Dust to Dust: An Apocalyptic Thriller

by Bridget Bundy

  I feel like there must be a logical explanation. Why are we leaving our life behind based on unfounded facts? Okay, so a helicopter crashed in front of our apartment, but that doesn’t mean aliens have arrived. And when it comes to electricity, it goes out sometimes. Someone could have hit a pole. One of the electrical towers might have been struck by lightning early this morning. Any rational explanation is possible.

  “Michael, we have to talk.” This is not going down as he thinks, and it’s time to get back to common sense.

  He turns, looks over his shoulder.

  “I’m not going anywhere!” I stand still, holding my ground with my arms crossed.

  He stops and comes back. With those big brown eyes, he’s telling me that I'm unreasonable. With my little brown eyes, I’m saying to him that he’s nuts. We understand each other clearly.

  “Are we seriously going to do this right now?” he asks.

  “Yes, we are.”

  “You don’t believe the aliens are here, do you?”

  “I haven’t seen any real evidence. What we saw on TV could have been a movie.”

  “Those images were real. The aliens are here.”

  We’ve gained the attention of concerned spectators. They whisper to each other.

  “I’m going back home,” I reply calmly. “This, whatever you think it is, is not real.”

  Michael huffs and shakes his head.

  “Why are you so convinced?”

  “Why aren’t you?”

  “Because it doesn’t make sense.”

  “That’s the problem with you, Kris.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Just because you think it’s impossible or wrong doesn’t mean it can’t be true. Everything doesn’t rotate around your way of thinking.”

  “We are not leaving. I mean, you can if you want, but I’m not.”

  “For the last damn time, we are not staying.”

  “You can’t te…”

  Oh my god. I can’t believe what I’m seeing.

  Above the downtown skyline, I see the impossible. The Octere, the same kind of spaceship I saw on television this morning, glides straight down towards the skyscrapers. The spaceship is massive. The hull tiles switch between black and gray, while lights travel along its skin. It reflects the land below, showing broken uneven buildings and streets, while the top part mirrors the sky.

  I back up, meaning to run, but Michael grabs me before I can take off. I’m so physically terrified; I can hardly stand. I can’t wrap my mind around what I’m seeing. I want to know how it’s possible. I want to know how they got here and why.

  “Kris, it’s okay. Let’s go.”

  Michael takes my hand. At the next corner of North 25th Street, we turn right, going up the hill. The spaceship is now at our left. Halfway up the block, a building blocks our view. My head swims from the sight. I have no doubts the aliens and their spaceships are real, but now I’m scared out of my mind.

  “Are they only in Richmond?” I ask Michael.

  “You heard what the news said.”

  “What do they want? Why are they here?”

  Michael is trying to find an easy way to break his pessimistic views. I search his face for hope anyway.

  “I think they want to wipe out the human race.”

  “They can’t kill seven billion people.”

  “Why not? We can wipe out an entire species of animals in a matter of years. With their technology, I bet it won’t be a stretch for them.”

  “What are we going to do?” I ask nervously.

  “We’re going to fight like hell to survive this thing. That’s what we’re going to do.”

  C H A P T E R

  3

  After only walking a block on North 25th Street, we make a left on East Grace. About a mile down, the road dead ends on top of a hill. A crowd gathers, all looking at an unhindered view of downtown Richmond. No longer the center of attention, the skyscrapers are overshadowed by the Octere.

  Michael won’t hear another argument from me about leaving this city, the existence of aliens, or spaceships. I’ll gladly start over somewhere else.

  Michael leads back through the crowd to North 22nd Street, where we make the left on East Broad. We’re going downhill with a much better view of the Octere. People are on their porches, sidewalks, and in the middle of the street, entranced by the sight. Michael and I walk the center double yellow line, in between stalled vehicles and onlookers.

  Suddenly, I’m pushed against a car by young guys. They press through, not caring who they run over. On their heads are aluminum tin hats. They carry posters and chant in cadence, “The aliens are here! The aliens are here!”

  They go around Michael instead of pushing him out of the way. I supposed it’s because my brother is bigger than they are.

  “You okay?” Michael asks, rushing back to me.

  “I’m fine.”

  “Stay close. People are going to be a problem more than the aliens.”

  More bad news on top of his doomsday premonition.

  The closer we get to downtown, the more my anxiety amps up. We’re getting closer and closer to the Octere. I have to find out which route Michael plans on taking.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Pennsylvania.”

  “That’s not what I mean.”

  “Okay.”

  “Are we going downtown? Because if we are...”

  “We’re headed for Shockoe Cemetery, and from there we’ll get on Brook Road.”

  “I’m just making sure. I don’t want to go anywhere near that spaceship.”

  Within minutes, we get to Oliver Hill Way. Cars choke the intersection. There are no drivers and no passengers, but a few people socialize on the sidewalk. The spaceship looms ahead. I feel as though it’ll swallow us whole. Michael waves for me to follow him. We walk at a quicker pace. The whole time I keep my eyes on the ship.

  Suddenly, a panel opens. Lights twinkle against a dark background from within. I watch with bated breath. Nothing happens for what seems like a long time, but then there’s movement. The twinkling lights disappear. A swarm of smaller ships spews out. They take off in different directions. Michael and I run, along with whoever else is around us.

  The gym bag knocks at my side, making it tougher for me to keep up. He heads for the nearest door and pulls on it. It’s a store, and of course, they’re closed. It’s not nine in the morning yet. He looks around and up, trying to see if any ships are coming our way.

  Being out in the open like this makes us a target. We have to find cover fast. Up the street, I see a possible hideout. A clump of trees sets between two brick buildings, and it’s not that far from where we are.

  “Michael, c’mon!”

  I run as fast as I can while gripping the gym bag so it won’t hit my side. I get to the clump of trees and crawl on my knees underneath.

  “Are you kidding me!” Michael yells.

  “It’s this or stay out in the open!”

  Michael looks like a roly-poly bear, trying to get under the trees and brush. I scoot over to make room for him. We can only see a single tall building downtown and a large part of the Octere. Two smaller spaceships swing around to that building. Red lightning erupts from their hulls, striking it. With one hit from each, the structure explodes into a cloud of dust. When the smoldering grime clears, nothing is left behind. The spaceships erupt out of the fog of destruction at unbelievable speeds, flying out of sight. The destructive sounds are nonstop. The ground shakes. The air becomes hot and charged. I hear distant screams of people in trouble. The aliens must be destroying everything in their path.

  Michael is right. They are out to kill mankind.

  A pop goes off, and then another. It’s gunfire. A man appears from down the street. He’s the one firing the gun. Other people are running. Some pass him up entirely, going in whatever direction they can. A woman bumps into him. Both of them fall. She’s up and gone, but the man scrambles for the gun. Just as he gra
bs it and gets back on his feet, a small spaceship bears down on him.

  The UFO is about the fourth the size of a Fiat and looks like a pistachio. The gray outer shell is open, showing an oval sphere inside. Its sleek surface is the same as the Octere, except there are no wandering lights. It flips over clockwise and flips back as lightning arcs around the sphere.

  The man stares at the ship. Slowly, he raises his arm and pulls the trigger. The bullet bounces off the hull. From what I can tell, there is no damage. The ship crackles and shivers. The hair on my arm rises. My skin tingles. A lightning burst erupts, creating a crooked red beam. The aim is perfect though, hitting the man directly on the chest. Shockingly, he explodes into a cloud of dust. No skin, no muscle, no bones left behind. His clothes are gone as well. The sidewalk, where he was, sprinkled with his remains. The spaceship takes off for another target.

  “We’re getting the hell out of here!” Michael says.

  Before I can refuse, he’s out, and pulling me up to my feet. We run down Oliver Hill Way, our sights set on the trees ahead.

  Michael veers off the road, heading for a clump of trees.

  Panicked, I ask, “Where are you going?”

  “Over there.”

  “Why?”

  “We’ll use the woods as cover.”

  There is no path. Everything is overgrown. Michael trips over the tangled growth of twigs and vines, landing on his stomach in the bush. I’m right behind him, trying to keep up.

  “Jesus, Kris. Can’t you wait until I stand up? I’m not going to leave you behind.”

  “Sorry. I’m scared.”

  We work through the brush. It doesn’t take us long to reach where the woods end. Train tracks come into view. There’s a locomotive to our right. Engineers are talking in front of it. We cross the tracks. Another batch of trees are ahead, but there’s a path this time. Two yards in, we’re out and see another set of tracks. The next patch of woods takes a little bit longer to get through. When we come out, we’re on the road. The city is to the left, and so is the Octere. A dust cloud blooms under and around it. I swear that thing is following us, or it’s just so big there’s no getting away from it.

  “Do you know where we are?” I ask Michael.

  “Yep, I do.”

  We follow an unnamed road to an intersection where the rail crosses. The street signs says Hospital St. The immediate area is mostly undeveloped land and two-way roads. Up ahead is a tall bridge, more than likely Highway 64. People are on it, walking away from the city.

  “Michael, are you sure we’re going the right way?”

  “Yes and stop asking so many questions. Trust me, okay?”

  “It just seems like we’re walking in circles.”

  “We’re not. We’re good.”

  The moment we clear from under the bridge, I hear rapid gunfire, a lot of it, and people are screaming. It’s coming from atop the bridge. Soldiers fire towards a target I can’t see. Civilians run in the opposite direction. Lightning suddenly cracks, striking in the center of the span. Solid bodies explode into dust. Those that escape only fall to their deaths to the street below. The cars turn to dust also under the continuous barrage of lightning strikes. The bridge eventually becomes the target. Michael and I duck behind a set of trees and continue to watch. When the dust settles and those spaceships are long gone, what’s left behind are crumbled remains, dust, blood, and beams sticking out of the ground.

  I can’t take the sight. It’s too much to bear. Michael and I run from the death behind us.

  The cemetery comes into view. Deciding not to cut through, we stay on Hospital Street, continuing to a neighborhood of duplexes. Everyone must be locked in their homes. It’s eerie to see life hiding from the world on an early weekday morning. I try not to focus on the negative. We’re still alive. That counts for something.

  Quietly, we make our way to Brook Road, and once again, we have a clear sight of the Octere, seemingly drifting higher since the last time I saw it. The smaller spaceships fire on the ground, grinding out devastation with each electrical strike. Smoke, fire, and lightning; it’s a scene that instills fear, something I will never forget.

  C H A P T E R

  4

  We find refuge under a canopy of trees. The only telltale sign of unsettledness are the groups of people walking the street. Dust and blood cover their clothes and exposed skin. They head north, away from Richmond, in the direction we plan on going.

  “Here.” Michael hands me a bottle of water. It’s a small four-ounce nugget. I drink it all in one gulp, realizing afterwards that I’m hungry.

  My mind doesn’t stay focused on the minor starvation though. Images of the last few minutes replay in my mind. Silhouettes of the smaller spaceships flashed when the lightning erupted in the dust cloud. People screamed for help, wanting someone to save them. The spaceships crackled before releasing their electrical strike. The sizzling sounds of flesh and floating powdery-fine dust afterwards. Bodies fell. Clawed at the air as if the very act could save them. And the buildings that once dotted the Richmond skyline, they were gone in one amazing second. The aliens took an eraser and rubbed out the skyscrapers. Accomplishments that took years to build and maintain are gone forever.

  “You okay?” Michael asks.

  “I’m okay,” I sigh sadly. “You know, yesterday at this time, I was taking a phone call from an irate customer. He wanted all of his money back on his credit card, and he wasn’t taking no for an answer. On top of that, he wanted an apology in writing. You think that matters to him now?”

  “No, Sis, I don’t think so.”

  “Just like that, everything has changed. The world is different. I don’t want to die like those people.”

  “I’m going to do everything I can to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

  “There’s nothing you can do. There’s nothing anyone can do.”

  “You have to believe we’re going to make it. You have to stay positive and focused.”

  “This coming from the man who said earlier the aliens were here to wipe out the human race.”

  “I did say that, but I could be wrong. I was just guessing. Either way, we’re not giving up. I’m prepared for this. That’s all we have to do is make it to Marienville.”

  “You think your mom’s house is any safer?”

  “We’re not going to stay at her house.”

  “Then where are we going?”

  “I have to start from the beginning, so you’ll understand.” Michael sits in front of me to ensure he has my full attention. “Okay, so as you already know, I’ve been visiting my mom every weekend, but there’s another reason why I go up there. I’m part of an organization known as the Allegheny Collective. A few of my Army buddies and I decided to pool our resources to build a bunker that will house our families during and after an apocalypse. That’s where we’re going. To a bunker.”

  What in the absolute hell did he say? Of course, I kind of understand, but this news is a total shock. I am happy he’s prepared for an alien invasion that could wipe out the entirety of humankind, but who would think to be ready for such a thing? Who is this man that calls himself my brother?

  “What is it?” Michael asks.

  I shake my head and shrug my shoulders. I don’t know where to begin.

  “Have I lost you?”

  “No,” I answer awkwardly. “So, exactly where is this bunker?”

  “It’s in an underground system of caves in the Allegheny National Forest. We’ve set it up to take care of our families for an indefinite amount of time if needed. It’s going to be a self-sustaining community where we all work together to survive.”

  “Okay,” I reply, not knowing how to react.

  “If you got questions, ask them.”

  “Did you know the aliens were coming?”

  “No.”

  “Then why would you do something like that?”

  “I’ve always believed something was going to happen, something that society wouldn
’t be able to recover from. I had no idea what it would be, but I wanted to be ready, just in case.”

  “Is the Allegheny Collective a cult?”

  “What!”

  “I’m not going to be somebody’s handmaiden or sister wife.”

  “Are you for real?” Michael laughs. “Where do you come up with this stuff?”

  “I’m serious. First, it starts all innocent. Friends are getting along. Everyone is happy, but then when people get too comfortable, that’s when the shit hits the fan. I’m telling you, I’m not going to be part of that nonsense.”

  “I’ve known these people for years. They are standup, straight up, good guys.”

  “Okay, just making sure. I want to make it perfectly clear what I’m not going to put up with.”

  “I promise you, Sis, everything will be good.”

  “What about your mom? Is your mom going to be there?”

  “We have to swing by and get her, but that won’t be a problem since she’s already in Marienville.”

  “Do you think she knows about the invasion?”

  “She might. I’m not sure. I tried calling her this morning. I didn’t get an answer.”

  “You think she’s okay? She’s by herself up there, practically shut off from immediate help.”

  “I bet she’s safer than we are right now. The aliens are attacking only major cities, not that I can confidently make that assumption from seeing the raid in Richmond alone, but I think it’s a safe conclusion to make.”

  “We have to get to her as quickly as possible. Walking is going to take days. We need a car.”

  “True, but I don’t believe we’re going to find a working vehicle anytime soon. The rod you saw on television before it went out was an EMP device.”

  There he goes with those military acronyms. Everything in the government and military must have an alphabet identifier. I guess saying things like Central Intelligence Agency is a mouthful.

  “What is that?” I ask.

  “You never heard of it before? Don’t you watch movies or read?”