Random Writing
We were packed that night into a temporary building thrown up by a forcefield generator, expecting a quiet night at last, a chance for our hearts to slow and our feet to shrink. We were assigned spaces on the upper or lower floor, with sleeping bags for warmth and modesty. But we were not meant to rest yet.
The power couldn't go out - it was impossible, unprecedented to lose power - so of course that was what happened. With a high-pitched bleep that woke up only the dogs asleep around us the generator's capacitors failed and the walls and floors instantly dissolved. Those of us on the ground floor were woken by the protective lead-tantalum blankets falling onto us (if we were lucky) or by our fellow refugees hitting our legs, bodies, faces (if we were unlucky). I was sleeping underneath a boy I'd seen during the escape but hadn't had a chance to talk to, who landed on my outstretched left arm. When I asked him later what it had been like, he described perfectly what I'd expected - the feeling of a falling dream as you are just about to go to sleep, then his body madly, instinctively clutching for something as he fell for real. He told me that for a minute afterwards he did not know where he was, that the pain in his back didn't start until later, his system was so shocked.
The nearby troops (and the dogs roused by the generator failing), rushed in, shocked, to help us. Nine of the big protective blankets had covered the upper floor forcefield to make it safe to sleep on, and they were big enough that some of the people underneath them might smother before they could get out, especially with the weight of the others on top of them. I was fortunately at the edge, and although unable to do anything with my left arm I was well enough to pull myself out from under the blanket and lie on the damp grass, my heart pounding frantically as it did whenever I was woken suddenly. The night air seemed like ice as I gasped it down, and slowly around me I became aware of the moans and screams of the other refugees. I carefully pulled myself to my feet.
People were scattered over the ground, some quiet, some writhing and yelling, a bare few (like myself) pulling themselves up. Three soldiers were walking carefully through the mess, trying to find the corners of the blankets so that they could pull them up, dragging the bodies of those who had been on the top floor out of the way so that they could peel back the heavy material and help those below.
A fourth soldier (an officer, I thought), stood near me, calling to the others. I looked around, then asked him what had happened. He shook his head, and shouted again to the other three soldiers.
At the edge of the field I could see more soldiers running back and forth in the dark, calling out frantically. I couldn't understand what they were saying, but I recognised the tone. Not panic, exactly, but frantic activity mixed with fear and surprise.
"Why aren't they helping?" I demanded. The officer barked something at me - incomprehensible gibberish, which I assumed was English. "Why aren't they helping?" I repeated, pointing awkwardly across my chest with my good arm.
"Other.." he said awkwardly, but then he ran out of words and shook his head again. "Help," he ordered me, pointing towards the collapsed building. I angrily stomped towards it, knelt, and began to search the ground for the edge of the nearest blanket. I could see a body shape within a meter of the edge - so well defined under the woven lead-tantalum that I could even tell it was another woman. She wasn't moving.
Peeling back the edge of the material was difficult - would have been difficult even with both arms, indeed, for me it was almost impossible. I was forced to lift up an length and then shuffle my knees under it, rolling it all up from one point. The material resisted, the heavy lengths of it to either side of me wanting it to unroll flat again. I tried sitting back and then unfolding my legs underneath it, then turned over on all fours (well, all threes), and shuffled backwards towards the shape, steering myself by memory. Before the material reached my shoulders my toes touched the body and with a sudden ticklish shock I felt a hand grabbing at my foot.
"Hey, hey!" I laughed, jerking my foot back. The hand came with it, then let go. I reached my foot back again, more carefully this time. Again it was grabbed, this time a tight grip around the ankle. I wondered what to do - there was no way I could pull her out, not with only one arm working. I decided to continue shuffling backwards - at least I could pull the blank up around her and let her move herself into a better position. Following my feet, I moved backwards again until my other foot bumped into something soft (her waist, she told me later).
With some awkwardness I kicked back over her stomach with one leg, and then the other - difficult at first as she would not let go, but after I called to her: relax, relax, she released me and I was able to move into position above her, holding the heavy blanket up away from her so that she could move her pinned limbs again, curling into the space below me, her back brushing against my breasts, her shoulder bumping my numb left arm.
"Wait," I told her. "I can't hold myself up like this." My right arm was hot and trembly with the strain, and when she was under me I carefully let my chest collapse onto her hips. "Are you okay?"
She gasped something that I couldn't make out. Her breath and mine filled up the space below me, metallic and garlicky from the military rations. I was just preparing to move again when a gust of cold air rushed in over us. In the pale light I could see the officer and another soldier holding up the edge of the blanket and gesturing to us.
"Can you move?" I asked. She nodded.
The power couldn't go out - it was impossible, unprecedented to lose power - so of course that was what happened. With a high-pitched bleep that woke up only the dogs asleep around us the generator's capacitors failed and the walls and floors instantly dissolved. Those of us on the ground floor were woken by the protective lead-tantalum blankets falling onto us (if we were lucky) or by our fellow refugees hitting our legs, bodies, faces (if we were unlucky). I was sleeping underneath a boy I'd seen during the escape but hadn't had a chance to talk to, who landed on my outstretched left arm. When I asked him later what it had been like, he described perfectly what I'd expected - the feeling of a falling dream as you are just about to go to sleep, then his body madly, instinctively clutching for something as he fell for real. He told me that for a minute afterwards he did not know where he was, that the pain in his back didn't start until later, his system was so shocked.
The nearby troops (and the dogs roused by the generator failing), rushed in, shocked, to help us. Nine of the big protective blankets had covered the upper floor forcefield to make it safe to sleep on, and they were big enough that some of the people underneath them might smother before they could get out, especially with the weight of the others on top of them. I was fortunately at the edge, and although unable to do anything with my left arm I was well enough to pull myself out from under the blanket and lie on the damp grass, my heart pounding frantically as it did whenever I was woken suddenly. The night air seemed like ice as I gasped it down, and slowly around me I became aware of the moans and screams of the other refugees. I carefully pulled myself to my feet.
People were scattered over the ground, some quiet, some writhing and yelling, a bare few (like myself) pulling themselves up. Three soldiers were walking carefully through the mess, trying to find the corners of the blankets so that they could pull them up, dragging the bodies of those who had been on the top floor out of the way so that they could peel back the heavy material and help those below.
A fourth soldier (an officer, I thought), stood near me, calling to the others. I looked around, then asked him what had happened. He shook his head, and shouted again to the other three soldiers.
At the edge of the field I could see more soldiers running back and forth in the dark, calling out frantically. I couldn't understand what they were saying, but I recognised the tone. Not panic, exactly, but frantic activity mixed with fear and surprise.
"Why aren't they helping?" I demanded. The officer barked something at me - incomprehensible gibberish, which I assumed was English. "Why aren't they helping?" I repeated, pointing awkwardly across my chest with my good arm.
"Other.." he said awkwardly, but then he ran out of words and shook his head again. "Help," he ordered me, pointing towards the collapsed building. I angrily stomped towards it, knelt, and began to search the ground for the edge of the nearest blanket. I could see a body shape within a meter of the edge - so well defined under the woven lead-tantalum that I could even tell it was another woman. She wasn't moving.
Peeling back the edge of the material was difficult - would have been difficult even with both arms, indeed, for me it was almost impossible. I was forced to lift up an length and then shuffle my knees under it, rolling it all up from one point. The material resisted, the heavy lengths of it to either side of me wanting it to unroll flat again. I tried sitting back and then unfolding my legs underneath it, then turned over on all fours (well, all threes), and shuffled backwards towards the shape, steering myself by memory. Before the material reached my shoulders my toes touched the body and with a sudden ticklish shock I felt a hand grabbing at my foot.
"Hey, hey!" I laughed, jerking my foot back. The hand came with it, then let go. I reached my foot back again, more carefully this time. Again it was grabbed, this time a tight grip around the ankle. I wondered what to do - there was no way I could pull her out, not with only one arm working. I decided to continue shuffling backwards - at least I could pull the blank up around her and let her move herself into a better position. Following my feet, I moved backwards again until my other foot bumped into something soft (her waist, she told me later).
With some awkwardness I kicked back over her stomach with one leg, and then the other - difficult at first as she would not let go, but after I called to her: relax, relax, she released me and I was able to move into position above her, holding the heavy blanket up away from her so that she could move her pinned limbs again, curling into the space below me, her back brushing against my breasts, her shoulder bumping my numb left arm.
"Wait," I told her. "I can't hold myself up like this." My right arm was hot and trembly with the strain, and when she was under me I carefully let my chest collapse onto her hips. "Are you okay?"
She gasped something that I couldn't make out. Her breath and mine filled up the space below me, metallic and garlicky from the military rations. I was just preparing to move again when a gust of cold air rushed in over us. In the pale light I could see the officer and another soldier holding up the edge of the blanket and gesturing to us.
"Can you move?" I asked. She nodded.
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