Michael tells us to stay where we are. He slips past us, heading to a door. It’s cracked open, but it won’t budge when he pushes it. I run over to him. Michael is surprised to see me. We use our combined strength to push at the same time. It gives, screeching against the cement floor. It’s so loud. I know someone other than us had to of heard it. Michael and I run back over to Erika, who’s terrified and guarding the bicycles. I grab mine. Erika is already on the way with hers and gets through the entrance first. I go through next. Michael is last. We’re in the back of a flower shop. Long stem roses are on a long shiny counter. Baskets and small wooden boxes are stacked on shelves. With the perfume and natural scent of the flowers, it smells like heaven, love, and happiness. It brings tears to my eyes.
“KRIS!” Michael is at the front of the store.
I hadn’t realized I stopped moving. I push my bike, trying not to knock over anything that will cause a racket. Michael looks out the window. He checks up and down the sidewalk before going out the door first. Erika follows him, nearly running her bike into his. Too focused on our surroundings, Michael doesn’t even notice. He takes the lead. We stay close. The moment we’re out of the town square, we get on our bicycles. I’m too scared to look back, too worried the Tracker Bot is on our tail.
Much to my amazement, we make it out of town. The natural landscape is a welcome view. My anxiety disappears.
“We made it,” Erika says with exhilaration. “We didn’t get caught.”
“Don’t celebrate yet,” Michael yells over his shoulder.
The road seems to be clear, but the skies are not. Rods are on their way to the famous town. Their payload will devour everything. Thank goodness we made it out of there.
C H A P T E R
55
Brookville, Pennsylvania
Our next break is under the Interstate 80 bridge. After Michael announced that we would make it to Marienville by nightfall, Erika suggested we rest up before making the last stretch. We have some time before the sun sets. Rejuvenate now. Sprint to the finish line. Rest afterward. It’ll be worth it.
It’s hard to stand still when we are so close, but we do. We drink water. We eat. Take a bathroom break. Stretch out the muscles. Mentally prepare. When the time comes, we look at each other. Miles and days behind us. A future ahead. We are almost to the finish line.
“This is it,” Michael says. “Next time we stop we’ll be home.”
C H A P T E R
56
Marienville, Pennsylvania
The last stretch is the longest. It sure seems like the road is growing, not wanting us to reach its end. But the land is familiar. The houses are old. The local businesses have beaten time. Time stood still in this lucky part of the world.
We cycle by a house with the same blue Chevrolet truck. It’s not even blue anymore. The front door to the home is off the hinges. An old lady and a lazy hound dog lived there once. I liked the dog, not his human so much.
A house where one of Michael’s friends used to live still holds up to time. His friend still might be there. Toys are in the yard. A ramp goes up to the porch. The large lawn is dirt and rocks.
We see a cross on the side of the road. I’m surprised it’s still there. Michael stops to read the name etched in the wood. Erika and I wheel by him. Eventually, my brother catches up with us. Michael probably heard of the boy who died in a drunk driving accident in that marked spot. The whole community was in shock. The kid’s dad was a hard drinker and a fast driver. Was on his way home from picking the kid up from his grandmother’s house after juicing up at the bar. Those were sad times.
We cross Clarion River. It brings back memories. Jumping in that water during the summer was so much fun. Picnics during the Fourth of July. Easter egg hunts during the spring after church. Late night drink parties were memorable. During the winter, it would slow and have chunks of ice and snow in it. I miss that, smiling and having fun without a care in the world.
I see the dealership where Michael bought his first car. The thing was raggedy and wasn’t worth half of what he paid. But boys and their rides. Michael was proud of that thing. I forgot what his first car was. I wouldn’t ride in it. It was rusty and stinky. It rattled and backfired. I was sure the thing would explode, take out everybody in the state of Pennsylvania. The day before Michael went to basic training, he tried to sell it to me. I offered two pennies. Insulted, he vowed I wouldn’t be in his will. He sold it back to the dealership for half of what he bought it for, and off he went to save the world.
The closer we get, the faster we peddle. Determination set in, Michael is more than half a mile ahead. He’s not worried about losing Erika or me. I know my way now.
Marienville comes into focus, but we’re out of the little town in record time. Nothing has changed, and I’m okay with that. I’m happy to see the same old buildings. The aliens haven’t come this far yet.
Two more roads. We are almost there. I can’t believe we’ve made it this far, and it took us so long. I don’t know what day it is.
One more road. We round the corner, taking it without looking to make sure the way is clear. Only people who live out here travel this road. One or two people at the most. They’re probably dug into their homes, only coming out when they have to.
And here we are, the last road. Only a short distance, and there’s the mailbox. WISE in all capital letters. The driveway is a dirt road. Grass grows right up to its edges. It snakes through the rich forest.
When the trees give way, I see the white two-story house with the wraparound porch. Michael is already inside. His bicycle laying at the foot of the steps. I get off my bicycle, take off my backpack, and drop it to the ground.
“This is where you grew up?” Erika asks, dazed and possibly in awe.
“This is home.”
C H A P T E R
57
Pot roast, peas, and potatoes are piled on our plates, and our meal is on the table in front of us. Erika is about to dig in, but I shake my head. She’s confused, famished, but she backs off from the plate. Rochelle spreads out her hands, signifying it’s time for prayer. I sit across from her at the round table that’s been a staple in the house since I was a kid. Michael and Erika sit on either side of me. Everyone holds hands. We lower our heads. Rochelle speaks the words, the same prayer she’d uttered every time we sat at this very table for a meal.
I remember the day she told me she wasn’t my mother. It was the day of awakening, a kick in the gut. I’d always thought something was off between her and me. No matter how hard she tried to love me, I always felt something was missing. Then one rainy day, Rochelle sat me down, showed me pictures of my mother. She told me how she died, and how I came to live in this house. I stopped calling her mom that day. She noticed it immediately, but she never pushed for me to call her mom after the truth was out. She was understanding yet heartbroken. I was a lost little kid, feeling as if this home was no longer my home. But I was aware of her pain at the tender age of nine, that twisting knife in her heart and how much it must have taken to be the mother of a child that wasn’t her own, the child of her husband’s mistress. I am immensely grateful for her kindness, but I would have loved to be a child to my mother too.
“Amen,” all around.
“This looks great,” Erika replies.
“Thank you.” Rochelle stares at her. She already holds an opinion of Erika. I can tell by the way she stares at her and Michael that she’s gauging to see if there’s a relationship there.
“And your house is lovely, Ms. Wise.”
Rochelle smiles. “It’s old, dear, and in dire need of repair.”
“Stop worrying about the house, Mom.”
“It’s been in our family for years. I don’t want to leave.”
“When are we going to the bunker?” Erika asks.
“I have to check it out first. Make sure the area is clear. No later than tomorrow morning we should be there.” Michael won’t look in my direction. I have no id
ea what he has planned or how he’s going to get her in the bunker.
“Tomorrow morning,” she says giddily. “I can’t wait.”
“What will it be like? Living in the bunker?” Rochelle asks curiously.
“Everything is state of the art and self-sustaining. The caves have been modified to ensure our survival for many years.”
“That tells me absolutely nothing,” his mother responds with a smirk.
“You’ll be comfortable. It won’t be like this old place.” Michael gestures to the dining room. It has wallpaper from the seventies, peeling at the edges. An oil painting of daisies cracked and caked full of dust hangs in the same spot since I was a kid.
“It’s not so bad,” Rochelle replies. “I gave you two a wonderful life here.”
“Yes, Mom, you did.”
“What happens if there’s something wrong in the bunker?” Rochelle asks. “I know you’ve been working on that thing for years, and it’s important to you.”
“We’ll have to stay here, do the best we can for as long as we can. You don’t have to worry about anything, Mom. I’ll take care of us.”
“I know you will, Michael. You’ve always come through.”
We finish our meal. Erika and I do the dishes. Rochelle sits on the front porch as she’s always done after eating dinner. Nothing has changed about her, a creature of habit, even during the end of the world. Michael has gone upstairs to get some rest. I told him I’ll get him up later, but I may let him sleep. His smart thinking and courage got us here safe and sound.
When the kitchen is cleaned, Erika retires to the guest bedroom. I join Rochelle on the porch. I’ve made myself a cup of coffee since I’ll be staying up late. I’ve brought Rochelle a glass of wine. I remember her having a drink every night, never getting too tipsy but enough to take the harsh edges off a long day.
“You remembered,” she says, taking the glass. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I’m glad you two made it home. I knew you would.”
“Richmond is a long way.”
“Michael’s determination is unmatched, as well as yours.”
“Have you heard from Dad?” I’ve wanted to ask that question since our arrival, but I haven’t had the courage. Speaking of him can lead to an argument or tears.
“No.” She sips her drink. The man is a sore spot to this day.
“Do you think he’s dead?”
“Honestly, Kris, he’s been dead to me for years, and you know that.”
Feeling the weight of our lives, I reply, “I’m sorry.”
“For what exactly?”
“For reminding you of your pain.”
“Don’t ever apologize for your father again.” Rochelle places the glass on the small table on the other side of her chair and turns to me. “The pain he put me through is on him. Not you. He was the problem and the cause. You did nothing wrong. You were a joy from the first day I held you in my arms, and you are still that same bright light.”
She pulls at my heart. It’s almost like I don’t deserve her, and perhaps I don’t. I hold her hand, and I tell her that I love her through my tears. She kisses my hand, a characteristic of her enduring big heart.
We sit on the porch, in the quiet darkness with only a lamp between us. I missed this. I missed her.
DAY EIGHT
C H A P T E R
58
Michael has gone to the caves. Erika is biting her nails and pacing on the front porch. She didn’t wake up before he left, and I’m glad she didn’t. Erika would have wanted to go with him. She wouldn’t let up for a second.
“How long has he been gone?” she asks for the fifth time.
I’m tired of her asking, tired of the pacing.
“Will he go into the bunker without us and not come back?”
It’s a question I won’t entertain.
“I didn’t come all this way to be shut out.”
“Erika, calm down. Michael is making sure everything is good, and it’ll take time. It’s not like the caves are around the corner.”
“Okay. Sorry.”
Whether she truly realizes it or not, she has a right to be nervous. I don’t have the heart to tell her the truth. If it comes down that she can’t get into the bunker, it’ll break her heart or enrage her. I hope it doesn’t come to that conclusion.
“Kris, can I talk to you for a sec?”
“You don’t have to ask, Erika.”
“I know, but I wanted to thank you. I’ve done it before, but we’ve made it through some tough situations. I know I was rude, and I lied. But you saved my butt more than once. I wouldn’t have gotten out of that house without your help, and I wouldn’t be here. I do appreciate what you and Michael have done. I want you to know that.”
“You’re welcome, Erika.”
“You’re my best friend. The only one I have right now.”
“I’m not good at being a friend.”
“Yes, you are. The whole time. That’s exactly what you were.”
I have to admit, as much as she appreciates what I’ve done, I am grateful for her. She pulled me from the abyss of my emotions after I heard the truth about Gabe and what he did to his father. She knew I blamed myself, and she helped me from drowning. I could have easily given up, but her kindness saved me. Before I can tell her, she points out toward the yard.
“Kris, I think we have a problem.”
“What?”
Erika goes to the edge of the porch. I stand next to her and see the problem. A Swarm is coming from the woods. I run back into the house, calling Rochelle. She doesn’t answer after I repeatedly say her name.
“MOM!” I scream, knowing she’ll answer to that.
“Yes, Kris, I’m out back!”
She’s at the perfect location. I run upstairs, grab my backpack and Michael’s alien gun. I head back down the steps, looking out the screen window. Erika is no longer on the porch, and the Swarm is halfway across the yard. I run to the kitchen and the back entrance. I’m relieved to find Erika is already out there with Mom. I tell them both to get moving. Erika doesn’t have to be told twice, but Mom is hesitant. She wants an explanation.
“They’re here.”
“Who?”
“The aliens. We have to go.”
She needs no other clarification. I can’t run as fast with her, but we’re gaining distance between us and the house. Erika makes it to the woods first and stops inside the tree line. Just as we get there, I hear wood snapping from the home. Glass ruptures and sprays outward. The Swarm pours in, relentlessly consuming. The roof buckles in the center. Smoke billows out. A fire plume erupts. None of it slows down the Swarm. When they’re done, the house is leveled. And to my surprise, they’ve eaten the fuel tank in the side yard. There’s nothing else to consume. Thinking the Swarm may come for us, I back into the woods, telling Mom and Erika to hide behind a tree. I do the same, watching the Swarm the whole time.
When the dust settles, the Swarm hasn’t moved. The mass of creatures looks like tar, and I swear I see a bubble form and pop. I’m amazed and perplexed by this new development. Did the Swarm melt?
I have this need to investigate. I must know what I’m looking at.
“Stay here,” I tell them both.
Heads nod quickly as a reply.
Slowly coming out from behind the tree, I look up and around to make sure there isn’t a Rod nearby or a Tracker Bot. I’m not too worried about Seeds showing up, but I won’t put it past the aliens to send those also.
Knowing I’m about to do the most insane thing in the world, I slowly begin the trek back to where the house used to stand. I have to see what the Swarm really look like. I take one careful step after another. My heartbeat pound in my ears.
When I’m an arm’s reach away, I take in the amazing view. The Swarm is a black mass, looking very much like tar. But something stands out not too far from where I am. It’s a bug or a termite. The thing is metallic, positively alien
. It has a long dark body with wings that’s a third the length of its body. The Termite is dying, turning into a black liquified drop of black tar.
Once a two-story wooden house, built from human hands, destroyed by alien technology, is now nothing. I don’t even know where the back door was. With nothing to salvage, I back away from the melted Swarm and run back to the forest line.
Mom cries. I hug her and tell her it’s going to be okay. It’s all I can do to console her.
C H A P T E R
59
I lead Mom and Erika through the forest, making sure to keep to a well-traveled path. I’m confident I know how to get to the caves, but there’s a lot of new growth. We get to a part of the path that drops down sharply. I’m definitely going in the right direction. Erika and I go first, and then we help Mom. As soon as we turn around to continue, I see Michael coming up the path with two men. Erika calls his name. He’s surprised to see us.
“Why didn’t you wait?” Michael asks me. “I told you I’d be back.”
“The house is gone,” I answer. “The Swarm destroyed it.”
“Are you guys okay?” he asks.
“We’re fine,” Mom replies. “Kris got us away in time.”
Dust to Dust: An Apocalyptic Thriller Page 21