There’s a resistance. Bottles defy the gravity that begs them to drop and shatter. Dirtballs on the stools use the alcohol in their guts to inhibit their descent to the stick beneath them. But even the earth’s sturdiest nadirs cave under the pressure of tectonic force.
So, don’t fault the flies on the wall who flutter east or the birds who squawk as they sore away. It’s a symptom, a warning, not an irritation. And Kris, in all his glory, should have heeded the signs. That evening, the screw had finally become stripped and loosened beyond the point of return.
It’s difficult to tell in cities when night has truly fallen. Neon signs, street lamps and skyscraper offices unnaturally illuminate faces and concrete. Kris had debated staying home. Avoid the crowds? Sounds nice. See Jeremy? Sounds nicer.
Jeremy was standing outside the venue. The sheen of his leather jacket blended in with the hundreds of other so-called individuals who wrestled and scanned for companions before entering the show. It was an older theater, built in the early 20th century with few modifications made since to ensure its authenticity. When Jeremy spotted Kris walking up, he gave a half excited, half nonchalant wave and handed over the stub. The show was classic Southern California, a band who believed themselves above the fray, faithful to their roots, unwilling to compromise. Well that style, like the venue they were set to perform, lends themselves to a certain audience. In a way, it’s its own manner of selling out.
As they waited in line and exchanged pleasantries, Kris’ heart couldn’t help but give a clichéd flutter. This was the tricky part. When he needed to impress Jeremy while still appearing he could be as happy anywhere with anyone else. The games people play are perplexing to the outside viewer. Like a restaurant that charges astronomically for “gourmet” items. One joint charged $26 for a display of broccoli stems surrounding an ordinary head of a cauliflower. The menu simply has to read “of the woods” or “basil-infused” for those can afford it to begin salivating.
It can all seem so quaint, or downright ludicrous.
They reached the front of the queue. IDs scanned, wrists stamped, Kris and Jeremy stepped inside the rustic building. There was ambient noise rising from the auditorium where the opener was blasting and shredding through unimpressive, unrefined jingles and swishes.
“Let’s grab a drink then?” asked Jeremy. Kris nodded as Jeremy added, “Or two.” Finally, that elicited a smile from Kris.
A few plastic cups later, the mood had lightened. Kris’ body was less rigid, leaning in more closely when Jeremy spoke. The conversation was airy and time passed quickly, with the headliner reaching the stage before their tête-à-tête could dwindle. Guitars swelled and the kickdrum backed the mutterings of the lead singer whining and glorifying staying up too late and sleeping in too long. Kris and Jeremy’s heads bobbed along like machines.
As the third song began to pinnacle, the crowd started jumping up and down, shaking the old linoleum floor. Just as the singer took back to the microphone to chant along with the jolts, the floor began to shake further, uncontrollably.
The crowd didn’t seem to notice, lost in the moment of escape from the outside world. But Kris was startled. He and Jeremy, towards the back of the crowd, had not been participating in the revelry as greatly as those towards the stage. Although the floor had been trembling before, now, it seemed, the force was getting stronger and stronger. He grabbed Jeremy’s arm and pulled him back just as an amp on stage slid off its perch. The bassist wheeled around, annoyed at whoever had set it incorrectly, but realized something was amiss. Jeremy too swung around to Kris with a displeased expression. But Kris’ alarmed face snapped him out of it.
“We have to go,” shouted Kris. Jeremy nodded, always the more passive one in the burgeoning relationship. They quickly made their way outside and realized the pavement was shaking just as the floor inside in the venue. In the seconds it had taken to get outside, in fact, the ground had begun to split in parts, revealing tears in the Earth and water mains that were imminently rupturing. Kris had read about this. He knew it would take under two minutes for more than 10 million Southern Californians to lose internet, power and a sense of security. He grabbed Jeremy’s hand and they ran down the street.
“We should get an Uber,” said Jeremy, wildly.
“No, you boob!” responded Kris. “We need to get away from tall buildings, cars and find high ground.”
“Griffith?” “My thoughts exactly.”
The winding road to Griffith Observatory wasn’t far away. Yet all around them building were crumbling and being swallowed into fresh crevices. As they reached the bottom of the hill that leads to the observatory, Jeremy turned around and paused, mouth agape, he could see a skyscraper moving from side to side. Or was it him moving? Already, there was smoke from multiple fires in the air. He did another 180 and moved up the hill with Kris. They would not be ones of the thousands that would perish in this horror.
As they reached the summit, trees around them ripped from their roots, they moved in closer together and watched the world fall apart. Gas main explosions boomed throughout the city. They could see the venue, faintly, and it appeared the roof had surrendered to the vigor of the quake. The western wing of the observatory had fallen, the bricks laying in a heap. And most frightening of all was the darkness. The smog from the city’s cars continued to impede the light of the moon and the stars as always. But the usual glow from the towers and bars and shops had faded away as the grid failed to withstand.
“What now?” asked Jeremy just as the first powerful aftershock rippled beneath their feet. Kris fell to one knee and Jeremy helped him to his feet.
“We stay here,” answered Kris.
The next morning, the duo woke up in the dirt after a few short hours of rest. The aftershocks had kept on throughout the night with diminishing frequency and oomph. Kris’ knee was scraped and his jeans torn but otherwise they were unharmed.
“Fuck, I hope my cat’s ok,” said Jeremy.
“She’s a nasty bitch. I’m sure she’s fine”
The city beneath them said otherwise. Smoke continued to rise and one of the skyscrapers in the distance had fallen sideways into the one across the block. It would surely collapse completely before long. Just as the rest of the urban squalor had.