bits. glittering. shiny bits on slick white.

“glass.” “floor.” bits of glass on floor. me lying down. why lying down? am sleep? am crawl? get up, slooowww. hear self say “Uhhhhnnnnhhhh.”

   look round. big. big place. slick floors, stretching away. in middle, open space. many levels. floors below, floors above. fake pond. real tree. moving stairs. many rooms with signs say “Sale.” “Twenty-five percent off.” “New for Spring.” all over, more glass.

i put hand to head. head hurt.

also, us. many us. some standing. some getting up, saying “Uhhhhnnnhhhh.”

it event.

now remember. us here for event. i part of event. they part of event. event starting? event over?

not know.

why event? try remember.

something like… want. feel want. us all hungry for something. 

  but what?

there. smeared on railing: red. dark. sticky. on floor, too. i pull my hand away from head and look. skin gray. but also red. on knuckles. under nails. seeing red, something in me shake. sides of face pull back. now remember: happy. red make happy. this what want? think maybe—

loud crash. big pieces of glass falling on floor, exploding into little bits. look up. up, up, up. to top of place. skylight. big hole. raining bits. sky beyond: gray. smoke. smell.

  now us all getting up, moving together toward moving stairs. all going “Uhhhhnnnnhh,” like it hurt walk. look others. try understand. what happening. what want.

  this one in front: wear “suit.” gray. arms torn. red on collar. this suit for “deal.” “board meeting.” “ROI.” he want these things? his mouth hang open, eyes blank. 

  this one behind: all blue. blue skin. blue clothes. different kind of suit. what called? ah! called “scrubs.” for work by sick. we sick? no. just hungry.

this one beside: wear “dungarees.” “hard hat.” belt with “hammer.” stumble onto stairs, holding head. look confuse. much red on neck. stuck through neck (what word? ah! yes) “screwdriver.” feel face twitch again. screwdriver through neck… funny? remember funny. but is it still—

stairs end. almost fall. catch self and shuffle ahead, toward big windows. big hole in glass. us climbing through, leaving building. it not have what we want anymore. maybe had before, but not have now.

lurch out onto gray broken ground. “sidewalk.” ahead: “street.” much happen on street. much cars, turned wrong ways, smashed into buildings, doors open. much sound. shouting, horns, “car alarm.” much smoke. and also—many, many, many. coming out cars, coming out buildings, coming out ground, out “subway.” crouching. running. lying down. but now see—most of these not same as us. all “them” look different, somehow. skin less gray. clothes less torn. they part of event? they part of different event?

this one, holding onto post: his eyes… look want. look like want no more event.

but… us came here for event. why? why why why. try remember. try understand.

this one: white dress. married dress. face color of sky. hold dead flowers. look this way. look that way. where her person married to? gone?

this one: lady with big round belly. tiny gray hand coming out of belly (this funny? ha ha?). water come from eyes and run through red on face.

this one: black dress. man dress. “cassock.” X-shaped necklace. face green with X-shape red scar. hands press together. mouth open. try make sound. sound of—

screams.

i hear screams, coming from over there. woman standing over small body. child body. all red.

i look my hands: red. this red make me happy, before.

i look at red on child. that red… 

  bad. make throat lurch, stomach shrink, face tremble. make want weep. make want scream. make want look at sky and shout—

“Hey! You think this is funny?!?”

  over there. a man. one of “them.” standing on hood of car, liquid spilling from eyes, face mad.

  “Dressed the way you all are? You think this is funny? Some sort of fucking game?”

   he looking at me?

“This is real! It’s really—"

   now he choke, like he have screwdriver through neck. but he not have. just choke. when words finally come, they come high and broken.

“Happening! Oh god! It’s really happening! And you fucking DARE make f—”

BOOM!!!

him, them, us: all look down street. bits flying and so much gray, billowing up and coming down fast. we all turn and move. i try also go fast but cannot. feet slowwww, like not remember how.

“Uhhhhnnnnhhhh.”

(remember!)

“Uhhhhnnnnhhhh.”

(please remember! how go fast!)

“UhhhhnnnnhhHHHHH! ArrrggghHHH!”

big step, big stumble. arms reaching out, ahead, for something to help—

BOOM!!! 

dark.

whooooOOOOO whooooOOOO whooooOOOO.

loud. shaking. me lying down, and everything shake.

i open eyes. small place. white walls. boxes bolted to walls. windows on fronts of boxes. inside: “bandage.” “oxygen.” “AED.”

“—mostly cleared the area. What a fuckin’ nightmare,” hear someone say.

“Gonna be a double overtime kind of night,” hear other someone say.

“Uhhhhnnnnhhh,” hear self say.

“This one’s awake,” first someone say. “Sir? Sir. Okay. Yeah, you can sit up if you want. Slooowwww. Let us help you.”

“Uhhhnnnhhh.” sit up. see man. he wear type of suit. dark blue. “uniform.” letters on chest. one side say “EMT.” other side say “FDNY.” also woman, wearing same kind suit.

behind, lying on stretcher, another “us.” this one: also wear uniform. brown. red band on arm with “X” with little feet. bad. green face with small black mustache.

this one… ha?

think maybe was ha before, but now maybe… not so much.

or maybe was never ha.

(you think this is funny? dressed the way you are?)

“Sir, can you tell us your name?”

   EMT look at me. i look down at self. also wear suit. funny suit. orange and green stripe suit. big shoes. floppy collar. red all over. hear self say “Clown?”

man frown. say to woman, “Still in shock.” say to me “How many fingers am I holding up?”

hear self say, “Four.”

“Good. Can you tell me what day it is?”

day? 

  it day of event. feel pockets of clown suit. one have “money” and “identification.” (name: Doug Silliman) other pocket have crumpled paper. i give it to EMT. he get sticky red on hand. make face. mutter “Fuckin’ fake blood.” lady EMT smirk. man EMT wipe hand on pants, read out loud: “Gotham Zombie Crawl.” look partner, say “That explains it. If it’s not the goddamn drunk Santas, it’s some other ridiculous shit.”

“Gotham what now?” lady EMT say.

“Care to explain? Ah…” he glance at my ID, “Mr. Silliman?”

“it event,” i say. sound bad. do better. “It, ah, theatrical event. You know… costumes? Makeup? I my own. I did my own. Makeup, that is. My girlfriend Tina helped sew… Tina! Oh, god, is she ok?” 

“The attack was confined to midtown. Was Tina in the area?”

“Area? Ummm… was she? Area. Place. Big place. Stores. Escalators. Like in that movie… what was it… Dawn of the… Oh! Dead. Tina hates it. Too much… too much, um, gross… too much violent… too much red. She not… she doesn’t like it, so… no? No! Thank god…”

“Okay, okay. Take it easy. Your speech is a little confused. That’s not unusual, after a big shock. Just rest. The words will come back.” he looks at his partner, mouths trauma.

 she’s still smirking. she points at the other guy. “Can you explain him?”

 no. i can’t. right on cue, he extends an arm, goes “ArrrghhhHH!” 

 she frowns, clears her throat. “A bit ironic, isn’t it, scheduling your little zombie crawl on the same day as a Level One emergency Event? And of all the places to be today. Can you explain the, ah, point? When you do this, what is it that you want?” 

my face feels hot as I begin, “Want? us want, um, that is, we want…”

words shamble back into my head, slow at first, then faster. want. what we want? that is… What do we want? we want to feel, amid a daily barrage of horrors, multiplying, one spawning the next, a horde of numbing news items and dismaying developments. to feel, despite it all: solidarity. joy. even the despair we fail to utter. a Shape. we want shape… We attempt to give a shape to these feelings by making ourselves up to look like zombies. look. look this one. you can see it, here. and more: to give shape to this other thing approaching, felt but not seen, or maybe just not recognized, at least not in its entirety. a larger something. a looming disaster of brain rotting proportions. also, control. we can’t control what’s happening, but maybe by giving it expression… How is this all just occurring to me now? somehow, i never really thought about any of this before, but now, sitting in this ambulance, siren wailing, wheels bouncing over pulverized pavement, clarity descends rapidly, almost painfully. it’s not just ironic, this aligning of events. it’s symbolic. but i don’t say any of this to her. instead, i just say

“We just wanted to have fun. You know, lighten shit up. With everything going on?”

“Mmmm,” she says.

outside: another BOOOOM!!!

arg! pain. sharp. it lances through my head and the window of clarity slams shut. pain so bad it scrambles my thoughts, my words. owwww. uhhhhnhhhh! arrrrghhhh! head hurt! hurt bad!

it Event.

Event now.

Event forever?