Another Creation Myth

Another day, another puny kid trying to punch him on the mouth. Deftly, from years of practice, Dan pinned him to the floor, cuffed his hands behind his back, taking the same time as swatting a fly. This was a minor irritation.
He’d sweated up 20 flights of stairs under his hard hat and heavy police jacket, to switch off a light in a top floor apartment that might guide an enemy plane in the dark. Planes had hit a skyscraper in the financial district at midday.
It was the last one on his patch. Usually on Wednesday evening he coached football at a boys home nearby. After this, he’d drop by and see how they were doing.
Catching his breath, he went along the corridor, towards the light. He knocked, pushed the door open, calling out, “Police” in the hall. Rap music was playing. He called out again and entered the room.
The musty smell made him fear the worse.
Green hair was poking above an armchair. Looked like a child’s toy at first. As he went further into the room he saw a slight figure slumped underneath, a pale face accentuated by dyed spiky hair. The light from the TV reflected off eyebrow and nose studs, above baggy jacket, grey t-shirt and jeans.
The figure was absorbed in a computer game on the screen. Beside the chair an empty pot noodle lay on its side next to crumpled coke cans and half a chocolate bar.
Dan stood in front of him, gently tapping his shoulder to get his attention. The boy flicked his eyes to him and back over Dan’s shoulder to the screen.
“You have to evacuate, son.” Dan said, “Can we turn this off?”
The boy shrugged and continued playing. Dan switched off the power socket.
Dan had the boy’s attention now. He stood and punched upward at Dan’s mouth.
While the boy was pinned down, he shouted in high pitched voice that Dan shouldn’t have put the screen off. Next he was angry that Dan was infringing his human rights, he needed to get his ipad and phone before they left.
He refused to walk. Dan carried him to the stairwell.
“What’s your name? “
The boy replied “Alex”.
“It’s up to you, Alex, want to walk down?” Dan said. Alex didn’t want to do anything this man said but it was less humiliating than being carried. Alex nodded sulkily.
Dan unfastened the handcuffs at the next floor. Alex grabbed the handrail and they moved quicker.
At Floor 10 Alex was gasping. Who used the stairs in the 21st century. He needed to breathe and drink water.
“Got to keep going”, Dan urged.
“More Police brutality,” Alex grumbled.
On the 5th floor, Dan asked, “You seen the news today? “.
Alex hadn’t.
“There was a terrorist attack in the financial district. It’s chaos outside.”
Alex shook his head.. “My dad works there. He’d have phoned. More bull shit.”
They were distracted by a bang shaking the building, then a loud booming noise. Dan shoved Alex in the corner of the stairwell, covering him with his body.
Another boom and another shake. They stayed still for a minute, holding their breath. Even so, Alex gagged on the smell of Dan’s sweat, far too close and personal.
Smokey dust and a few bricks fell down on them. Dan put his respirator on. Whatever happened was not good.
Alex did not expect the energy rush. He’d been bored, killing time until Dad got home. Hardly noticed Dan was there at first. Now it was all too vivid, choking dust, falling rubble, a broken handrail clattering down the stairwell . He ached from the crouching position he’d been in. He’d survived. It was the best day ever.
They moved as soon as things were still. Dan handed Alex a cloth from his pocket to cover his nose and mouth. Maybe the big smelly brute had blown his nose on it but Alex was coughing from the dust and tied it on.
As they neared the atrium, the air was smokier. Dan signalled Alex to get behind and stay close.
The tall glass panels of the entrance lay cracked, broken glass s everywhere on the ground. Burning paper circled around the currents in the dusty fog.
They skirted the edge of the floor to the outside. The smell of burning was getting stronger. It was dark except for the orange glow of fires. Flaming debris was falling. Alex jumped away when a small piece stung his arm. He rubbed out the smouldering with the other sleeve.
Alex’s legs were heavy. His eyes were tired from seeing a way over uneven ground. They looked back from a safe distance. The top two floors had collapsed downwards onto the building.
Dan’s radio did not work.
They paused beside the stream of weary people making their way on the road.
“Maybe I should wait for my Dad,” Alex suggested. He needed to sit on the kerb and not go any further.
“No, kid. Better come with me.” Dan firmly led him on. Where to, Alex wondered.
I’ll take you to a home for boys about a mile from here. They’ll find you a bed for the night.”
“What? “ AIex shreaked.
“What’s wrong with that?”
“A home for boys?” Alex said, “Only thing wrong with that is I’m not a boy.”
“No plan’s perfect.” Dan replied, firmly pushing Alex along the road.