Peppermint Bridge

[zerchristforu]

In a suburban neighborhood, an old Sequoia tree stands resolute against gray skies. A man in blue jeans, sneakers and a dark gray wool trench coat walks down the sidewalk, with hands in his pocket and shoulders hunched upward. Double decker houses line the sides of the streets. It’s motionless, windows without movement or signs of life. It’s quiet. Somewhere, a dog barks. The overhead is packed with heavy juxtaposed nimbus clouds of gray as the daylight rapidly approached it’s end. A faded blue accompanied the black surfaces of inanimate objects caused by cold rain. A few leaves were scattered across the ground, some being caught and rolling over in the light wind. There’s garbage cans tipped over with trash spilled out on to the street.
The man walks a little ways and crosses the street, carefully not stepping on an old diaper with a recycle symbol printed on it and some pieces of paper talking about some kind of Church. He walks up the sidewalk and opens the wooden oak door with cut away pieces of glasses embedded in it for design. With one step, he walks inside, shuts the door behind quickly and shakes his jacket. He’s standing in a small vestibule area. A coat rack is on his right and a console table is on his left, with a single candle burning brightly on it.
A doorway on his right reveals his daughter, Christina, sitting quietly, in the dark, with a solemn look in her eyes. She dressed in a clean dress and her hair is done with a hairpin and a bow. She has sandals over her frilly socks.
Through the walkway on his left is a living room. A few couches are assembled around a table with a glass top sitting on a throw rug with a concentric circle design. A television is mounted above a fireplace that sits prominently, jutting slightly outward, in the middle of the back wall. He’s reminded that just a few days ago, they were all there together, him and his wife snuggled on the couch. His daughter playing on the throw rug in front of them
He looks at his daughter carefully in the eyes and she only looks back, somewhat frightened.
“Marlene!” He yells, alertly. There’s no answer.
He takes a few rushed steps through the hallway and into the back room, also known as the laundry room, where the washer and dryer are. There’s a few cupboards above the washer and dryer and a utility drawer next to it. He rushes up the stairs, gripping the oak finish banister for extra thrust as he bounds up the steps. He finds his wife upstairs, packing her clothes into a suitcase.
Downstairs, Christina is eating Lucky Charms in the dark, except for the candle light in the main hallway. She can hear her mother and father upstairs talking. They’re speaking in hushed tones and hurried voices.
Upstairs, the father and the mother are grabbing miscellaneous objects from their closet and throwing it into carry on bags. He grabs a hand held radio and he attempts to turn it on. He realizes that it’s not working. Opening the back, he discovers to his dismay that there’s no batteries. Hurriedly, he rushes back down stairs and heads to the laundry room. He starts rooting through the cupboard, shifting laundry detergent and snuggles dryer sheets, and closes the doors with a slight slam, unsatisfied he moves on to the utility drawer.
He roots through the utility drawer, shifting back and forth a hammer, a box of nails, an old fire alarm, a screwdriver, some old wires, some screws. Unsatisfied again, he starts dumping stuff on the floor. He slams the utility drawer and heads back into the kitchen with the worried look on his face.
He walks into the kitchen. There’s a candle burning brightly placed within a bronze candle holder on the marble countertop, illuminating many drawers and cupboards. There’s bags with groceries laying on the countertops. He takes a quick look inside and sees a box of Fruit Roll Ups, a box of Nutri-grain, and a roll of Bounty paper towels. He takes a few steps in the kitchen, checks a drawer and a cupboard for batteries, gives up rather quickly and goes to the living room.
He looks around, and sees another candle burning brightly within a glass cylinder. He sees a remote control and a teddy bear sitting on the glass table. He opens up the remote control and sees two batteries. The hand held radio requires four. Alarmed, he desperately turns over the teddy bear for a concealed battery cover. He finds it, opens it and discovers four batteries. Ashamed, he pops them out and puts the doll back on the table.
He inserts the batteries into the hand held radio and switches it on. He adjusts the setting until he finds a radio broadcaster. He moves to the dining room and looks at his daughter in the eyes again. He can tell she’s scared. Everyone in the whole world is probably scared right now.
Rapidly and annoyed, he turns the dial on the radio and searches for a different voice. He tries to think for a minute of any local radio stations that he might prefer but he can’t think of one because he doesn’t listen to local radio. Then he remembers Bob Halkoshki of KXLX, 99.9, the Middle. The last time he heard this guy, he seemed like your prototypical radio DJ, happy, sunny and always playing the classic hits, back in the days when he was into that stuff.
He settles on it. The voice is not joyful though, he sounds solemn, slow, and scared, as he says, “It appears that… there’s blocked traffic on Main and Division streets. Car accidents. Our news correspondents can’t get out of the field due to blocked traffic. If you guys can hear me, just know that we’re hoping the best for you guys. Stay safe.” Says the radio announcer.
He shifts the radio station again and after some whizzing and popping sounds, settles on another radio station, one that he typically listens to.
“It’s the end. The end has come.” Says a radio broadcaster, “Make sure your soul belongs to Jesus, I’ll show you how, with a single, simple, short prayer…” Says a pastor in a grave voice.
“Patrick!” Yells his wife from upstairs. He rushes upstairs.
“Dear?” He looks at his wife who has the bags packed and they’re ready to be moved down stairs.
“I just heard the traffic is backed up on Main and Division, I don’t know if we’re going to be able to get out of here.” He says, alarmed.
“Well, we can’t stay here, can we? What if the looters come? You don’t own a gun and you can’t fend for yourself.” She says with an alarmed voice and sympathetically adds, “You’re no Chuck Norris, you know. Help me with these bags.”
He hesitates for a moment and then grabs a bag. He then moved them downstairs.

“Oh Lord, I pray that nothing bad will happen to us.” Says his wife, anxiously, as she grabs and moves a bag downstairs and to the right. They move both of their bags to the vestibule room. Then they go back to the kitchen, grab their sacks of groceries and move those next to the luggage.
He ushers Christina to join them and out the door they go, heading to the GMC Envoy parked in the driveway, making a couple trips for all their stuff. Patrick gets in the driver seat and Marlene is in the passenger seat. They strap little Christina to the back seat. His Dad starts the SUV and heads down the street.
“Daddy, where are we going?” asks Christina with wide eyes, docile, peaceful.
“We’re going to visit your Auntie in Georgia, dear.”
“Why are there crashed cars everywhere?”
“I don’t know dear, it’s okay though, You’ll be fine.”
“I don’t like this. I’m scared” She says, sadly.
“Eyes on me, honey, eyes on me.” Says her mother.
They drive down the main roads to get out of the city but they’re all backed up. There’s two loud rumbles that shake the Earth. He grabs hold of the steering wheel and evades winding up like the rest of the wreckage on the side of the road. He keeps driving down Halford street because it’s the street that drives along the river. He’s looking for a clear bridge to get over the river.

There’s wrecked cars everywhere, Chevrolets, Lexuses, Sedans, Jeeps, Hummers, all kinds of vehicles strewn about on the sides of the roads. Trash and newspapers blow around in the wind. There’s building rubble strewn about on the sidewalks. Another rumble and he stops the car for a few seconds. Christina begins crying and her mother tends to her, attempting to console her with kind and encouraging words.
“There, I think I see a clear bridge ahead!” He said, pointing his finger.
The bridge is marked with white pillars on either side, that seem to have a coalescing effect in the headlights. Looking at the bridge, the pavement doesn’t look quite right. It has a kind of pearl-esque look to it. He decides to get on it. He drives down it. There’s another rumble again but it doesn’t shake the Envoy this time.
He looks out the window and a great sense of peace fell over him. It seemed everything was quaking. The sky was shaking, the Earth was shaking. Everything was dark and rumbling. Yet, here he is, on this bridge he was so happy to find. He takes a deep breath of air and feels better about his situation, about the world around him and everything that transpired. Suddenly, it all seems in harmony. There’s nothing to worry about. His daughter stopped crying. He looked into his wife’s eyes and she had a reassuring look as well. He reached over with his hand and she reached into his hand and they squeezed their hands together. He suddenly forgot about the world and forgot about driving. The car just seemed to drive on, staying on it’s path. They weren’t paying attention but a large hand was reaching for them on the other side.
“You know, dear, I think everything is going to be just fine.” He said.
“Yes.” She said, tears of joy in her eyes as she smiles genuinely, “I believe it too.”
His daughter was looking at them and then looked out the window and she saw the bridge. It looked white, like the Menthos she liked to eat. She liked peppermint, she thought, she wondered if her parents brought any. Outside down below, the bridge, it wasn’t water. It was a burning, orangey, red, like molten lava color. She thought she could see people down there. She wondered what they were doing. After looking at them carefully, she saw them moving around, with their hands in the air, zig zagging back and forth and twirling around. They must be playing, she thought. They must be playing.
“Daddy?”
“Yes Dear?” Both parents looked back at her. In front of them, a giant hand with a white sleeve gripped their SUV so gently they couldn’t feel it.
The world through the windows of the SUV became two shades, white and light blue.
“Why are there people playing in the lava?” She asked, curiously.
“What do you mean Dear? What lava?” Her father asked.
“I mean… that…” Then she thought for a second, chasing after the thought.
“I don’t know Daddy. I mean I don’t know what I was talking about.” She kicked her feet in her chair, joyfully.
Simultaneously, the Mother and Father looked at each other, overwhelmed with satisfaction, “We’re home.” They nodded, absolutely certain.