He took a step forward, then another, not hearing himself shout and cry out, unable to fight the pain of it all, until he felt an iron grip around his neck. Instinctively, he grabbed the old hag's arm and tried to wrench himself free but too little, too late. Her long fingered hand was a vice. Darkness started to circle his vision as his circulation was cut off, his mind losing oxygen fast.
Then he heard two very loud 'pop' sounds and watched as the left side of the old hag's head exploded outward. As she fell, she finally released him, and Keith fell to his knees coughing and rubbing his throat. There were footsteps running in the rain.
When he looked down where the old hag was, a very large owl lay on the ground, it's head little more than exploded matter. In its feathers, Keith saw the envelope. He fell over so he could reach it and grabbed it up before the rain soaked it. When he looked up, there was a sheriff there, holstering his gun.
The sheriff looked at the great bird, then at Keith, and then back at the bird.
He pointed down at it and said, "That is not what I shot. That is not what I shot at all."
"I know," Keith said. Both men had to almost yell to hear each other. "But you saved my life. Thank you."
The sheriff looked at Keith and said nothing. The rain rolled off his hat.
"Why don't we go inside," Keith shouted. Finally, the sheriff nodded his head. They made their way up the stone stairway with careful steps. The stones had become dangerous to walk on thanks to the rain. As he shivered walking up them, trying not to slip, Keith figured he'd likely need to do something about that.
After a long conversation in which the sheriff told Keith that it had been a woman named Jennifer Hodkins who'd called and asked the department to just drop by and see if he'd been ok, he shook the man's hand, thanked him again, and shut the door.
He sat on the couch and stared at the drying letter. He'd yet to read it.
Epilogue - Three Months Later
Keith sat in a folding chair, the lake water about halfway up the legs, and watched an orange cork bob some thirty feet in front of him. Not one fish had taken the bait but he didn't care. The lake was full of all sorts of life, and the breeze was just right. A small, Styrofoam cooler floated on the water a few feet away. He pulled the rope he'd attached to it and brought it over to him, opened it, and got out a beer. Popped the top and drank.
"Wow," the voice said, "this is something else."
"Jen?" Keith looked behind him and then he smiled. He stood up and walked out of the water and hugged his old friend. "What are you doing up here?"
"It's your birthday."
Keith laughed. "Holy damn, well I guess it is at that. I'd forgotten."
And he truly had. Since the night the sheriff had helped him, he'd come to terms with Becca, his own life, his past and sleep had come to him easily. The cabin only continued to feel more like home.
Jen brought a chair out into the water and put it down next to Keith. Then she sat in it, sloshing her feet through the water like she was a kid again. "Not cold at all. Almost could go swimming in it," she said. Jen leaned back and looked out at the lake.
"So," Keith said, "how's Becca?"
"She misses you. But she's fine."
Keith wondered if she was still with her new high school sweetheart, but he let it go. "I miss her, too, sometimes. I do not miss the fights."
Jen laughed, then looked over at him. "What happened, Keith? Out here, that night? When I called the sheriff to find out how you were doing, he didn't seem himself. Wouldn't talk about it except to say that you were fine."
Keith shouted as the orange cork disappeared under the water. He started to reel the line in. "Oh, nice!" he yelled out, "lots of fight!" When he finally secured the fish, it was a large Bluegill. "A good hand-size," his Granpop used to say.
As he lifted the fish out of the water, Jen grabbed the line, pulled the fish to her and took it off the hook. "Keep or throw?" she asked.
"Throw," he said. He was trying not to think about Becca likely yelling out profanities and running away.
Jen put the fish gently back into the water and it swam away.
"So," he said, "boyfriend up there in the truck?"
"Dumped him," Jen said.
Keith smiled."Wanna beer? "
The Red Planet Stops by
SEPTEMBER 21, 2017
"...again, a comet struck the planet Mars head on just hours ago, knocking the planet out of orbit. Mars is now dropping into a lower orbit, closer to the sun. This will cause the red planet to appear to plummet past our Earth in very close proximity and with a high rate of speed. Prince William has declared a global emergency. First responders are gathering world-wide, as I speak, while the red planet falls toward us, in the hopes that we may meet the crisis together.
"Scientists speculate that we will be able to see the planet very clearly within a matter of hours. The Pope has urged a state of calm, reminding us to believe in ourselves and hope, knowing that we will find a way to survive. Channel Five News does need to remind you, however, that Mars passing so close to our planet will have disastrous effects. Take emergency preparations. If you are near coastlines, we urge you to calmly head inland. Abide by all traffic laws and drive safely, please. State officials, Police Departments, the Army, and National and Air Guard will be out there trying to help everyone they can.
"We'll be back in minutes with more on this breaking story as we know more."
Within hours of the broadcast, the largest volcano on Mars erupted into a display of fire and terror, bellowing first white hot flame, then black ash and smoke. The whole of humanity watched as the planet of war fell past them, a ball of flame and ash, magma beginning to cover the whole of its surface. And then the world panicked as they realized that the ash was being pulled to Earth. Many standing nearly fell as the red, burning planet made its way toward their horizon, pulling the Earth itself, speeding up its rotation. The planet loomed; a ball of orange fire in the dark sky like some great god, intent on raining judgment upon the earth.
Hundreds died in the ash and black soot, then thousands.
As if Revelation had manifested, mankind soon realized that the worst had not yet passed. First Tokyo, then all across Europe, across the ocean onto America: debris and rocks, many large enough to fill an entire superdome football stadium, drove itself through the atmosphere, burning and spinning, and then pulverizing city after city, killing hundreds of millions of people. There was nowhere to go. Nowhere to run or hide.
Earth's days shortened to sixteen hours. The night was no less dangerous, but it saved much of humanity having to watch the horror unfold.
And yet still, humanity had not seen the worst. In the midst of the black soot, fire, rocks and destruction, Death had crossed. From deep below the surface of the war planet, old gods had arisen, not having been in slumber but imprisoned. The master of all, a great dragon, howled loud into the Earth night as these old gods fell once again to the surface of mankind's world, loosed again, set free to rule it for however long it lasted.
3 Days Later
Rex Cole had been sick for two days. While the world panicked and died, he'd been unable to leave his bathroom. When he finally emerged on the third day, alive, he couldn't believe it to be true. He asked himself if he were perhaps dead and somehow dreaming it all.
There was no signal. No electricity. Rex walked to his front window and pulled back the curtains. The window was cracked. Rex looked up and his eyes became wide. A boulder the size of a bus sat in the middle of a brand new crater not two hundred yards from his front door. He chuckled without really knowing why. He walked to the front door and opened it, stepped outside. Though it was early in the day, the sky was dark with ash and soot. Rex felt his own lungs burning with every breath. Where the meteor had landed, the impact had created the crater and blown hundreds of his pine trees down, all in a circular pattern. The trees that had not been knocked down were bent with the wind.
Rex began to back into his house as h
e saw the three tornadoes. They were all converging in his direction. He ran toward the back of his house, grabbed the wall and took a sharp left, down a hallway. He stopped in front of the door to the basement and opened it as he began to hear the familiar rumble of Mother Nature’s spinning agent of absolute destruction. Down the stairs he ran and ducked back into a small alcove just below the stairs. The whole house could come down now and he might just survive it.
The ceiling of the basement, the living room floor, began to creak. Rex heard the wind howling, even down below with no windows. Then he noticed he could feel the vibration of the rumbling in his hands and feet. There were screams and tearing sounds, many of them sounding very much human to Rex, though he knew it was just a trick of his hearing. Glass shattered and then there were ripping sounds so loud that Rex shoved his hands over his ears. He heard it all as his home was shredded into kindling right above his head. Everything in the basement shook, a wall of shelving fell and hit the old cement floor. Rex felt himself scream but couldn't hear a thing.
The rumbling began to die down, and slowly, so too did the wind. It all began to subside. As Rex took his hands off his ears, he noticed that the only sound he could hear was a loud ringing. All other sound was blunted and dull; like back row seats in an empty auditorium.
After a while, when he'd gotten some of his hearing back and his equilibrium improved, Rex took the stairs and at the top opened the door. There was no longer a house standing around the door.
"Well, shit."
****
And then Rex looked at the sky. He felt his own heart shrivel in fear. There was black ash and soot floating everywhere. The clouds roiled and twisted. He could see more tornadoes in the distance, tearing up the ground. Lightning flashed constantly, at times with green hues and other times a crack of orange lit the black, ashy clouds. The wind blew hard enough that it was difficult to stand still. Standing was even more difficult when the winds decided to abruptly shift direction. Rex fell down more than once. He walked out into the crater and stood close enough to the meteorite to dodge the wind somewhat.
He really didn't understand why he wasn't dead. To Rex, the soot and ash alone should have killed him. Maybe the wind. He didn't know and didn't have time to think about it much. Behind him, to the right of where his house once stood, sat his old Ford truck. Upright, to his amazement.
It took many short, calculated steps in the harsh wind to make his way to the Ford. He got inside and the wind slammed the door, nearly crushing his leg before he could pull it inside. The truck rocked back and forth like the wind was angry he'd found respite. The key was in the ignition and Rex turned it. After several tries, the old engine turned over and began to run. But right away, Rex noticed that something was very wrong. The engine shook violently. Rex put the Ford into gear and his reward was a sound far too much like an animal howling in pain.
He put his foot on the accelerator and drove away from where his house had once stood.
****
Not a mile down the road and the old Ford began to blow itself to bits, quite literally. The engine's rotations were all wrong, unbalanced and out of sync with the Earth altogether. When the engine blew a rod, sending it straight through the hood, Rex reached over and shut it down. The Ford coasted to the side of the road. He cursed and sat there in the truck for a while, trying to figure what to do. The wind rocked it again and again.
He felt the earth shaking and looked out the windshield ahead. Meteors were falling out of the sky, dragging fire and ash behind them. Rex was too stunned to be terrified. It was a sight that he'd never seen and the reality of it made hundred million dollar budget movie effects seem paltry. The sky was falling, right before his eyes. As each rock hit the ground, the truck shook slightly. Rex felt it in his feet.
Lightning followed the meteors, like Thor or some other old god might be right behind the disaster, casting it on the earth in judgment. Rex was no fool. He knew the world was ripe for such. He watched the sky longer, just to make certain. Soon, the sky let fall much worse.
When the first one plunked off the top of his truck and onto the hood, Rex let out a little scream. On the hood was a chunk of ice the size of a golf ball. And it was on fire. His mind reeled at the prospect, but there it was. The paint on the hood around the hail started to bubble slightly. And then all that icy hell broke loose and rained down everywhere.
Rex had to put his hands over his ears. After several small cracks surfaced on the windshield, he took the Mylar shade from under the seat and put it up. He knew it wouldn't do much but it might slow the hail enough to not be lethal if the windshield broke. Then, he ducked down as far under the dash as he could and tried to hold onto his sanity and the old Ford was beaten to a pulp. Rex kicked himself for not staying in the basement.
Thunder cracked the sky and lightning lit everything in brilliant and hideous hues as the hail broke everywhere around him, trying to force itself into the cab of the old truck. Rex was not too terrified to be impressed with the windshield. It was still holding on, though nearly shattered. He peeked over the door and the horizon was fire against black. The hail burned the forest in bursts, breaking what it did not burn. The sky thundered and screamed, the wind sometimes sending the hail sideways. Rex found himself praying. That tiny truck cab was the only thing between him and a very apocalyptic demise.
Finally, the hail began to subside and he could hear sizzling and fire. There he was, on earth become Hell frozen over. The wind whipped and he saw another tornado on the horizon, lightning circling it like a vine of light and death. But then everything grew still, as storms often do. Rex took his cue and made it his moment. He threw open the door and ran and fell until he'd made his way back to his basement, underneath a floor that offered only slightly more protection than the old truck. By the time he'd gotten there, Rex feared he'd done it all for naught; he'd die of a heart attack from all the running and falling.
But he'd made it.
He broke the door frame, pulling the whole facade down so that the door lay now atop the entrance to the basement. He looked around and found a hammer and nails and crudely affixed the door casing to the floor and the door into the casing. It would hold for a little while, he hoped. He went to the alcove beneath the steps and listened.
As he heard the wind rip and felt the tornado mercifully pass where his house once stood, Rex thought about all that had happened in just a few short days. It was all so surreal to him. He understood that this unreality was how his brain was keeping him from shutting down entirely. Rex could not shake the fact that he had no right to be alive; no reason. He'd done nothing. He'd known that the world was going haywire and hadn't prepared. A year prior, NASA had announced that they had calculated wrong, and that the old idea of a comet hitting earth was just that--an old idea. Having refigured the math, NASA had discovered a comet from the Kuiper Belt was on the way to collide with Mars. The scientific community had figured Mars to move entirely the opposite of how the red planet had moved. It fell into a lower orbit and hurtled right past Earth, and the devastation was, strictly speaking, Biblical.
And he'd done nothing. Rex had, like most people, simply sat back and watched the media screens tell him what would happen next. It baffled him, then, to be living. What baffled him more at the moment was: how to survive.
Rex was too tired beneath the flow of adrenaline to know when he'd passed out asleep.
****
He woke and his mind could not immediately ascertain all that had happened rationally at that point. Rex felt lost, alone somewhere in the middle of nowhere. He sat up and looked around the basement righting himself, trying to bring himself back into reality, harsh as it was. He didn't notice him the first time.
Rex leaned back and stretched. His lungs burned but otherwise, he felt rested.
"Seventeen hours. Impressive."
Rex let out and yelp and threw a rock at the far corner of the basement out of instinct.
"You missed. And I'm nine feet tal
l."
Rex rubbed his eyes and tried to clear his vision. Sure enough, there sat a monster of a man in the far corner of the basement. He seemed to damn near glow to Rex, but he just couldn't get over how big the guy was.
As if reading his mind, the giant said, "When did you all get so... small?"
Rex shook his head to the right and back. He couldn't speak.
"It will pass," the giant said. The giant looked upward, as if looking through the rafters and floorboards above.
His eyebrows raised slightly and came back down. "He did it," the giant said, "He brought down the whole planet. I wonder just how much He hated doing that. Destruction was never His forte, really."
Rex shook his head again, trying to wake himself up for he felt that surely he was dreaming. For the first time, he looked down at his own hands. He lifted them up and looked at them, focusing on them and then the giant until he let out a wail that startled both himself and the giant.
"Sorry," Rex said.
"Quite all right," the giant said. "Not unusual."
"You've..." Rex was somewhat astonished that he could finally speak, "you've been around, uh, us, before?"
"Thousands of times, Rex."
"You know my name. Of course you know my name," Rex said, "I'm dreaming. My mind knows my name. Really, this is idiotic of me. I'm sorry, dream person. I really don't know how to wake up."
The giant actually laughed and Rex felt himself calm instantly.
"I'm not dreaming, am I?"
The giant merely winked. Rex felt himself go lightheaded and then the world went black.
****
When Rex woke the giant stood above him. His senses came back quickly when he saw the look on the giant's face.
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