9/11 Short Stories

“Hello?” he called out into the darkness, “Mom?”. Everything was flooded after the earthquakes, most of the people had left. Crawling into the ruined two story home Jack didn't know what was waiting in store for him. He waded past the living room table and chairs that were beginning to rot, glimpses of the past came to him. Him and his brothers playing cards at the table, everything seemed so clear,it’s been almost two months now.

Making his way through hallway he began climbing up the stairs, “John?” He stood at the door of his brothers room and sighed, opening the door he walked in, Trashed. Someones been here. Someone might be here. He gripped the gun tighter, and listened. Nothing. Slowly darting from room to room, everything was gone.

He drops down into the murky water and starts down W. Hayes Drive. Another flash of memories began to come over him as he passed all the corner stores and playgrounds he grew up on, now all destroyed and in ruins. He sighs “Sometimes things just don’t work out the way you want them to I guess.”
He glances at his watch, it reads 5:37PM, “Shit.” Picking up his pace to a jog he remembers the rumors from the evac camp about people who chose to stay in the city and live in the water, the “Floaters”. Whisper have been heard that they come out to loot at night and have grown insane due to overhydration, or Dilutional Hyponatremia. The disease distorts their way of thinking, and even

Breathing heavily he arrives, the doors are covered in scratch marks from the outside, the latch is broken. He quietly slides inside, a rumble emerges from the kitchen, he stops. He hears another and quietly begins to move upstairs. On the 5th step, a aching creek is let out and a loud slam emerges from the kitchen and the water begins wading quickly. Running upstairs he goes into the closet and leaves the door cracked. Silence. 5 minutes, 10 minutes, 20 minutes and he slowly opens the door and walks into the hallway. 7:09PM. He begins to clear rooms bedroom by bedroom, nothing. It’s dark now, making his way back downstairs quietly he hears distant moans and groans from the floaters, chills run up his spine. He begins to gather himself and push back into the water. The kitchen is covered in mold and rot, pots and pans scattered across countertops and atop the water. The photographs of family now rest at the bottom of the