6:00 Hours: A Dystopian Novel by Chad Evercroft Page B

body lost to the sea. Danny felt sick. He swallowed down the rising bile with a grunt and hastily rubbed his eyes with his fist.
    Can’t think about stuff like that, he told himself. Not productive. Just hope for the best.
    It felt like a lie - a charade - but Danny knew it was the only thing that could keep him from panicking right now. More and more, he understood his mother. Taking slow, deep breaths, Danny went back inside, letting the gym door hit the back of his foot as it closed. He looked over the sea of heads, picking out people he knew, and trying to not think about the ones he couldn’t find. A circle of old people had formed in the corner nearby. There were about five of them - two couples and a single elderly man. Danny could overhear them whispering and praying with each other. Touched, Danny perked up his ears to listen. What he heard troubled him.
                  “Forgive us, Lord, for what we have done to your creation. Withdraw the breath of your fury. Do not send any more tornados to punish us. We beg for mercy.”
                  The prayer group members nodded earnestly. Two lifted their hands. The young woman with the apron was still behind the tables, handing out pudding cups. She raised her eyebrows in the direction of the group when Danny handed her the phone.
    “They didn’t even get hit by the tornado,” she said in a hushed tone. “They’re from the assisted living place down the road. They’ve got a great setup for tornados.”
    “Kinda seems like they’re bumming out.”
    “Well, you know how hard the media was on their generation,” the young woman reminded Danny. “All those TV specials on the not so-great generation and the planet killers , I’m sure it would get rough after a while.”
    Danny nodded. He did remember those shows, and the magazine stories. It had become relatively common for the two generations before Danny to be blamed for the abrupt climate shift that resulted in so many disasters. Their irresponsible burning of fossil fuels, overflow of landfills, fracking, and poor crop management hardly helped, but the climate change had been building for at least a century. It all went back to being able to have something or someone present to accuse. People from a hundred years were not still around; society’s grandparents were. Old habits were presented as cautionary tales and people who still held to them were shamed.
                  “Older people just don’t understand,” was one of the kinder phrases. “They don’t know how their actions affected the situation we’re in now.”
                  Anyone who worked in industry or anything relating to the environment who was over 50-years old was pushed out. An entire generation and a half was unemployed nearly overnight. Retirement benefits and support became less of a priority, as if society had agreed to punish those it saw as responsible for the climate shift. It wasn’t fair, of course. Most of that generation also suffered the most because of the climate change, what with all the health impacts from living near fracking sites or working in the mines or being exposed to radiation. They needed the medical care. Private organizations took charge when the government abandoned the elderly, but those kinds of resources were often overpriced and too expensive for a good deal of the poorer, older population. Many who should have lived another 10-20 years - like Miranda’s parents - died early, leaving Danny’s generation without memories of their grandparents. It was not a proud time for the country. Some - like the gym prayer group - took on that shame as punishment for their crimes against the planet. They went around bearing chocolate chip cookies for the children and words of warning for the adults, like smiling doomsday prophets.
    “Did you reach anyone?” Miranda asked.
                  She was sitting cross-legged on her sleeping bag with the