Free 6:00 Hours: A Dystopian Novel by Chad Evercroft Page A

down at him, concerned.
    “You ok?” Marty asked.
    “Yeah. Better now. That you’re ok,” Danny replied.
    Marty surveyed the destroyed landscape and inhaled shakily. He acted like he might say something, but he stopped, the words caught in his throat. Instead, he just squeezed Danny’s shoulder before letting his hand drop. A firefighter in a faded coat came over and cleared his throat.
    “Everyone affected by the storm is welcome to stay in the big church with the gym.  You guys know the one?”
    “Yeah,” Marty said. “About five miles away.”
    “We’d be glad to drive you, whenever you’re ready.”
    “Thanks,” Marty said. “I think we’d like to go now. Danny?”
    Danny lowered his head. He didn’t want to go. There were still supplies buried in that heap over there, the one where not an hour ago, a house stood. A house that was prepared for anything. Well, almost anything. Marty understood and gathered his family, telling Miranda that they would meet them at the gym.
    “I’ll save you a good spot.”
    After they left, Miranda and Danny were given thick work gloves so they could begin sifting through the rubble safely and told to not stay in the area for very long.
    “It’s clear now, but there are more storms in the forecast,” the firefighter said. “An officer will stay here to drive you to the church when ya’ll are ready.”
    Danny scoffed inwardly at the word “ready.” Clearly the firefighter’s home had been spared from the tornado. No one is ever “ready” to leave the ruin of their home. There will always be a broken fragment of that place in one’s heart, like a piece of shrapnel in a wound. Despite his leg, Danny hobbled around in the mess, searching for anything salvageable. He was naturally drawn to where he believed his stockpile room had been. His chest tightened as he picked through a bounty of crushed glass, dust, and wood. He managed to find a few cans of food - vegetables and fruit - and put them in the pile of useful items he was building. When he found a dust-coated duffel bag, he put the cans inside. Miranda helped him search for a while, but she grew discouraged and watched him silently from the police van. Hunter and Jesse were with her, disappointed that they couldn’t help their father, but exhausted from their traumatic ordeal. Danny felt his wife’s eyes on him and felt self-conscious. He knew she didn’t quite understand, but she let him do what he needed to do. After scrounging for a good thirty minutes, he gave up. His leg was hurting and he had only unearthed a few cans and a dirty duffle bag. Everything else was lost. For the first time in a long time, Danny felt utterly helpless.
    Danny was silent on the drive to the church. Everyone looked out the window at the passing chaos, quietly accessing the extent of the damage. The cloud had touched down for about two miles, destroying everything in its path. Trees, cars, and houses were all twisted, shattered, or flattened. Hunter and Jesse - usually so vocal - were struck dumb at the transformation of their town. Miranda thought about the people whose homes they passed, caressing each name in her mind, and hoping they lived. When they neared the church, there was much less damage to the buildings. The wind had ripped parts off of roofs and battered the sides, but everything still stood.Some people stood around outside, inspecting their cars and lawns, picking up trash, and talking to each other. Danny recognized many of them as students in his class.
    At the church, a line of about 30-40 people had formed. Some carried bags and pillows. Some had bandages around their heads, arms, or legs.
    “Here we are,” the police officer said, putting his van in park. “Just go on in and there will be someone to tell you what’s going on.”
    “Thank you so much,” Miranda said.
    “Not a problem. You folks stay safe.”
    The family was ushered into the gym, which was filled with people. They were handed four