Earth split open. A spiderweb of cracks. Some filled with water, others swallowed cities. One such city was Fairbanks Alaska. 

14 hours before the rifts. 

Winter ended after putting my truck through three months of -30 degree weather. The school year was over and so was my lease. My truck, affectionately named Baby and called much worse when I was working on her, had a bench seat in the back. With my stature, it was more than enough space. Living in the truck made it easy to move around. School was in Fairbanks, mountains were 5 hours south in Hatchers Pass, fish were 9 hours away in Kenai, and don’t even get me started on how far away Rex was. The man mostly lived on oil rigs by Prudhoe Bay.  

“When are you gonna be coming in? I need to know when to be around Anchorage.”

“I’ll be back in 5 days you hobo,” he responds with a chuckle. Our moms were close and most our childhood was spent on my parents plot, sneaking off with building supplies from the house to make our own forts, dodging moose, avoiding bears, and getting into trouble.

Rex wasn’t a fan of my transit lifestyle but had given up on changing my mind. I liked being able to pick up and move. Making a fire for cooking, getting a tarp up between trees and the truck on a riverbank before it rains, even the cold baths in the glacial fed rivers, as much as they sucked sometimes, were things that made life worth living to me. 

When Rex was in town though, I’d put away my “hobo lifestyle”, and claim the room that his family kept for me. 

I planned on leaving my camp, a nice little spot outside of Fairbanks alongside a creek with a forest of birch trees, in three days.

I fell asleep in my nest of pillows and blankets in the back of the truck after finishing my tea and putting out the fire.

It was 3 am when the rumbling started. 30 minutes later it ended. The creek I’d been sitting next to was gone, so were the birch trees, so was I.

I’d woken up to the sounds of the medal plane that hung from my rearview window jingling agains plastic beads. As a life long Alaskan, I was no stranger to earthquakes. Odd that there was one strong enough to really move the truck out in Fairbanks, sure, but not unheard of. I laid there waiting for it to end, only sitting up in concern when the cactus that sat on the dash fell off. It was getting bad. 

Inside the cab I wasn’t worried about things falling, that was until I pulled down the curtain and saw the creek disappearing into a landslide. Frozen in shock I failed to make a decisive move to get the truck or myself out of danger. The area the truck sat on broke away in a large slab that slid into the depths of the earth. Whether or not I was screaming we will never know because there was no one there to tell me afterwards. By some divine providence, the truck didn’t flip. The ground felt like it was falling away and shifting ever further down for what seemed like hours. Finally, it shuddered to a stop. 

The truck wasn’t on even ground, she was tilted to heavily to the drivers side. The passenger side windows were cracked.  Phone? No signal. Pulling gear out of my way I crawled to the front passenger seat. I pulled the handle, pushing the door. Not even budging. Sliding down I moved more gear to the back, my snack bucket had spilled everywhere. The driver side door swung open, nearly pulling me out. Stabilizing myself on the steering wheel and unintentionally pressing heavily on the horn I announced to the void I wasn’t dead yet. 

I could see the light of morning somewhere up above, somewhere very far up above. I stepped out of the truck, sliding a few feet in the shifting rubble, and turned around. 

When you imagine situations like this, you think “I’ll know what to do, I’m not gonna stand there like an idiot with my jaw hanging open, I’ll just be logical about it”, but staring at the sheer drop, Baby half covered in rocks, and the shimmer of dust caught in early dawn, my heart dropped right through my stomach an into my guts. Like a little kid who can’t even start to figure out that one really hard math question, I fell to my knees and started bawling my eyes out. My sobs echoed around me, mocking me with the sounds of my own fear. 

How much time I wasted feeling sorry for myself, I don’t know. By the time I picked myself, having thoroughly dehydrated myself, the dust had settled. With a clear view, the rift was deeper than I’d thought. Certainly deeper than the Grand Canyon, least close to double that and far more narrow. I wasn’t at the bottom either. The land slide continued down seeming to disappear under a ledge 500 meters down. The bed of the truck was half buried. The driver side was clear but rocks were pushed up under the truck, tires half buried. 

If there had been an earthquake of this extent, rescue efforts would be responding soon. I had enough food to last for a few weeks and water for at least a week in the tank in the back. I suppose the upside of living on the go was everything I needed was right there. Food, water, tools, firewood, even my hunting rifle under the back seat and the 10mm I’d picked up as my hiking buddy. 

I just needed to stay where I was and wait until someone found me. I could hear water dripping somewhere near by, well as far as I could figure it was near. The echos in this place were deafening among the absolute silence. 

I climbed up a little higher than the truck and moved some rubble. Using my brain to the best of my ability, I figured it would be safer to make a fire above the truck incase of shifting. It also wouldn’t do if there was a leak in the trucks gas tank that I somehow hadn’t smelled. Better safe than sorry. 

Next step, get the food tote and the cooler that was strapped to the back rack dug out. More than anything though, I really wanted to get to the box with the liquor and bath supplies, mainly for the liquor. I went to work, leaving the rocks in the back of the truck, just shifting them around so I could open lids. There was no telling if the weight in the bed was keeping the ground where it was. 

Night fell and stars looked down at a nice little scene. I had a small fire going and was doing my absolute best to pretend it was just another camp site. The kettle screamed at me and the chicken I’d had in the cooler was reheating over the fire, plus there were 5 of the fruity jack Daniel’s sitting to my left. After putting out the fire, I used wipes to get the dirt off of my arms and face. It was difficult to shut the door after crawling into the truck. The drinks had done their job well and I fell asleep quickly, no time to dwell on my problems. 

Several more days came and went much the same. It had me considering going further down to explore this rift. “Maybe I’ll take a look around in the morning”, I muttered to myself.

Something was moving outside. Voices. Voices! I sat bolt upright, scrambling to the front seat and letting the door fall open. 

“Eek!” The cloaked figure squeaked and started sliding down the rubble pile. 

“Wait!” I  started sliding down before thinking better of it and stopping a few feet away from the truck. 

The figure tripped and started rolling down, an “ouch, ah, shit”, accompanying each bounce. 

“Oh, that looked painful, YOU OK?” I yelled the last bit, but got no responce as they gained their feet and scurried off under the overhang. 

“What the hell?” Getting a sinking feeling I backed up to the truck as best I could, almost falling twice. Quickly as I could, I climbed in and dug under the pillow for my hiking buddy. That was suspicious at best and had me on guard. I felt like I was both too confined and too exposed in the truck. I left the truck, making sure my hiking buddy was held ready, safety still on, but my thumb was ready to change that if needed. 

It was well into the afternoon if the light was anything to go off of. After half an hour of watching and waiting, the only thing I was picking up on was the growling from my gut. Sliding the 10mm into its holster on my hip, I moved to get brunch ready. Day came and went. I sat, wrapped in a blanket sitting above the truck. I decided not to make a fire after the earlier encounter.

I climbed back into the truck, locking the doors and nodding off at some point in the night.

“Knock knock!” A woman’s voice sounded from outside making me jump and reach for the 10mm.

“And you’re sure it was a human?” Voices wipered outside.

“Who’s there?” I shouted out.

“Hello dear, it looks like you ended up in a rough spot of trouble. My granddaughter found you yesterday. We’re just here to help.”

Adjusting the holster, I conseal my gun and cautiously open the door. A kind looking older lady was standing there, smiling about a meter away. Next to her was a sulky looking teen with a bruise on her cheek. Both wore long grey cloaks. “Did you guys also get dropped down here?”

I slid out of the seat not sensing any malice.

“Oh no, we live here. Seems you’ve dropped in for a visit, pardon the pun.” She laughs at her own joke.

“Huh? You live here? Underground?” There were no record of underground caves around Fairbanks.

“Going on 5 generations.”

“Oh…ok?” I didn’t have anything response.

“Why don’t you come along, we’ll take you into town”

“There’s a way out to Fairbanks? That would be great!” I could feel the hope rising. I could get back to the surface.

“Oh no dear, that town on the surface dropped right through the ceiling and there’s not much left to it.”

“What?”

She continued like she hadn’t heard me. “Come along, we’ll get you home and get you a bath drawn up and some food…” she trailed off seeing the blood drain form my face. “Dear you don’t look too well.” She stepped forward to offer her hand.

I had friends there, my head was spinning. Were they ok? It was a joke. Had to be.

I let her take my hand, still in shock. She started leading me down the slope talking about what kind of food she had, how nice a bath would be, how she hardly believed her granddaughter when she came running yelling about a human…

Wait. A human? They way she said it…

I look down at her face as she turns to look back over her shoulder, her hood falling back.

Her ears…they were fuzzy? Kind of cone shaped? And there was a small set of horns curled around her ears.

“…”, I stopped, my brain trying to make sense. I pulled my hand away, stepping back.

“What is it dear?” The creature turned and took a step up the rock. The leg that stepped out of the cloak was covered in hair, and I don’t mean didn’t shave in a few days, covered. In place of a foot was a cloven hoof.

“What? What are you?”