Time Drifters

The whine of the aircraft engines was growing into a roar of thunder.

It wasn’t just a few of them, like you hear at an air show. There were dozens. They came zooming in from the sea, gathering like a swarm of bees that were knocked out of their hive. Huge red circles were painted onto the tip of each wing. The symbol on the Japanese flag.

I staggered towards the ditch. The planes were coming in low and straight at me as though they were going to land right here on the road. I could see the heads of the pilots inside and one of them turned and looked at me for a moment. He held something up to his face… maybe it was a microphone. I had never felt so terrified. I was completely out in the open.

And I knew why they’d come and what they were doing.

“They’re here!” I screamed, wheeling around and looking down the long road towards the west. The big yellow car was merely a speck in the distance.

“Wake up!”

My voice was silenced by the blanket of noise above. My warning was pointless. I covered my ears with my hands, as much to keep my mind from exploding out of my skull.

If I’d come in to try to stop this, I’d failed. I’d made up my mind too late.

There were high whistling sounds coming from the west and I turned to watch the first planes curve above the houses and a hangar on the horizon. And then something arched out of the plane. And once again. Bombs.

Within seconds there was a flash and then the sonic wave of sound thudded out and through me. An explosion. A fireball soared up into the air from amongst the metal mastheads in the distance. Billows of black smoke began to pour into the sky. The devastation had begun.

There was no help for them.

If other Drifters had already made it to the base, then God help them. There was no one around for me to help except myself. I’d have to go towards the sun and whatever town that was in the distance. Away from the flow of aircraft streaming in from the sea and banking overhead.

The fighter planes were coming relentlessly. Their propellers spun in a blur, screeching angrily as they raced past. I’d seen movies where planes could fire bullets down at the ground. Strafing was the word for it. Being out in the open here was the worst thing. But there were no trees, no bridges. Nothing around me that I could hide underneath.

I cowered, kneeling down and pulling the front of my black jacket over the white of my shirt. I didn’t want to advertise my presence. If I got shot here on this road, there weren’t any other Drifters around to help me. No one.

Another explosion. The noise of the planes was deafening and not a single sign that we were defending ourselves.

I had to go as fast as I could while the attack seemed to be focused to the west. I had to convince myself I wouldn’t be noticed. I started walking. One foot in front of the other, I told myself. I kept my head down, not daring to look up. One foot and another, like walking a tightrope.

I quickened the pace, certain that I was going to attract attention. But my body took over and before I knew it, I was running. The longer I ran, the longer the road seemed to be.

The stream of planes kept coming.

Finally, I saw a truck in the distance. It was large and tan. I started waving at it and then realized I’d better stop until it got closer. I slowed to a jog and then paused, my heart beat pounding in my neck. I felt slippery wet from sweat but I didn’t dare take my jacket off.

There was finally a lull in the planes overhead, but I saw more of them in the distance.

As the truck got closer, I began waving my arms, wanting to flag them down. Were the other Drifters inside? Could they get me off this road?

The horn blasted.

They could see me. I kept waving my hands but then the horn sounded again, short and then long and constant. They saw me, but they wanted me out of the way. I could see their faces and they looked shocked, almost disgusted. They were wearing brown uniforms and the passenger was waving his hand frantically for me to get over.

The rear of the truck had a pipe frame suspending a khaki tarp that was flapping madly as the truck whipped by me. I sheltered my eyes from the wind and the flying bits of gravel. In the back, there were soldiers crammed inside, sitting and standing. One of them lifted his rifle at the sight of me. I threw up my hands, as though surrendering. He kept that gun trained on me for the longest moment. But then he tilted it upwards and other soldiers joined him. A shot went out and then another.

The planes were soaring back and the soldiers were shooting up at them.

I was horrified. I took off, running as fast as my body would take me away from the enemy and away from the soldiers. Every moment, every second now seemed to hold one more precious opportunity to live. Every step I could take was a victory. Every foot closer to town was a notch of hope.

A second, smaller truck was coming but I didn’t even bother to stop or try to flag them down. I kept my head tucked and ran. My lungs felt like they were coming apart at the seams. My legs burned.

The horn blasted at me again and I heard shouting after it went past, but I didn’t care.

If there was a hell, I figured this is what it had to feel like.

My legs starting quivering, and I had to stop. I could see houses and small buildings up ahead, but it was at least a half a mile, maybe more. I was done. And as soon as that thought crept into my mind, it pulled apart something in me that cascaded throughout all of my limbs.

I felt the ground on my knee first and then my hands, scraping into the black gravel. My neck yanked forward as I hit and I couldn’t even lift my head. I started balling, gasping for air while my eyes stung with salt from my sweat mixing with tears.

I had failed and now I was going to die here. No one would know who I was. I’d be just a random body on the road. I felt so alone and I cursed the crystal and that Drift house, and I cursed myself for ever coming on this Drift.

There was another horn. Still crouching on the ground, I looked up to see it was an automobile. Dark colored. A full roof. More soldiers?

I turned to see the plumes of black smoke were now filling the sky above Pearl Harbor, rising up into massive columns and clouds. Fighter planes were still diving and soaring above the harbor. And small white puffs of smoke appeared in the air, as if out of nowhere. It was all getting worse.

I had to stop this car. I needed someone to know I existed. I staggered to my feet but then my legs gave out and I stumbled forward onto the road.

The car swerved towards the far ditch and then I tried to go back the way I came. But I’d stepped right into the path of it.

The metal beast swerved again, but the wheels were skidding on the road. The huge bulk of the car began to swing around as though it was rotating on its front tire. I froze.

I thought about that car skidding on the icy road the day that I’d met Miss Prankle. I’d been lucky once. I had to jump. I leapt to the right, tumbling back to the shoulder of the road, thankfully landing in sand.

I heard squealing brakes and then a thud. The front of the car had careened into the ditch and lurched to a stop as it crashed into the earth and reeds. Were they all dead?

I got to my knee and tried to wipe the sweat from my face, realizing that my hand had blood from the scrapes.

The car door opened and a man had just stuck his foot to the ground. He might have been saying something, but all I remember is seeing a glint of metal hitting the surface of the road about 60 feet to the west. The explosion was instantaneous, loud and sharp. All at once, shot flew into the grass at the side of the road and spattered the front of the car. The man recoiled next to the open door and I ducked.

When I opened my eyes, I saw that the hood of the car and a piece of the door had holes ripped into the metal. I spun to see if there was a shooter nearby, and that’s when I saw white smoke was still curling from something on the road, in exactly the place the car would have been if it hadn’t crashed into the ditch.

Still cowering with his hands over his head, the driver began to waddle towards the back of his car, but then everything went into super slow motion. I could tell I was Drifting. The shadow of another plane had just reached to where my fingers were touching the road, and the darkness inched forward with glacial speed. Like a solar eclipse, I remember seeing the shadow overtake where I was, at the same time as everything became chalky and distant.

There was a brief moment of peace and then I felt like I’d been slammed up against a wall. Something was wrong. I wasn’t peacefully heading back.