The Sky Beneath Us (on hold)

THREE

Day 1. 15:30.

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Eve reached out on impulse as she fell through the skylight. Her arms slammed into the frame, and she slid until her hands made contact with the edge. The wood edge cut into her palms, but she held on for dear life.

Looking down to her dangling legs, the broken glass shards fell until they disappeared from view. Eve willed herself to a still, if she continued to move it would be harder to pull herself to safety. She knew that.

Blocking out the pain, the severe pain slicing into her hands, she took a deep breath and pulled. With a heave, she got her chest up, then legs, until she was lying on the slanted ceiling taking deep gulps of air.

Once the adrenaline subsided, and the pain came back in force, Eve sat up to look at the damage. Blood was beginning to pour from two large cuts in each palm. Multiple smaller cuts lined her fingers and wrists. She grabbed two nearby cloths and bandaged them appropriately. Her time in the military thought her many things - field dressings were one of them.

It took her a few more minutes to fully assess her situation. She was cleaning, then she flipped. No, everything else flipped. She was upright, normal. Stuck.

She looked up to the attic stairway, racking her mind for the most efficient way up. If she could get a rope - she knew there was one somewhere among the strewn boxes and crates - she could try and hook it to something on the next level. The process could be repeated to reach the hallway, but what then?

Where does she go after that?

Careful to avoid the gaping hole, Eve scavenged for what she needed - rope and an old fishing hook that belonged to her father. She tied them together, checked its strength, threw it up the staircase multiple times until it hooked to her landing's banisters. She gave it a few tugs - stable. Time to get out of here.

She wrapped her legs tightly around the rope and began to hoist herself upwards. The cloth around her hands did well to avoid rope burn - one good thing, she thought.

Getting on to the landing ceiling, she had to stop and think before her next step. Was she leaving the house, or was she going to stay and ride this out - whatever it was. Outside her house was the old monorail track. If she could get to that, jump to it maybe, she could follow it into the city. But would she find refuge there, or devastation? War was one thing, this event was something entirely different.

It was a risk she was willing to take.

She pulled herself up another level, gathered as much toppled food and bottled water as she could from her kitchen, bagged it. Not too much - weight was an important factor - but enough.

She gathered the rope, bagged it too. It would come in handy.

Eve jumped down to the first floor and entered her bedroom. She ploughed through piles of clothes, in search of something warm. Under her broken underwear drawer, she retrieved her military campaign medal. She pocketed it, turning around to face her destroyed room.

"I'll come back here" she whispered to herself, almost like a mantra. This wouldn't be her last time in this house, this home, she reassured herself that. When this was all over, she'd come back. She would.

Climbing onto her window frame, she looked toward the monorail's tracks. It was a couple of meters away, at least three. It was a long shot, but Eve could make it. She hoped.

Throwing her 'lasso' to the track, it took five attempts before it hooked. She tugged, it came loose. She tried again, and again. This time it held. The jump was all or nothing, if she fell...she fell to her end. Despite being an athiest, she blessed herself.

"Just in case", she muttered.

Eve leapt forward.

One meter. She swore loudly.

Two meters. Almost there.

Three meters. She would miss the ledge by inches.

The rope locked tight and jerked Eve forward with momentum. She lost her grip and slid to the end before grabbing on tight just in time. The rope continued to swing, becoming ever more loose with every move. If she waited until it stopped, it would be too late.

So Eve picked up momentum.

Each swing became more erratic.

She got closer to the track every bypass.

Almost...

The rope gave way as she landed hard on her back. The pain was blunt and shot through her like whiplash. But she made it, so she blocked it out. Meaningless.

Eve rolled over slowly and got up, remembering to keep her balance. Ahead of her, was the long and treacherous walk to the city, a place where she could find her salvation. Or meet her end.