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Charleston

A Short Story About Climate Change

By James LossPublished 6 years ago 5 min read
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Not since 2075 had he seen the water rise so high, as it threatened to swallow all of Charleston, South Carolina. Now, in the March of 2099, while Jordan Garrison looked out the window of his seventh-story apartment and twisted the cap off a bottle of rum, he gazed helplessly at the foaming edges of the Atlantic as its intrusive perimeter ebbed even further inland. He moved through the kitchen while he made his drink and continued to peek at his view of the ocean. Yes, the tides were higher this season.

The water’s encroachment began some number of decades ago, slow and unnoticed. Since then, Charleston’s peninsula had been steadily consumed by the two rivers which flowed on either side as the world’s oceans swelled with icecap melt. Standing behind his sliding glass door, Jordan could almost see the years of erosion taking place. The southern tip of the peninsula was sunken, not a building to remain as evidence. Fifteen kilometers inland the fossils of Charleston began to appear, like tree stumps in a marsh. Suburban rooftops peeked from the crests of the current and then sunk again. Their years of submersion created a swirl of city debris, which drifted throughout the streets with the push and pull of the tide. Jordan feared soon his building, too, would be taken under and America would lose more precious ground. He opened the terrace door and the smell of salty air tickled his nose hairs. The humidity clung to him and pulled on his features as he collapsed into his seat which faced the tide.

Jordan was born in 2047 at the peak of the “Great Floods.” It was the beginning of generations which would never learn the same maps as those before them. As the world transformed, Jordan grew up on the edge of the invading sea. Living on Joint Base Charleston with his father, an Air Force Colonel, the ocean was familiar to him. He would slosh through waist-high water in Hampton Park with his friends as they searched for floating treasures, such as abandoned trinkets and toys left behind in the evacuation. When he grew out of dirty water adventures, Jordan followed his father’s advice and joined one of the local Redevelopment Outfits (ROs)- government-funded agencies created to reconstruct and reinforce the cities they deemed salvageable, provide new infrastructure and build refugee settlements. RO positions were in the highest of demand after the floods, as hundreds of thousands were displaced. The pay was fair, with pension and benefits, but most of all Jordan could feel good about helping so many in need.

He sipped his drink with a scrunch of his brow. Jordan surveyed the shore, focused on the yellow froth lapping at the sidewalks, as he reflected on another stressful day of work. A crane was down for maintenance, the foreman had gotten his hand pinned under a slab of brick because of the new guy, and the conservationists refused to ease up. It was one protest after another with them. All of it just to protect another plot of trees. Did they expect the ROs to ignore the camps which overflowed with homeless? Should they let their citizens sleep in the rain? Jordan scoffed. The way he saw it; the land they were taking for new settlements would not be the environment’s final straw… that camel’s back had already been broken. Whatever damage had been done to the Earth was irreversible at this point. Jordan saw as a stop sign as it floated in the mix of debris, gradually rolling inland. Like a red lily pad, it glinted with the falling sun. He took a drink. If the water continued to advance, his Outfit would be under a whole new workload as hundreds more would be pushed from their homes. Lord, let it stay. Jordan would be long dead before the country could fill even half of its quota for new homes.

A deep groan bellowed somewhere over the water, echoing towards his terrace. Jordan rose from his chair and laid his elbows on the stone banister, holding his glass in two hands. Looking out over the Atlantic, everything seemed normal. The water was gentle and an opaque green. The houses stuck in the shallows looked desperate to keep their roofs dry and stretched to breach the water. Then, another groan, followed by what sounded like cracking rocks. Jordan scanned the rooftops. Most were single story homes with maroon, clay shingles, except for one municipal building which he guessed to be ten stories tall. His eyes focused on the standout structure and there was another labored moan as if the building was in pain. A second later it collapsed, depleted of strength. The floor just above the water level caved inward and the upper floors, suspended for the slightest instant, crumbled into the waves. Huge chunks of brick wall splashed into the ocean and the windows shattered, raining down an array of glittering crystals. Still slouched over the terrace wall, Jordan watched the destruction and took a sip. Others wandered out onto their balconies to investigate the noise. His neighbor to the right, Elias, looked his way.

“Another one?” he asked over the railing.

“Yep,” Jordan said and drank again.

“What was it?”

“Not sure. Hotel… maybe just a warehouse…”

Elias shrugged and went inside, sliding the door shut behind him. Jordan sighed and raised his glass to his mouth but received only ice cubes. He rattled the glass and set it down, watching as the water bubbled with the digestion of another building. The thermostat on the wall read ninety-three; it was the coolest March they’d had in decades. Perhaps things were changing. Maybe the water wouldn’t rise any more, but would recede and relinquish the civilization which it had begun to decay. Alas, it was only wishful thinking for Jordan. He dumped the cubes over the balcony and went inside. END

science fiction
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About the Creator

James Loss

Undergraduate student at Texas Tech University, pursuing a bachelors in creative media industries. Writer, student, proud dog dad.

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