A LONELY WORLD OF WONDER: An Anthology ✓

Earthquake

It wasn't too early today. The boss gave Wyatt Higgens a nice two hour bonus of time to relax before heading over to the logging company down south of San Francisco Bay. Gladly, did he accept, though most of the pleasure was spent nicking at his hunting rifle beneath his suburban garage. A few would call that a waste of time. He called it progress. Hunting season was around the bend, and he wasn't going to have another bullet jam two years in a row over at Contra-Costa this year.

He lost three deer because of it.

But aside from his moment of solidarity (and a sleeping wife he didn't have to disturb), work still played out rather the same. He'd drive off, crossing turmoils of highway traffic, and drug-dealing wannabes, before turning into the MS Tree Service driveway. And, after a much-not-needed safety meeting, Wyatt found himself in a construction hat tearing through a fresh cut of wood at the lawn. That, and the constant belligerence of his intimidated co-workers.

"...I don't even know what he does on his time... no, no, I haven't asked.

Wyatt didn't pay much attention to it. He'd adjust his stance from time to time, flexing his muscles as he pushed the chainsaw into the wooden bark. Wood chips sprayed his brow and beard, some even clinking against the ruffled frame of his aged plastic glasses.

"...he doesn't say much... I'm not trying to sound rude."

"Alright," he turned the saw off, and planted a foot against the half-cut frame. "What is it?"

"Huh?"

"I mean y'all clearly talkin' about me. So what's up?"

"O-Oh, no. We, um..." one of the three hardhatters on display, Mat, struggled to find the words. "Sorry, it was about someone else. Not you"

Wyatt raised a brow. "Really."

"Sorry," Mat chuckled fearfully, taking a step back to the staring eyes of the man. "No, I'm... we're... we were going to Wild Wings on Thursday, wondering if-"

"If I'd be willing to go?"

"Well, I mean," Mat shrugged oddly, turning to the other three. "Y-You don't have to come, I just-"

"I'll come," Wyatt snorted, dropping the chainsaw down. "So long as my bets don't pay off half of the table. I ain't got that money."

"I mean, I c-could..." started Mat, only to pause as Wyatt began to chuckle.

"I'm just messing around. Deals will be deals, winners will be winners, my money's going to beer anyway. Just treat me right, and we'll all have a good time. Right?"

"Uh... huh..." grunted Mat, raising his hands. "Yeah... so I'll go get the car, and we'll..."

His words began to trail off from Wyatt. It wasn't personal, but it wasn't by accident. Something made his skin crawl, something made him look. His eyes peeled toward a pile of wooden cubes cut out evenly across the wood-infused land, enticed by a strange ripple in them. There was no wind, not that he could tell, but the longer he stared, the stronger that ripple became. As if someone invisible was flickering the end of the cut. And not just that, to his right, a thin crack began to cut through the earth, forming slowly, unbeknownst to anyone else.

"...It'll be some fun," He heard him finish. "So long as the Jets win."

"Excuse me-?"

He never finished. One moment he stood there, about to criticize the living hell out of his man. The next, he was splayed out the ground, splinters of wood now cut into his face and hands, and the wind knocked clean from his throat. A guttural roar suddenly erupted from beneath the earth, silencing the screaming cries of the life that lived from above. The earth lurched and bulked, kicking up dust and knocking the bindings off the buildings that surrounded them. Trees buckled like legos, slamming into the earth, startling the, still stunned, Wyatt into a realm of confusion. He noticed Mat struggling to his feet, hauling up the other two men and struggling to run. Not a single one looked back for him.

The ground churned and bubbled like a living sea, rocking them from side to side, and thundering in annoyance at their persistence. Just as Wyatt was about to stand, one of the cranes for the tree company suddenly slumped over, reeling over across the sky with a sickening groan, and slamming to the ground with such force that it blasted heat into the confused male. Wyatt didn't even hear the egg-like crack of bones until after the fact; he finally stumbled upward to the terrifying sight of one of the men crushed under the weight of the crane.

"Oh God, oh God, oh God!" Mat screamed, already sprayed with blood.

Wyatt slumped onto a bumping log, holding on for dear life. Above, wires fueling the electricity of the region danced about like bugs in the rain, before fate tore them from their hold and splashed into the quaking area. The second hard hatter fell just before it, letting out a scream of horror before it, too, struck him. Wyatt only had a glimpse of his flailing legs and spasming arms before turning away. The snakes of livewire coiled around him, biting into his flesh with reckless abandonment. Only after a few seconds, the screams went dead.

"Agh!" Mat dragged himself into a corner, ducking from the falling debris. He struggled to wipe the blood off him, he couldn't. And as he panicked, Wyatt saw the wooden logs atop the hill he was just cutting starting to roll over. His eyes suddenly snapped out of its haze. Without a second to waste, he hurried over the falling items and ripped earth toward Mat, snagged him by the shirt, and dragged him away just before the logs could kill him, too. They held each other beneath a small shelter of a fence and closed their eyes, letting the world shake them into unconsciousness.

Then everything went still. Absolutely still.

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(I was given a prompt to write someone else's character and a disaster of another person's choice). Hopefully this was good!