Darkness on a Pale Blue Stone (7 page)

Gresson made his way back to his group, shaking hands and waving to the crowd on the way. The iconic smile plastered on his face was identical to the one that had been featured on countless ads four years ago. The dark eventually hindered most from recognizing him and he arrived back at the small fire Sean and the Cases had started. The cheers died down, only to be replaced with endless chants and even a few musical instruments on the far side of the park.

"So I guess you really are President Gresson," Michael remarked as Gresson sat down.

"I guess I am," he replied.

"Looks like someone has a crack in the armor. What happened to our cold, stoic leader?" Alice asked.

"We needed to get through the crowd. Acting presidential was the quickest way," Gresson replied.

"And the message of hope helped us how?" Michael said with a grin. He hoped some noble side of Gresson was beginning to manifest.

Yet Gresson had turned back into the cold, stoic leader as he ignored the question and said, "Everyone get comfortable. We'll sleep here tonight and leave early in the morning."

The crowd surrounding the group was still in a state of loud celebration, though the cheers had declined.

Sean shook his head and said, "I don't think we'll be getting much sleep."

"Try," Gresson said as he laid down on his sleeping bag. The others begrudgingly followed suit. They placed their packs within the bottom of the sleeping bags to prevent any potential theft and slept close to each other and the fire to keep warm. Within an hour, most of the crowd had left the park. The only cheers erupted from further downtown as a liquor store was discovered and promptly raided, starting a brand new party. Many of those remaining slept around the scattered fires. While the park never became very quiet, it was enough for everyone to get some rest.

Chapter 9

Cherry Hill - August 6, 2072

Gresson awoke before the sun had risen, but the dark of night was already fading. He stood up and rubbed his eyes. After shaking the others awake, he said softly, "Alright, time to go."

Within a few minutes, everyone was packed and ready to move. The group began to head toward the highway.

Before they could reach the on-way ramp, a woman wielding a shotgun appeared, blocking their path. She had dark skin, tight black clothes, and a prominent red tattoo covering the left side of her face. The tattoo involved two thick lines above and below her left eye, and a third line running diagonally across her left cheek. Her gray eyes stared intently at the group's leader.

Gresson slowly drew his gun out of his coat and held it at his side. The group began to walk slower as they approached.

The woman spoke with a sharp voice, "You are President Gresson."

"And you are in my way," Gresson replied, his grip on his gun tightening.

The stern look on her face did not change, and she still held her shotgun, but the woman raised her free hand in surrender. "I'm not here to stop you. I want to join you."

"Join us?" Gresson asked cautiously. His eyes scanned around, looked for anyone else who might be with the woman.

"Yes," she replied, her gaze unwavering. "I was at the park last night. I watched your speech. And I watched as you went back to these other people with you. People who look like they've never held a gun in their lives. You need someone who can protect you and I can do that."

Gresson had now stopped a few yards away from the woman. "I am more than capable of defending myself and the others with me. I appreciate the offer, but we must continue on. Without you." He began to lead the group around her. He pulled out his gun to underscore his point.

"Fine," she said, but they way she looked at them as she walked away made it clear she had not given up.

The group made it back onto the highway and headed south.

"That was scary as hell," Sean said.

"I appreciate that you didn't attempt to pick up another rescue, Michael," Gresson said.

"Thanks?" Sean sarcastically complained.

"Sean seems a bit more stable than whoever that was. Besides, she looks like she can handle herself anyway," Michael said.

"Once again, thanks?" Sean said, this time raising his hands in protest. As he said this, he tripped on a crack in the asphalt and struggled for a second to balance his own weight and the weight of the pack on his back.

Alice gave him a look. "Yeah, yeah," Sean submitted.

The group continued to follow the highway south. As the day progressed, the number of passersby increased, though the road remained far less populated than the day before, now that they were past the Philadelphia area traffic.

The early start and quick pace allowed them to arrive at the Delaware River in the mid-afternoon. The group's walk across one of the Delaware Memorial Bridges came to a stop as they stared with dispair at the wreckage that laid ahead. In the center of the bridge lay the remains of a crashed airplane. Debris littered the bridge and the water below. Though the bridge was still intact, the scorched impact site was uninviting. There was no fire, but smoke still rose into the air.

"Alright. Let's get a closer look. It could still be passable," Gresson said.

As the group approached the wreckage, they encountered a stench of burnt metal and flesh. They began to get a clearer image of the crash and realized the bridge was far less intact than it had originally appeared. The support wires of the bridge were either mangled or detached and the road appeared uneven.

Coming closer, they saw why. There was a gap in the road, several feet wide. The section of the bridge they were walking on had lost most support and lowered nearly a meter compared to the side across the gap in front of them. Lying caught within the area of missing bridge lay a burnt out piece of the airplane's hull. The stench was worse here. Lying on the road was at least one charred human figure.

"Oh god!" Alice cried. Sean, on the verge of puking, hung his head over the edge of the bridge. Marie had turned around and covered her eyes. Michael and Adam were pale and held their noses. Gresson, however, seemed undisturbed as he scanned the area for a way to cross, though he was certain they would need to go back and use the bridge that ran parallel to this one.

A whimper came from the wreckage ahead.

"There's someone alive in there!" Adam yelled. He, Michael, and Gresson dropped their bags and cautiously walked toward the noise. Alice ran over and grabbed Adam.

"Stay back," she said.

"Mom, I..." Adam started.

"Adam, it's alright. Just hang on and let us check it out," Michael said. Adam groaned in protest, but resigned to comfort his distraught sister.

As Michael and Gresson neared the hull of the airplane, they heard someone moan, "Over here. Please." The voice came from behind a blackened hunk of metal that had once been a car. Caught between that and the hull of the airplane lay an ash covered man. His right leg was trapped between the road and the hull. The two men ran over.

"Are you alright?" Michael asked.

"Ju... just great, you moron," the man snapped. He coughed, then said, "I'm sorry. Please, just get me out of here. I've been stuck like this for days."

Gresson called for water. Adam ran over with some and put it to the man's lips. As he drank, Michael incredulously asked, "Were you on the plane?"

The man shook his head. "I had just... just driven onto the bridge when all the cars stopped working. Me and a couple... *
cough*...
couple others were tryin' to figure out what the hell happened when this plane just dropped right out of the sky. Just dropped. Like they were trying to... *
cough
*... to perch right on the goddamn bridge at a thousand miles an hour. Then
boom! ... *cough* *cough*...
The explosion shook the bridge so bad I thought for sure it was going down." The man nodded at the water bottle, which Adam let him drink from.

The man continued, "So me and some other guys ran over here, but the fire was too much. We waited a few hours and it died down enough for us to check for survivors. Shoulda known no one could survive that." He pointed over at the mangled bridge wires. "The hull was originally against that, but as we started poking around, it fell. The others either ran or fell into the water. Lucky me, I got pinned. Crushed my leg then burnt it... *
cough
*... to a goddamn crisp. And..." The man suddenly had a coughing fit. When he recovered, he said, "You mind if we have story-time later?"

"Yeah, let's see if we can wedge something in there and pry you out," Michael said.

Gresson shook his head. "It's safer if we just cut off the leg."

"Whoa, man! At least try to pry me out first!" the man cried.

Adam tried to pick up a long piece of metal and yelled when it burnt his hands. "I'll get a blanket," his father said. Once Michael retrieved a blanket from his pack, he and Adam wrapped it over the metal and carried it over next to the trapped man. They placed it in a small space between the road and the hull.

With a sigh, Gresson walked over to the metal piece they would use as a wedge. "What's your name?" he asked the man.

"Ben. You know, you look really familiar..." he replied.

Gresson interrupted, "Alright, Ben. Michael and I are going to try to push up the hull. As soon as it moves, pull out. Adam, you'll help him." Adam stood behind Ben and wrapped his arms around Ben's chest, ready to pull.

"You set?" Gresson asked Michael. He nodded. "3... 2... 1.... Go!" The two men pushed down on the metal piece. Michael was shocked to discover Gresson's strength. The hull began to rise.

Before Ben could move, there was a loud
twang.
One of the wires the hull was pressed against had snapped. The bridge shuddered. Gresson and Michael fell to the asphalt and Ben screamed as the hull fell back against his leg, crushing the few remaining nerves left.

"Whoa!" Michael yelled as the road beneath them dramatically dropped at least one foot. The bridge creaked and moaned as the stress on the last support wires grew too much for them to bare.

"
Move
!" Gresson shouted. He threw Michael and himself sideways as a piece of the road broke off and fell toward the river below. The gap in the bridge was now much wider. The two men slid toward the expanse. With a last second leap, Gresson grasped the edge of the road on the opposite side of the gap with one hand and held onto Michael's shirt with the other. They hung there for a moment and Michael desperately reached for Gresson as he watched debris fall into the water far below his dangling feet.

The burnt airplane hull broke free and fell through the bridge's gap, now too wide to hold it. Ben fell with it, letting out a harrowing cry. Adam had managed to grab onto the automobile carcass behind him, ignoring the searing pain of the molten hot metal, but it too began to slide toward the wide gap where road had once been. Seeing the impending fall to the river far below, Adam jumped to the side, attempting to catch anything stable in his grip. His hands met a steel bar, jutting out from the side of the broken road. He could feel the skin on his burnt hands peel as his grip slid off the bar. To Adam, it seemed like slow motion as he watched the bridge rise away from him and felt the force of gravity take full control of his falling body.

Soon following him was Sean, who had raced to help him, only to lose control after the road buckled yet again. Sean tried to grab the road in vain as he rolled over it. He screamed in terror when he fell, along with chucks of asphalt, plane debris, and cars.

Marie and Alice had managed to run back far enough to escape a fall. The crumbling road and falling bridge wire had chased them back halfway to one of the bridge's towering supports. There were enough stable wires here to hold up the road. They looked back in horror at the gap in the bridge. While it had once been only a few feet, the gap now spanned several bus lengths.

Gresson managed to pull himself and Michael up onto the road. On this side of the gap, the bridge was still unstable, but enough wires were still intact to prevent it from dropping.

Michael struggled to catch his breath as he tried to call for his son. He looked over the edge at the water below. "Adam! Adam!" he managed to yell. After a few moments, he turned to Gresson and said, "You were right. We shouldn't have used a wedge. This is my fault..."

Gresson grabbed Michael and pulled him up. "Hindsight will not save your son. Action might. Come on!"

Chapter 10

Delaware Memorial Bridge - August 6, 2072

Gresson and Michael ran on the bridge, heading toward the Delaware shore. A small crowd had gathered in the distance, trying to find out what was happening on the bridge.

"So... *
gasp
*... what's the plan?" Michael asked breathlessly.

"Get a boat," Gresson said as he changed course, threw his coat to the ground, and ran to the edge.

"What the hell are you doing?" Michael yelled.

"There's less debris here," Gresson said, acting as if that answered the question. He swung himself over the bridge railing and took a deep breath. Without hesitation, he leapt forward and plummeted toward the river below.

Michael ran to the side and looked over the railing. Eyes wide and still panting, he watched as Gresson splashed down below. Michael could vaguely see him when he surfaced and began to swim.

What kind of person is this guy?
Michael thought, but this was quickly overcome by the thought of his possibly drowning son. He began to run.

Alice and Marie, both in a state of shock, called out for the others. They had not seen Michael and Gresson's escape to the other side and assumed they too had fallen in. Marie sat down and quivered in a fetal position. Alice began to cry as she scanned the waters below for movement, but to no avail. She looked back at her daughter.

"Marie? We need to go back to shore and find something to get us down there. We'll find them, okay?" Alice said as she put her arms around Marie.