain had brought with him.
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