This is the longest escalator- I feel like I’ve been on it forever. I’m not even halfway up. And it’s moving so slowly. The backs of the people ahead of me- not very flattering. And behind me there is an ocean of people staring silently up at me- their faces frozen a kind of hollow derision. My left hand grips my briefcase, my right rests on the oily rubber handrail, which is moving annoyingly slower than the metal steps I’m standing on.

The down escalator is within view across a stainless steel median, and now and then I’ll inadvertently catch someone’s eye. What a collection of doomed souls. They look to me like they’re begging me to take them with me, up instead of down. I stare back blankly. What can I do for them? Sooner or later our roles will be reversed anyway and I’ll be going down and they’ll be going up. I’ll be the one with the pleading eyes. At least then I’ll have been to the surface, inhaled some fresh air that was not recirculated ad infinitum. At that point I may as well be going down.

I look over and find myself inadvertently locking eyes with this red-headed girl on the down escalator. We’re locked in this stare when both escalators jerk to a stop. There’s an awkward moment where we both look away and then back. Then all the lights go out.

I feel a moment of clarity while everyone’s shouting and crying in the darkness. I calmly set down my briefcase and climb over the handrail, unsteadily spanning the median in the black void until I make it to the other side. I move towards where I think the girl was just standing and hear a voice that sounds like it could match her face. Hey, pardon me, I’m the guy from the up escalator. I was just staring at you before the lights went out. I’m reaching out my hand. At this point someone below us starts screaming a truly horrific scream. Maybe that’s what causes the girl to unquestioningly reach out and find my hand. I pull her up and, as the volume of panic increases all around us, we carefully climb the steel median, our hands locked together. Occasionally the steep grade causes us to slip but we don’t let go. We don’t even talk, we just hold each other’s hands like school kids and keep going up.

Ten crabs crawling sideways to the tune of “Marker’s Melody.” They each have little top hats on, little canes…

Do they have those little tap shoes?

Yes, they do. In fact they’re tapping away as they crawl. The curtains are starting to close. But then they open again and the little crab pops out and takes a bow.

Are the crabs at least a different color from the curtains? Otherwise it’s red on red.

Yes, the crabs are blue-green.

Oh. Is the audience applauding?

They are barking away and clapping their fins. The audience is all porpoises.

Porpoises don’t bark! They’re not seals!

These ones bark. They’re dripping wet all over the theater seats, curled in uncomfortable positions. They bark like mad at this little crab, who is quite the ham. Finally the curtains close for good and the lights come back on. The porpoises slither up the aisles and slip out the front door back into the ocean.

What happened to the crabs?

They’re back on their tour bus heading to another city.

Why don’t they just go back into the ocean too?

They don’t have time. Now the theater is empty except for a skinny cuscus janitor with a broom.

A cuscus?

It’s like a possum. They have them in Australia. He sweeps up the place and then his sister picks him up. She shares a takeaway falafel and then they drive home.

Where does he live?

Oxford. His father works in the science department. So the theater is empty now except for the ants.

Ants?

Yes, they eat the popcorn. But there’s one bad ant who’s a pyromaniac.

Oh, no!

Yeah, and he burns the whole theater down. Sorry.

—

Did the whole ant family die?

Yeah, pretty much. They either died or got severely burned.

Leave the poor ants alone!

They should have done something about the bad ant before it was too late!

What should they have done?

Sent him on his way. Which is what the survivors did after the fire.

Where did they send him?

Catalina Island. He went on a long journey where eventually he learned to care for others.

Is that how it ends?

Yup.

The encampments were hidden under the brown fall leaves, dug deep into the ground and fortified with stones. Back in May there were as many as forty-two people stationed on The Hill, designated as a transit point to Bruiksmark. The bears came in and wiped them all out. Even the little bears came in and bit the soldiers in their cots, while they were sleeping off a drunk. And the wild turkeys nipped and pecked and screeched, creating such chaos that the grizzly bears went unnoticed until they were close enough to lunge, leaving men bleeding out of deep gashes in their necks.

We always went up to The Hill, Petey and I, to rummage through whatever was left behind. Today Petey found an old, very useful camping stove. I found some ancient girly magazines and a metal box with some bullets.

But the bears must have smelled us because they came back. I was rooting around under an army cot when I heard Petey shouting. There was one gunshot then some branches breaking. I went out there and they tore a hole right through my jacket into my chest. I turned around, hyperventilating, blood spraying through my fingers, and I tried to pull my jacket back together. The big one took a chunk out of my back as I retreated deeper into the cave, holding one of the cots up as a shield.

There are no doctors on this mountain and no cars with any gas in them so I’m stuck behind this cot barricade for now with just a flashlight and these girls with faded airbrush tans to keep me from losing consciousness. Thanks, ladies. I know I don’t look like much right now, seeping blood as I am, but I love your smiles and when this is all over I’d love to make your acquaintance.