Everything Falls Apart
by Steve Carr
Drew was almost always wide awake when the train, an image of a phoenix rising from ashes on its engine, stopped behind the factory next door to the renovated warehouse he lived in. Crates were taken from the factory and stacked in the boxcars. Except for the screeching of the train’s wheels on the rails as it came to a stop, everything happened in an aura of silence.
The lights on the back of the factory shone on the men who carried the crates from the loading dock to the train. The men wore overalls so white they were luminescent. Drew could see what they were doing, but they were too far away for him to see their faces.
Loading the boxcars was usually done within a couple of hours, and then, after the doors to the boxcars were closed, the train quietly pulled away from the factory and disappeared in the night.
He would return to his bed from his position at the window and lie there the remainder of the night, wide awake and staring up at the ceiling, ignoring the tremors that shook the bed. When the first rays of daylight came through the window, he would get out of bed, shower, and dress in a gray suit, light blue shirt and red tie. He would sit at the kitchen table and have one cup of black coffee, half a grapefruit and one slice of lightly buttered toast. This routine never altered.
Before leaving the apartment, he would pick up his briefcase from the stand near the door where he always left it, set the security alarm, and then go out the door. Going down the three flights of stairs, he would keep one hand on the black iron bannister until he reached the lobby. Being shaken during the night left him a little off-balance and required taking the stairs cautiously.
He would step out of the building’s front doors, stop for a moment to decide which way he would go, then begin walking. The sidewalks were strewn with rubble that was never cleared away. The facades of many of the buildings had large gaps created by dislodged concrete or bricks. Many telephone poles and street lamps were slightly askew. Strips of duct tape covered the cracks in storefront plate glass windows. Some sidewalks and streets were buckled. Trees with exposed roots leaned on the bowed electric lines. Like everyone else, he stepped over the debris and kept alert to the sound of anything falling.
In the streets, the traffic crawled along, following behind dump trucks and backhoes clearing the streets. Long fissures split the pavement.
* * *
“That was a big one last night,” Dennis said as he held his pet white rabbit close to his chest.
“They all feel the same to me,” Drew said. He glanced at his watch. “My watch has stopped.”
The rabbit wiggled its pink nose.
A man in a gray suit similar to Drew’s put a dollar bill on the counter, and Dennis handed him a newspaper. As the man walked away, Dennis said, “That guy buys a newspaper from me the exact same time every day, so it must be ten-fifteen.” He looked at his watch. “Yep, I was right.”
Drew tapped the crystal on his watch and the second hand began to move. “Do you make a good living running this newsstand?” he asked.
“Good enough,” Dennis said. “The bigger the night tremor, the more newspapers I sell. I don’t know what would happen if the tremors start happening during the day.”
The rabbit nuzzled its face against Dennis’ tweed vest.
“I’m going to do something different and watch the drawbridge go up and down today,” Drew said.
Dennis petted the rabbit. “Good for you. You should try something new every day.”
“I keep telling myself that,” Drew said, “but I rarely do.”
The rabbit nibbled playfully on Dennis’ fingertip. “Being an architect must be exciting though.”
“My buildings were the first to fall down when the tremors began last year. No one will hire me now. I’m thinking about leaving this city. I have this briefcase full of my architectural designs, yet I wander the city looking for work and can’t find a job. Nothing new has been built here in a long time.”
Dennis took a carrot from his pocket and held it in front of the rabbit’s nose. “According to what I read in the newspapers, it’s getting to be the same all over. Parts for anything are almost impossible to find.”
“I guess the planet’s slowly shifting its rotation has consequences,” Drew said.
* * *
Where the river had jumped the bank, washing several apartment buildings and warehouses away, the ground had turned into a mudflat. Dead trees stuck up out of the mud, their bare, twisted limbs reaching out like broken fingers. A wrecked and rotting steamboat lay almost on its side on the far bank amidst a tangle of fallen trees.
Barges and tugboats floated through the gray, muddy river water.
“Do you come here often?” asked a pretty young woman who was sitting on a rock at the river’s edge.
“Never,” Drew said. “I’ve come to watch the drawbridge for the first time.”
She gazed at the bridge and tilted her head. “I think last night’s shake may have damaged it.”
Drew sat on a rock next to hers and placed his briefcase in his lap. He tilted his head as she did and looked at the bridge. “Has the bridge always tilted a little like it’s tilting now?”
“No,” she said. She reached out her hand to shake his. “My name is Patt. It’s spelled with two t’s.”
“Why?”
“It may have been Patty at some time, but the Y got lost along the way.”
He shook her hand. “I’m Drew.”
She tilted her head the other direction. “Things are always the most fascinating just before they fall apart, don’t you think?”
“Everything falls apart at some time or another. That’s the way it was even before the night tremors began.”
She picked up a pebble and tossed it in the river. “I wonder why they happen only at night?”
“I think I read that on the other side of the planet they only happen during the day.” He nervously drummed his fingers on the briefcase. “I wish I was better at small talk. You seem like someone I’d like to know better.”
One of the rising ramps on the bridge screeched nosily and then came to a sudden stop while the other ramp continued to rise.
“See, damaged,” she said.
* * *
Like a bruise, dark purple, blood red, and mustard yellow streaks fanned out across the twilight sky. Drew stood at his bedroom window contemplating the perfectly square shape of the factory. It sat in an area dug out of hard rock along the tracks, making it lower than the buildings that surrounded it. The few windows it had were painted black. A single paved driveway led from the street to the factory. An iron gate with spikes stood at the entrance to the driveway.
Trucks came and went throughout the day, every day. Unlike all the other buildings around it, including the one he lived in, not a single brick was missing. The image of the phoenix rising from the ashes was painted on the facade and the two sides of the building.
As the sky turned to black, the window glass became a mirror. His reflection stared back at him without emotion.
Then the lamp on the bedside stand began to sway and the objects on the dresser began to rattle.
* * *
“The drawbridge was broken,” Drew said.
Cradling the rabbit on its back in his arms, Dennis said, “I read about that. Did you enjoy seeing it anyway?”
“Yes. It was even more interesting because it seems to be falling apart.”
“The newspaper said a gear broke loose during a tremor and fell into the river.”
Drew switched his briefcase from one hand to the other. “I met a young woman there named Patt. She spells it with two t’s. She’s coming to my place for dinner tonight.”
“That’s great. I was wondering why a handsome young guy like you wasn’t seeing anyone.” He parted the hair on the rabbit’s stomach, revealing a small door with the image on it of the phoenix rising from the ashes. He pushed on the door with the tips of his fingers and the door sprang open. He turned the rabbit upright and shook it. A small bolt fell out of the opened door. “Now I know why my rabbit has been avoiding his carrots,” he said as he examined the bolt.
The man in the suit like Drew’s stopped and put a dollar on the newsstand counter. Dennis handed the man a newspaper. As the man walked away, Dennis looked at his watch: “Ten-fifteen.”
* * *
As the room shook, a picture on the wall of the Eiffel Tower lying on its side on the Champ de Mars fell from its hook and crashed to the floor. Standing at the bedroom window, Drew watched the men carrying the crates to the train.
Behind him, Patt lay asleep in his bed. The sound of her gentle breathing filled the room. The faint aroma of her rose-scented perfume hung in the air. When the men on the loading dock dropped one of the crates, Drew was thinking about returning to the warmth of the bed at Patt’s side and almost missed it. The crate had broken open and three naked female bodies rolled out of it, bodies exactly like Patt’s. Their pale skin gleaming in the glare of the lights.
Drew rushed to the bed and grabbed Patt and shook her.
She quickly awakened. “What’s wrong?” she said as she sat up.
“Why didn’t you tell me you’re an artificant?” he said.
She rubbed the sleep from her eyes. “I didn’t think it mattered. I thought you were one, too.”
“Why would you think that?”
“You seem broken. Lots of us artificants can’t take being rattled like this all the time.”
“I’m not broken, I’m unemployed,” Drew said.
* * *
“I’m sorry you had to stop seeing her,” Dennis said.
Drew put his briefcase on the counter and opened it. He riffled through a small stack of blueprints. “It’s not that I have anything against artificants but, if she broke down I might never be able to get a part to fix her. I couldn’t take losing her after I’ve already lost my ability to find a job.”
“I know how you feel,” Dennis said. He shook his rabbit. Inside its stomach there was a metallic rattling. “I can get another rabbit exactly like this one, but it won’t be the same.”
Drew took a blueprint from the briefcase and held it up and stared at the white lines on the blue paper. “If only I had designed this building to withstand the tremors.”
The ground began to shake, hard.
“Uh-oh, a daytime tremor. Now we’ve had it,” Dennis said as he grabbed onto the counter.
When the tremor stopped, Drew shook his head. A tiny screw fell out of his ear.
Still looking at the blueprint, he said, “If only I had designed this building to withstand the tremors.
“If only I had designed this building to withstand the tremors.
“If only I had designed this building to withstand the tremors.”
Copyright © 2018 by Steve Carr
