Necropolis

What Was: Chapter 1

"Oh, good! You made it!" Rosemary dropped the items she was holding and rushed to Laurel's side, hugging her tightly. "I was afraid that you wouldn't make it in time," she said as she moistened her cheek with a tear. "They're gone, Laurel!" She pulled Laurel at arm's length to look into her eyes. Laurel was non-responsive, so Rosemary shook her a bit. "Do you hear me, Lala? This was Rosemary's pet name for Laurel. Only she called her that. "Mom and Dad were just killed. The whole hospital was completely destroyed. Do you understand what that means?"

It was interesting; Laurel did understand, but still... nothing. She felt nothing and thought nothing. She was even conscious of how odd that was, but she couldn't help it. Maybe it was shock, but Laurel hadn't shed a single tear over her parents. She hadn't even batted an eyelash as her transport zoomed by the chaotic scenes of the downtown canton, where the hospital once stood.

At Rosemary's foot lay scattered all the contents of five emergency backpacks. Breathing masks, rations, water, tents, all the standard emergency items, and some extras Laurel's dad thought essential to have at such an event. He was a bit of a worrywart, so he had included helmets, a first aid kit fit for a surgeon, and a host of other things that Laurel didn't know what they were.

"I'm dividing the spoils," Rosemary explained. "Go to your room and get a change of clothes. Hurry!" she ordered, trying to light a fire under Laurel, who stood in her living room with an impassive look.

She did as she was told. But when she got to her room, she seemed to get lost again. So what was she supposed to do? Oh yeah, get clothes. But as she went to her dresser, the first things she saw were her pointe shoes and a pair of tights. So she grabbed them instead and left the room. When she returned to the living room, Rosemary said, "good," without even looking up to see what she had gotten. So Laurel stuffed the shoes and tights in her pack and zipped them up as if trying to hide the evidence.

Just then, Bay came bounding in, almost toppling Laurel over.

"Laurel, Laurel!" Bay squealed. He was wearing one of the helmets that her dad had purchased. This helmet was specially bought for Bay because its top was shaped like a Spinosaurus' back and had colorful scales on the side. "Grrr," he growled, making one corner of Laurel's mouth curve up.

"Help me, will you?" Rosemary said, trying to keep the panic in her voice at a minimum.

"I don't get it, what happened to the shield of the dome?" Laurel ventured to ask.

"The shield? Laurel..." Rosemary stared at her sister. "It's gone!" She wiped a tear that slid down her cheek and lowered her voice. "I need to count on you, to help me with Bay. He doesn't understand any of this; you have to promise me that if anything happens to me—"

Laurel nodded, but the fact was that she barely understood the situation herself. She had lived her entire life under the constant assurances from the government that the shield was in working order. So now she was supposed to understand that the shield was gone? As in completely gone? How could this be? What did this mean?

"I'll take care of him," Laurel said solemnly when she realized that her sister wasn't releasing her gaze until she got an answer.

"I know I can count on you," she said vehemently. "Now help me sort this stuff out, we need to go under."

"Under?"

"Yes, this building is one of the few buildings in the city with an underground bomb shelter. We should be safe there." As soon as Rosemary was done saying those words, the sirens went off and started blaring their loud, ominous sound. To Laurel, they sounded like death, and she quickly got down on her haunches and started putting the contents of five bags into three, making sure one was lighter than the other two.

"Here, put this on." Rosemary handed Laurel a helmet with a gas mask attachment.

"Isn't this a bit much?"

"Not if you want to live," Rosemary said before putting hers on and strapping her breathing mask over the front—she looked like an astronaut. Rosemary gave her the thumbs up and slung her backpack over her shoulders. Laurel did the same and watched as her sister quickly set Bay up with his mask and pack.

Her dad had spared no expense on this equipment. He had thought of getting the masks that came with the communications device inside. This feature was already proving to be helpful.

"Okay, follow me," Rosemary said through the communication device, sounding muffled by the mask. "Laurel, hold the rear. Bay, stay next to me," she said with gritted teeth, emphasizing the importance of her words. Bay nodded, but Laurel could tell he was way too excited about the commotion to be scared or worried.

It was a bit like a dream, or rather a nightmare. Laurel moved as if she were on stage, guided by her sister, who seemed to know all there was to know. It was almost like learning a new routine; her sister moved, she moved, her sister ducked, she ducked. When they finally made it to the underground shelter, the buildings around them had already started to fall, sending massive tremors through their precariously tall building. Once they were hunkered down in the bomb shelter, Laurel realized they were way more prepared than the rest of the building's residents, who merely rushed in with nothing but the shirts on their backs.

She didn't need anyone to tell her what those quiet, covetous stares were. The three huddled in one corner of the room, fully stocked with supplies and protection. Those who were unprepared realized then that even if they did survive this attack, they would not survive the aftermath. But no one said anything. Instead, they simply stared fixedly at Laurel and Rosemary. Their broad, panic-stricken eyes made Laurel feel guilty, even though she knew she shouldn't.

"Ignore them," Rosemary ordered Laurel, guessing Laurel's thoughts. "We all had time to prepare, we all knew this day would come, sooner or later. We're not guilty for doing what they could have done." Her counsel sounded callused, but it was true. Although, she guiltily realized that it was her father, not her, who was prepared. Still, Laurel had no time to dwell on this for too long because there was a thundering crash, followed by a ripple from the floor. It felt as if the whole building was floating on water. This movement made Laurel's stomach feel queasy and her head disoriented.

"What's that?" she asked with alarm, her voice sounding strange through the helmet's communicator.

"I'm not sure," Rosemary said as she pulled Bay tighter. "Maybe a nearby building fell and caused a tremor."

Bay was quiet now, his eyes wide open and staring. The lights started flicking, and he snuggled closer to Rosemary and Laurel. When the lights finally went off completely, those huddled in the basement emitted an audible gasp. A couple of the children started to cry, and soon their cries were drowned by the stinging sound of bombs. Relentless, one after the other, they seemed to be never-ending. Debris started to fall from the roof of the bomb shelter, small pieces of dust at first, then larger chunks that hit some over the head, making them scream in pain.

It was dark, so it was hard to tell how much of the shelter was surviving the attack, but it looked doubtful that it would withstand too much of this. By now, they could tell that the building that had been Laurel's home had started to crumble. They could all hear the creaking noise and the thuds it made as each level fell on top of the next. One could almost count down the floors, imagining their floor level being crushed down on them. What would happen when all thirty levels had crumbled on top of them? Would this shelter be able to hold all the weight? Or would it cave in under the weight?

"Rose?" Laurel asked with an edge to her voice. "Is it safe here?"

She could hear Rosemary's breathing. "I—I hope so." She turned her head to look at Laurel, but it was too dark to see each other's faces. However, Laurel knew what she would see in her sister's eyes and was almost happy that she couldn't quite discern it.

Floor after floor collapsed. It sounded like certain death coming down on them. Laurel's home was on the tenth floor; if her counting was correct, it had just collapsed on top of the ninth floor. Eight—seven—six—five—four—three—two—one—.