Falls

The sign over the door still said the house was for sale. Callie remembered the day the man from the estate agent’s came to put it up; his squeaking, rusty ladder brought her to the window and she watched him climb up, struggling with the sign. His shoes were dirty although he hadn’t been in the garden and his trousers were splattered with mud. At the time Callie considered telling her husband that she had changed her mind, that she didn’t want to leave any more but in the end she never said a word. It was too late now of course. Everything was gone; the estate agent, the house-buyers, surely the man with the rusty ladder. Her husband. There the sign still hung, wind-worn and faded, but still there. Beneath it the window she’d stood at that day presented an empty room to the empty street, the panes smashed, fragments of glass scattered and glinting on the floor like tears.

Callie was outside on the pavement when Orm arrived, carrying wood with which to board up the window.

‘Hello Orm.’

He smiled shyly and without reply started work on the window. Callie watched him silently for a while, his large, fleshy back bobbing up and down as he picked up the boards, sweating almost immediately with the effort. The hammering thundered and echoed into the quiet streets. Orm turned, round head turreting upon round body, and looked embarrassed at the noise he was making.

‘It’s okay,’ Callie said.

She was sure no-one was close enough to hear. There hadn’t been anyone around for weeks. Not that she had seen anyway. Whoever smashed the window was long gone when she returned from The Village two days later but there was no way of knowing if the damage was done two days or just five minutes ago. On the path Callie froze and looked nervously around but saw no-one lurking. Eventually the fear that her few remaining possessions had been looted overcame her fear of the looter still being inside and she ran in, knife gripped in her hand. There was no-one inside, nor any sign that there had been. In the back room where she kept her belongings everything was undisturbed; just someone smashing the window because it was one of the few still intact.

Afterwards she stood staring out through the jagged teeth of the window at the devastated buildings around her. The world looked devoured and Callie felt lonely and sad for the first time in months, probably since the initial shock of the disaster which swept the old world away. She cursed herself for feeling so and set to work cleaning up the glass.

Today life seemed better. Orm whistled behind her, an out-of-tune, forgotten song, happy in his task and she found him a comforting presence. Callie looked up at the sky, shimmering with the blue and silver streaks of light that now signalled the oncoming sunset. The sun shone deeply blue through the thick atmosphere. She watched the sky go through its daily motions, layer upon layer of colour mixing and absorbing into a glorious panorama. It was still beautiful, the sky, as beautiful as it had always been. In the distance several of the new species of bird swooped and soared, enormous wings swirling the yellow vaporous air around them. A vortex of current began to spread across the horizon and, by the time Orm had finished hammering and stood obediently at Callie’s side, a glorious ring of many colours whirled around the whole skyline, miles long in circumference.

‘Pretty.’

‘Come on, Orm,’ Callie said, after checking the house was locked and Orm still had the hammer, ‘we need to hurry. Gart will be waiting.’

She took his hand, sweaty and rough with the work he had done. At first they skirted the main streets, avoiding the Old Town buildings and the narrow, dark doorways with their buried darkness. Best to be safe, Callie thought. Orm followed dutifully, no longer having to be told to keep up and be quiet. He’d as soon run at the sight of a stranger but Orm’s sheer size made Callie feel protected; from a distance appearances counted for a lot. The streets were quiet however and they encountered no-one. It was hard going. The layers of dust continually circulating in the air gathered in large drifts on the street and made breathing laboured when outside for a long time. Callie waded through it, pulling Orm with her. Crumbling buildings around them had long been looted of anything worthwhile, back when there were still people wandering around, holding out the foolish hope the world would return to what it had been before. Once she had overcome the initial shock Callie never joined them and couldn’t honestly say she was unhappy now with their new world. It seemed strange to her that even though she missed her husband and family she was more content now than ever before. Nor did she feel guilty for it.

They were at the large junction in the Old Town Square, looking up White Street when Callie thought she saw someone in a doorway. She froze. Orm, oblivious, bumped into her but she kept her balance and stared unblinkingly towards the doorway. There was definitely someone or something lurking within.

‘Callie. Are you okay?’

‘Shhh!’

Callie reached back, her eyes fixed on the doorway, and put her hand over Orm’s mouth. She felt a mixture of spittle and sweat in her palm and could feel him trembling. Come on, Orm, she thought, this is when I need you to at least look frightening. At least he still had the hammer.

‘Ouch.’

She jumped a little, more in surprise than pain as something landed heavily on her toe. Orm had dropped the hammer.

‘Sorry,’ she felt him mumble under her hand.

A movement in the doorway, unmistakably, near the ground. Perhaps a foot but it looked more like some sort of fabric; the hem of someone’s coat or trousers, a bag they may be carrying. It snapped back out of sight, and Callie heard the crack of the material. She reached slowly down for the hammer, having to take her hand off Orm’s mouth. In the dust her fingers closed around the handle but all the time her eyes were on the doorway. Other possibilities crossed her mind. If it was a person then they would probably be just as frightened of them. People kept themselves now. Likewise it couldn’t be a dog or it would have attacked straight away. She hadn’t seen a dog in a long time and never wanted to see another, remembering the terror of the many months when they roamed the streets, feral, vicious and always hungry

Callie stood with the hammer in her hand. A minute or more passed by and nothing happened. Callie began to doubt herself. It could just be debris in the doorway, discarded clothing, a black bag, a curtain, anything. But she noticed there was almost no wind. Slowly she looked around them and in the corner of her eye saw Orm doing the same. There could be a back way out of that building and she didn’t want to be ambushed from behind. The street was still deserted behind them.

‘Lets go, Orm,’ she said, deliberately no longer whispering, ‘we need to hurry.’

Orm took her hand. They cut down the adjacent street and through the rubble of buildings could see directly into the doorway on White Street. It was empty. No lurking figure, no debris. They kept moving.

Orm was tiring but Callie urged him on, past all the buildings now filled only with dust and the past. It was odd, thought Callie, how quickly and incredibly things could change and yet how quickly they could carry on. Of course many people did just give up. She remembered the streets in the first weeks, swarming with people. To start with they were confused, then fearful and angry, then violent and desperate. Looking for help that never came. Catastrophe was indiscriminate in its destruction and the authorities and would-be rescuers were not spared. Callie remembered seeing some policemen on the streets attempting to take control, assuring the crowds that everything would be okay. Soldiers appeared too but gradually, almost one by one, then vanished or just became like the rest of the needy and lost, discovering that their uniforms counted for very little in this new world. She noticed fewer and fewer people on the streets. One day, from the top of a tall building, she watched a huge group, thousands, tens of thousands, in number, leaving the city to go south through the hills. Packed together tightly, as if fearful of falling behind or getting lost, they looked like a massive, black footprint slowly moving over the land. At least a year had passed and she never saw them again.

After that, days, maybe weeks, she passed alone, staying in her house a lot. All other buildings lost their former meaning; shops, churches, offices, cinemas. Every one became a place to hide in or avoid. You could never really be sure which was which so staying away from them became Callie’s policy. There were bodies on the street at the beginning, lying in the dust. Many appeared on the steps of former churches; suddenly one day they would be there as if leaving themselves in offering. It did no discernable good. The dust made the bodies decompose very quickly and clogged the streets until they were inaccessible. Callie remained confined to her house or stranded out at Gart’s house, sometimes only for days but on several occasions weeks passed before the winds came and emptied the streets of everything, living and dead. In the tower Callie observed, as best she could, two separate storms cleaving through the city; winds forcing their way in like rivers, the air so visibly thick with colour she could watch the various currents converge and mix. Soon it became so incredibly dense nothing more could be seen. When the storm finally ceased the streets were blank once more.

Callie had met Orm and The Professor in the hospital buildings several months before. She’d returned there for supplies after hurting herself in a fall. Surprised to find so much still intact she was wary after discovering the two men. Mostly, strangers meant trouble but The Professor helped her and said he used to work in the hospital. Callie believed him though not recognising him from her own time there. It seemed so long ago. They introduced her to Gart, lying sick in a house not far away, and convinced her to stay for a while where she helped nurse the sick man back to health. The company also did her good. Gart had set up the house and other nearby buildings as a meeting place for all those who resolved to help rebuild. It was soon named The Village. People came and went. Callie still liked to spend some time back in her old home.

They were clear of the Old Town and the sky was at the height of its colour, an orchestra of light playing above them. Orm stood transfixed as it became like a sea, ebbing and flowing in waves. They were now almost directly below where the birds had caused the massive flux of light. Callie and Orm looked up at the slowly rotating circle of light, still visible for miles but darker now against the incredible sunset. Its apex formed into a funnel through which the moon was revealed. Both gasped at the sight of its cold, white face suddenly framed in the middle of the kaleidoscopic sky. Callie hadn’t seen the moon for years. It was beautiful enough to cry at.

Outside the compound Gart stood waiting for them, propped up on his crutches, his left leg missing below the knee. He looked well, Callie thought. Gart winked at her and nodded towards Orm. Callie smiled.

By a bonfire The Professor and some others were standing, cooking food over the flames. The fire seemed almost muted against the dazzle of the sunset as Orm ran excitedly towards them.

‘He doesn’t suspect a thing.’ Callie said once Orm was out of earshot.

‘Good. We needed something to celebrate, so why not a birthday.’

‘Have you any idea what age he is?’

‘Not at all. It’s almost certainly not his birthday anyway but it’s good to have an occasion like this from time to time. And I think Orm will enjoy it more than anyone else would.’

They watched as Orm was welcomed at the bonfire, The Professor, with a hand on Orm’s shoulder, said something. Callie and Gart were too far away to hear but they saw everyone laugh. Then from a sack on the ground The Professor took a parcel and handed it to Orm.

Callie always found The Professor slightly evasive when questioned as to what exactly he was a professor of. It was one of the first things she asked him. In return she received vague statements regarding research and academia and almost convincing sophistry when asked to give his account of what had caused the disaster. Whatever The Professor had been previously he was now a valuable asset to their little group of survivors. Along with Gart he was largely responsible for the creation of The Village and helping to generate new hope amongst those who chose to stick around. Callie liked him despite, or maybe because of, his blustering, off-hand manner and it was he who summed up best for Callie all that had befallen them. One evening several months ago they were sitting in one of the houses, all having been drinking a little, and someone once again asked The Professor to give his interpretation of events. Callie couldn’t remember who asked him, some now faceless and nameless woman who had come and gone.

For a while The Professor mumbled on, taking much time to say little at all.

‘But tell us, Professor,’ the woman asked again, trying to pin him down, ‘what do you think caused it?’

Perhaps the whisky he gulped down had an effect but when The Professor spoke once more his voice was far calmer and clearer.

‘Well, the great apocalypse was nothing like anyone expected, was it? The sky didn’t suddenly open up and throw fire down upon our cities, there was no plague or nuclear winter. I’d say it was a very impassive catastrophe. That morning our world was just lazily wiped out, no hellfire and fury, just the Earth changing quickly but calmly like a page being turned over. We’d always come to expect God’s wrath or Nature’s violent revenge but it was neither really. Of course millions died and we all, including myself, lost people dear to us. But it did not have the correct…’ he paused, searching for the right word, ‘…the correct aesthetic, perhaps. Where did all the dead go, all our loved ones? Just vanished in the dust. No rotting, bloated bodies to have to bury, no real connection with the scale of the tragedy. It was like a waiter brushing off a table. As if the planet was doing a menial duty it cared little for while we all expected it to attack the job of carrying out oblivion with ferocity.’ He gave a little laugh. ‘As if it hadn’t happened many times before. The world has stubbornly adopted a new persona and pretended it has always been this way. Changed so utterly that children born since then can look around and believe the world has always been thus. The dust is wearing down the buildings, the new sky looks permanent and we all scurry around under it unable to go back.’

The Professor got up from where he sat and walked to the table to pour himself another drink. When he spoke again he still had his back to the rest of the room.

‘The permanence of the change lays the past to waste. At this time at least we cannot explain it, perhaps future archaeologists will be able to but our job is simply to settle for the present and help make that future happen.’

‘I’m glad you could come, Callie,’ Gart said, interrupting her thoughts.

She paused, turning from the bonfire. ‘Things are looking good around here.’

‘Yep. Running water, an electricity supply, rationed of course, and the food situation has never been better.’

‘I can see that.’

‘What do you mean?’ Gart asked, faking shock.

‘You’re getting fat.’ He laughed. ‘Well you are. But looking healthier too. Your face isn’t as thin as it was, and your arms too, look at the muscles.’

‘Well, that’s what comes from having to haul myself around on these damn things,’ he nodded at the crutches.

Callie seemed thinner since Gart last saw her. She was small and thin enough to begin with, short blonde hair, ragged and roughly cut, but her face was not an unhappy one nor overly marked by hardship. Brightly lit with large eyes her face was almost angelic, thought Gart, with lips that hadn’t forgotten how to smile. But secrets were still hidden behind there.

Callie put her hand on his shoulder.

‘Come inside,’ he said softly, turning himself around.

With the thick curtains drawn the darkness inside was disorientating after the brightness of the sunset. Gart flicked the light switch on and grinned as the naked bulb on the ceiling glowed dimly. Callie smiled and sat down on the couch. Around the room were piles of The Professor’s books and journals, plus spare parts for the machinery, tools and everything else salvaged from the city.

‘Sorry, I’ll have to put this off. Save electricity.’

In the dark room they were alone once more, Gart using his mangled body as best he could and she remembering the last normal night before the world changed so strangely. Then they were together again, tearful and happy and whispering words uttered and kept in the dark.

The bonfire was just embers when they left the house and the others had gone indoors. They walked to the cliff, she going slowly as he did his best to keep up over the rocky ground. Beneath them were the waterfalls. When the tsunamis had risen, tearing away miles of the land, this bay was created, into which the multi-coloured falls flowed. Surrounding it were the high cliffs of recently exposed primeval rock, stained and splashed by the water falling into the bay. It tumbled and rolled, heavy but with the smooth appearance of silk, mostly in shades of orange and red but when the weather was colder it became almost blue again. Callie thought their fall looked like a dance.

On the edge Callie and Gart held hands, he leaning in to her, as they stared out over the vast sea.

‘You should stay. We’re making something here, you can see that. This is the start. And under this sky…’ He gestured, unable to say more, seemingly close to tears and closed his eyes.

The falls crashed below them, their roar dulled by the thick air. Callie nodded in reply.