Chapter_5
Christine’s body jolted as her subconscious mind willed herself to awaken. She uttered, “Benjamin.” A trickle of light shining through the debris and dust next to her were the only indication that she was alive.
“Benjamin,” she attempted to yell but began to gag in the process. The air seemed to burn her throat with every breath. Her body also ached as she started to slip from her safe haven under the desk.
“Christine?” a feeble voice echoed from the rubble next to her.
“Murph?” she answered, suddenly forgetting about the pain. “Murph!” Christine yelled. “Are you alright?”
The rubble began to move, and a hand reached out from underneath and grabbed her knee. “I got you,” Christine uttered, putting her hand over his.”
As the rubble shifted, more light shone down. What was once a cool morning had turned into a bright, humid afternoon. The heat and sun soothed her body, providing it with the needed strength to continue.
Christine rose to her knees and began to push some of the rubble and debris to the side, creating a narrow passage for her escape. Hoping also to get some of it off Murph, she threw pieces of wood to the side, freeing up some of his body in the process.
“Try to stand,” Christine implored her friend as she made her way out from underneath the desk. Grabbing Murph’s hand, she attempted to pull him to his feet.
She noted how bloodied his arm looked now in the light and hoped the rest of him had fared better. Because the collapse of the building was so sudden, she was surprised that both of them had managed to survive the destruction.
“A little more,” she willed aloud, seeing more and more of his body appear from underneath the rubble.
Murph pushed a piece of wood off his torso. The relief it provided was instantaneous. As more light trickled through the debris, he saw two long support beams that had fallen during the earthquake about a half-foot above him. Instead of crushing him, Murph concluded that they must have created a small safe space for him to escape the brunt of the building’s collapse, thus saving his life.
“That’s it!” Christine coached as she helped Murphy climb out of the debris.
Though battered and covered with white dust, he looked much better than expected. A few dried-up patches of blood on the side of his neck were the only other noticeable injuries.
Taking off his badly torn and ripped jacket, he threw it on the ground and looked towards the door where he had entered the room. It was no longer standing; only a pile of debris remained in its place. The more Murph surveyed the area, the more he realized that the entire museum was leveled. Nothing had survived.
The once great edifice with priceless works of antiquity had been destroyed. Only support beams and concrete poles stood as silent witnesses of the past. What shocked Murph even more was that he and Christine appeared to be the sole survivors left standing among the ruins.
“Benjamin!” Christine cried aloud, reaching the same conclusion. “Anyone!” she yelled while touching her auricular chip, hoping for any answer. Instead, only the roaring sound of the Susquehanna below and the chirp of a lone bird responded to her calls.
Stumbling on the rubble, Christine retraced her steps. She also continued to yell Benjamin’s name as if it would make him and everyone else suddenly appear.
To her distress, the room where they were once barricaded was completely gone.
“Murph!” she yelled in horror. “What happened?”
Standing at the edge of the rubble, Christine saw that half the building, including the ground underneath it, must have collapsed into the earth. Looking straight down she noted how the Susquehanna River, which previously flowed a quarter of a mile away from the museum, now ran directly below her.
Its torrents were ruff and billowed with foam and debris. With revulsion, Christine observed dead bodies floating in the mix. The small river now looked like a large bay, sprawling for miles.
Christine dropped to one knee and began to cry. Though she was relieved to be alive, her victory over death now felt hollow. She had lost so much over the past few years. What The New Reality had not stolen, Mother Nature had taken. Christine’s body shook with grief.
Murph placed his hand on her shoulder. He wished there was something he could say to console her, but he knew he would only make things worse by putting the unspeakable into words.
His gruff, blunt attitude would certainly not provide Christine with the solace she needed. Plus, he, too, felt an overwhelming sense of dread, as if death was waiting at the next turn.
Murph turned back and looked out into the heart of Philadelphia. In their haste to locate their colleagues, the true devastating consequences of the earthquake had been lost on him. The city, like the museum, lay in complete ruin. The once beautiful skyline which only hours before had risen out of the earth as if attempting to touch heaven itself had been destroyed much like that of the Tower of Babel.
Water flowed through the street while cars, debris, and dead bodies lay in piles along the side of the once great buildings. From atop the mound on which the museum once stood, Murph felt like a castaway on a remote island.
Murph pondered a moment, wondering if any civilized society still existed. From generations of economic debt, unscrupulous scientific exploitation, embracing false leaders, and blurring the lines between right and wrong, humanity was collapsing, just like the buildings around him. Despite the evidence at hand, he still held out hope that Jules Windsor would change everything and bring back stability to the planet. Murph believed the media’s portrayal of his leader and truly wanted to trust him.
As he turned back to console Christine, Murph noted a faint golden glow emanating at the far edge of the rubble where it dropped down into the Susquehanna. What is that? he wondered, walking over to the area.
Maybe someone is still alive? Murph hoped as his pace quickened.
Now at the edge of the debris, he noted the light emanated from a hole in the face of the newly-created cliff abutting the river.
Was someone down there? Is that where Benjamin and the rest of his friends were now hiding?
Murph cautiously scaled the side of the cliff, holding on to the protruding rocks for support. Luckily, the drop off was not sheer and sloped at enough of an angle to make the descent manageable. Plus, with years of heavy weight lifting, his well-toned muscles made the journey relatively easy.
Grabbing a stone slab overhead, Murph lowered himself into the cave. “Benjamin?” he said while holding his auricular chip. He continued to call out his name a few more times as he walked.
Murph wound his way down steps carved with precision from solid granite; faintly glimmering walls of the same stone illuminated his path.
“Kate?” Murph said louder, hoping anyone would answer his plea. He then ran through ten more names, but each one was answered with silence.
“Benjamin?” Murph said one more time before he abruptly stopped walking.
He knew what stood before him was certainly not part of the Art Museum. Though he was admittedly not the most cultured man on the planet, Murph recognized that what he was looking at was no modern construction.
“Christine!” Murph yelled into the auricular chip as he ran back up the steps.
“Christine!” he beckoned. Reaching the top of the cave and now looking towards his only surviving friend, kneeling at the edge of the debris, Murph yelled, “You’ve got to see this!”