October Falling: Baqash Origins

October Falling

  By C. E. Wilson

  Copyright:

  October Falling (Baqash Origions)

  Copyright 2016 C. E. Wilson

  All Rights Reserved

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without the express written permission from the publisher, except in brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Unless otherwise indicated, all Scripture quotations are from the ESV® Bible (The Holy Bible, English Standard Version®), copyright © 2001 by Crossway, a publishing ministry of Good News Publishers. Used by permission. All rights reserved

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Cover by C. E. Wilson

  Author Photo by Brent Shermann

  This ebook is liscensed for your personal enjoyment only. You may not resell it.

  Table of Contents

  Title

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Thanks

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Plan of Salvation

  Citations

  About the Author

  Baqash Chapter 1

  Dedicated to:

  Our Father, Son, and Holy Spirit – The Blessed Trinity

  Thanks:

  If not for these people this book would never have been written:

  My Beloved Bride – M. S.

  Phyllis H., Mark O., Bart K., and Mike P.

  To the many that have said an encouraging word to me after reading “Baqash”.

  There are so many more to include: Elders, Pastors, and Small Group Members. Everyone we encounter shapes us into who we are today and who we will become in the future. God uses these people to shape us into the very image of Christ.

  “Come what come may, time and the hour runs through the roughest day.” - Macbeth Act 1, Scene 3 by William Shakespeare

  Chapter 1

  Terry sat on the city bus, her ankles crossed and earbuds in her ears. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail and she had sunglasses on, which disguised her eyes. The bus slowed down at one of its stops, let a few on board, and then started back rolling again. She dug her phone out of her pocket and thumbed it on.

  She missed a message from her friend Michelle. “Terry, you’re late. Your shift started five minutes ago.”

  “Great.” She was always late, but even more so today because traffic was tied up due to a wreck ten blocks back. She wished she’d gotten out back then, but it was cold outside. October in Cleveland, Ohio was bitter this year. Other than the light polyester jacket she had on, she wasn’t geared for the cold. Most of the time, where she worked, and because the pace was so fast, she broke out into a continual sweat. She didn’t need heavy garments there - the lighter, the clingier, the better. A barista had to get her tips somehow.

  The bus pulled up to her stop. She was two blocks away from “The Loner’s Brew” near downtown. She’d be only 10 minutes late so she shrugged it off. No matter how hard she tried, she was always late. Terry hopped off of the bus and trudged past those waiting to get on. The cold bit at her knees through her torn-through jeans. She pulled the jacket tighter in a vain attempt to stay warm.

  Terry slipped into the flow of the crowd, and with any luck she’d be able to slip in without the manager noticing. Michelle always covered for her. However, there were times when Ronald noticed her tardiness. The last time he spoke to her he used words that included: “dismissal, temporary reassignment, and I’ll have to let you go.”

  But, he knew which side his toast was buttered on. And she knew it too. Plenty of patrons came in just to see her. She’d smile, say “how you doing Hon”, wave and bounce around while she did her job. Many of the patrons followed her after she’d been let go from her last coffee joint, which was just across the street.

  So she decided to slow her pace down, take in a little sunshine along with the cold breeze, and stop to speak with Francis. Francis was a cat that hung out along the sidewalk by his owner’s door. Francis always had a purr for her and she didn’t have to put on a show to get it. He loved her for who she was and not the façade she put on every morning.

  Francis sat on his step, preening. He looked up as she approached and stood. He knew he was in for a good scratch. Terry reached up to him and laid her painted nails to bear on the top of his head, right between the ears. The purr machine kicked in on schedule, “purr…purr.” She sat down beside him and he curled himself around her arm then nestled into her lap. All was right with the world. Just her and Francis.

  A moment later, she saw his eyes grow wide and pupils dilate. She’d never seen him do that before. He still sat on her lap, but he had become rigid. Francis’ ears pulled back, he bore his teeth, and his hair stood on end. He looked like a giant fuzz ball. Her heart began to beat harder in her chest. She was afraid to pick him off of her lap or shoo him away.

  Without any advance notice, he dug his nails into her leg and dove off into the crowd of people. He disappeared between their moving legs. Terry looked up at the sky after she heard the sound of flapping wings. It seemed like every bird in the neighborhood took to flight. Something was indeed odd. Her own hair began to stand on end. Then it started.

  She’d always imagined that an earthquake would build up, like a little tremor at first and then “slam, run for the doorway”. It’d been a long time since she had practiced diving for cover. Ohio, it never had earthquakes did it?

  This earthquake hit, and hit hard. Terry was cast off of the steps and fell face first onto the concrete sidewalk below. The tremor was so strong she couldn’t get any footing. All she could do was lay there. Then, she heard some cracking from above. She looked and saw part of the building starting to collapse into the street. If she’d had a watch she would have sworn that thirty seconds went by, but only three seconds had passed.

  Terry tried to get some purchase on the ground to stand up. The tremor continued, which prevented her from moving. All she seemed to do was fall down. She panicked. Rather than standing, she scrabbled along with hands and feet, trying to grab onto anything, anywhere. She looked up and saw that the building loomed in her direction. Bricks started to break off individually. Finally, she gained her footing and scrambled forward away from that building.

  She looked forward and saw another building beginning to fall. She couldn’t predict which way it was headed. Terry wished she’d taken gymnastics like her mother had wanted her too; but that thought shifted away faster than the earth below her. Direction didn’t matter, she just knew she had to be elsewhere.

  Somewhere deep down she found some resolve. Or was it sheer terror? She grabbed hold of a man and she clutched his jacket in her hand. He was pinned to the ground, scrambling, trying to get up himself. She leveraged off of him and heaved herself forward, which forced him to the ground. The building, just down the way, was shifting away from the sidewalk and that was where she needed to go.

  Five seconds passed during the unholy terror that befell the world around her. Her breathing ragged and heart raced, she willed herself forward. After she moved ten feet, she looked up and saw that the building on the opposite side of the street was falling towards her. She looked back, no exit was back there. No time to think. She looked across the street, buildings where collapsing everywhere. Terry looked back to her right and saw that the alleyway was clear.

  She fell to her left knee and screamed. S
omething had popped. She stretched out her leg straight behind her and clambered right into the alley. She didn’t dare try to move the leg, but with all of the turbulence she couldn’t help but put weight on it. Swear words came to her mind and the fear of death flooded her soul. Ten seconds in she hadn’t moved more than fifteen, maybe twenty, feet. She looked forward and saw a garbage bin had toppled over and was dancing on the broken asphalt. If only I can make it there…

  She began scrambling towards the bin. It looked like the top was still made of metal and the hinges were skyward so the lid was more or less closed while it jarred in the quake. It felt like an eternity passed while she heaved herself there. The sound of crumbling buildings was deafening, louder than any concert she’d ever been to. She couldn’t hardly think over the din. Dust started to fill the air, burning her lungs. She began to cough.

  She reached the garbage bin and lifted its lid. The thing danced so much she thought she’d never make it inside. Opportunity struck when it lurched backwards and then sideways. She scrambled in. Most of the garbage had been tossed out already, but of what remained, she clambered under. The sound of the quake and now the metal bin threatened to deafen her. She braced herself as best she could in the thing while it bounced around.

  After a few moments, she began to hear things striking the outside of the container. “Bricks?” She tried to twist around to change position in order to escape. I have to get out! She swore at god and the world while she tried to heave herself around to get past the lid. A couple of big shifts caused the bin to flip over onto its lid. Now she was trapped!

  Two more big shocks sent her head into the side of the container. In a matter of moments, she fell unconscious.

  * * *

  Her head pounded and her knee screamed and she howled in pain. Terry couldn’t see anything. She took out her cellphone and turned the flashlight on. She was surrounded by detritus and dumpster. Boxes and garbage were in her way, so she went about moving the junk trying to locate the lid. The dumpster must have flipped over onto its side again because the lid was just to her right. She could see that it was cracked open at the top. Somehow it had flipped - hinges down. She kicked the junk around and swore at the world and then tried to stand on one foot.

  At least the earthquake has stopped. She shoved at the lid, it was wedged against something. Terry grabbed at the lip with both hands and tried to pull herself up. She brought her feet a few inches off of the ground. Terry lost her grip and then landed hard on her left foot which caused her knee to buckle. She fell down and banged her head against the interior wall. She stopped to catch her breath.

  Terry searched around in the bin and found a broken bucket, put it top down, and stood on it. She grabbed at the lip again, and with her good foot, pushed off. She was able to wedge herself between the gap and get up to her waist. After she swung her leg onto the side of the garbage bin, she looked around.

  Dust covered everything, it hung in the air and the wind was dead still. Off in the distance, she could hear fires and screaming. A pool of water had formed underneath the bin. She could only see the length of about a half a block because the dust was so thick. It was also pitch black outside. The only light she could see was what emanated from her phone.

  She checked the battery: 75% left. “What time is it?” She looked at that too, it was only 12 noon. It should have been bright out. They were calling for a sunny and blustery day. It looked darker than midnight, overcast. She couldn’t believe it. “No signal. Crap.” She put the phone in airplane mode and shut off the light.

  The eerie sounds of settling rubble plagued her fears. Then she heard someone a few feet away crying out for help. “Somebody, please. Help me.”

  Terry couldn’t see a thing so she thumbed her phone on and tried to look around with just the screen on. It produced enough light to see three or four feet away.

  “Help me.” The cry came again. It was a woman in distress.

  Terry eased herself down off the bin. She wanted to curl up and cry, but more importantly she wanted out of the city! Oh no, what about Mom? Her heart raced. Mom lived on the other side of town, about ten miles away to the east. Where’s east? She thumbed on the compass and it pointed east. She closed out the app and pointed her phone towards the ground.

  Terry began to walk. She drew closer to the woman’s voice. The light of her phone revealed a woman pinned under part of a building. Her legs were stuck but her arms and head were free. She shielded her eyes from the glow of the phone.

  “Oh, thank you! Please, could you help me free my legs?”

  Terry looked at her for a moment. She remembered the woman. She never left any tips when she came for a light syrup mocha with an extra shot of espresso. Terry shook her head at the woman, but kept her phone pointed at her. “Sorry, can’t help you.”

  “Please help me. I’ll pay you. I have cash on me.”

  Cash was a rarity in this day and age. “How much?”

  “Twenty-five.”

  “Sorry, you should have tipped me when you had the chance.”

  “What? Please help?”

  Terry hobbled on. Her knee was feeling a little better so she carefully put some weight on it. The woman continued to call after her, but her hard heart didn’t care.

  Chapter 2

  Terry could still hear the woman screaming out for help as she approached the nearest pile of rubble. She had to find her mom. She looked around for a broom or a stick or something to help with her bum knee. Mom was all she had left. Terry didn’t have anyone to call her own. Dad was some kind of drug addict that ran off west somewhere, with some woman, and left them behind to fend for themselves. Right now, she really needed Mom.

  Terry looked back over her shoulder, it was pitch black back that way, and terror filled the night. Maybe I should go help her? No, someone will be along shortly. Terry turned back to her task at hand, climbing the current summit of rubble.

  She looked down for a handhold and saw part of a broom handle sticking up out of the mound of debris and pulled at it. It broke free, the head remained below, but the mound she was standing on shifted and her left ankle sunk down into a hole. She panicked, jabbed the handle downward and quickly pulled her leg free.

  Terry shuffled off to her right a few steps to get away from the unstable area. Panic struck her heart. She suddenly realized that everything she stood on could be unstable. After she examined the broom handle she thought twice about summiting anything. But, how could she tell if she was walking into a pit or onto the crest of a toppling heap? How long did the earthquake last? How much is damaged? Why aren’t there any large fires? I could really use a hand. She thought for a moment then said to herself, No, not her, she doesn’t deserve rescue.

  “One mountain at a time, I guess.” She ambled around the area she had fallen into and carefully plotted her way up. The weak glow of her cellphone revealed all manner of junk: concrete, iron support rods, broken glass, and a piece of jewelry. She bent down and picked up the bracelet, examined it, and tried it on. It fit, so she kept it.

  Up ahead she saw a glow coming from the pile. It took her a minute to reach the glow. A flashlight stuck out of the pile and it was turned on! She reached down and picked it up. A hand waved at her spasmodically and she heard a voice. “Help me, I’m stuck!” It was a man’s voice.

  “No.” She replied back.

  “Please?” He sounded desperate. His voice was weak.

  “No.” She didn’t care about him, she had to find her mom. She poked at his hand with the broomstick.

  He screamed out in agony and pain. And then he swore at her.

  She walked on. “I don’t need men.”

  She put her cell phone in her pocket and scanned the scene. The beam from the flashlight struck out for about a block before its light diffused in the ash that still hung in the air. The climb was tougher than she suspected.

  * * *

  A few minutes later, she reached the summit. Terry panned the flas
hlight around. The pile she stood on appeared to be nearly a block long and two stories high. She looked down and saw a book laying there. I haven’t read a book in years. It was flipped open and pinned down by debris so she crouched down beside it. She saw an underlined sentence: “Then the king said to the attendants, ‘Bind him hand and foot and cast him into the outer darkness. In that place there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.’”

  “Weird.” She looked up and turned off her flashlight. She listened for a few minutes and heard weeping from all directions. It was utterly dark. What would it feel like to be trapped under the rubble, unable to move? Crying out and no one hearing? Her left leg spasmed and she gritted her teeth. Then, deep-rooted fear gripped her chest. She wanted to cry out for help, but she didn’t know who to cry to. Terry wanted to feel love, but there was no one to love her. She was utterly alone and no one would come to help her. She wanted to break down in tears, but she didn’t have time to cry right now. Crying is for the weak.

  Terry heard a noise behind her, she flicked on the flashlight and panned it over in that direction. She’d never known such fear before and she started to shake.

  “Fear not.” The man said as he picked his way up to her. “I come in peace.”

  He was an odd-looking fellow. He appeared to be marred by the recent events, but not as badly as she imagined herself to look. She kept the light shining in his eyes. “Who are you?”

  “A friend. I saw you up here all alone and figured I’d come to help. Where are you headed?” She scanned him over. He wore a light jacket, had a baseball cap on, and a flashlight in his left hand. He swung a backpack down from his shoulder. “Here, you can take this.”

  “What?”

  “It’s just a backpack.” He crouched down, opened it, took out another backpack and handed her the opened one. He unfolded the one he’d just removed and put it over his shoulders. He looked down behind her. “Oh, cool. An old book. Haven’t seen one in a while.”