After the Fall- The Complete series Box Set

by Charlie Dalton

  He fell into the armchair. His muscles ached and his emotions were shattered. He sank into the upholstery and let his body recover. He wouldn’t sleep—he doubted he could—but he could rest.

  The pounding thudded against the door like an irregular heartbeat. It was random, fleeting, like rain against a windowpane. Sleep came to claim him, but Graham sensed darkness, a nightmare, not the comfort of hope.

  2.

  GRAHAM’S EYES burst open. He jumped to his feet. He flinched from his cuts and scrapes. He’d fallen asleep.

  Idiot!

  He hadn’t even checked the apartment yet. He shook his head, and then felt relieved that nothing had happened to him. A mistake like that could cost him his life. He turned to face his new home.

  The penthouse was a moderate size. Turquoise colored walls with ivory trim. It would have been a beautiful sight if not for the torn wallpaper and shredded paintings. Worrying red stains adorned the walls like modern art.

  If any of those things were in the apartment they would surely have come for him by now.

  But better safe than sorry.

  Graham took off his backpack and reached inside. He pulled out a Beretta M9, thumb quaking as he flicked back the safety. It felt alien in his hand. He wished he’d practiced more with it. He couldn’t deny the assurance it provided.

  He followed the dark wood flooring toward a long corridor. Portraits lined the walls. Smiling faces of peaceful times. Graham averted his eyes, as if it was somehow perverse to look upon a happy family, a family that he’d help destroy, and millions more like them, around the world.

  He held his gun high and flicked on the light switch, bathing the hallway with a warm glow. There had to be a dozen doors. Some of them were closed. He’d do a thorough search in daylight, he decided. For now, he would just shut the doors.

  He reached for the first door. He caught sight of a stuffed bunny lying in the moonlight, its head torn off, its stuffing strewn across the floor. He decided it was best not to peer inside the other rooms.

  Graham entered a spacious kitchen. Upon seeing the impressive double refrigerators, his stomach leaped. He found half a dozen bottles of water, vegetables, a couple of bottles of wine, mayonnaise, an entire jar of pickles, and several sticks of string cheese. The pantry gave him more hope. An entire box of unopened saltine crackers, three cans of peas and corn, two tins of tuna, and a sack of potatoes.

  Graham came back to the main living area. The thuds on the front door were weaker, but still there.

  He opened a tin of tuna using the pull ring, fished a fork out of a drawer, and ate without chewing. He choked, but he didn’t care. He left the can on the kitchen table. He wasn’t full, but his hunger was somewhat sated. He looked at his hands. They were covered with grime and blood—not, thankfully, his own.

  Waning moonlight filtered through the vast bathroom window. Looking into the mirror, Graham didn’t recognize himself. He had wide sunken eyes and black hair strewn carelessly, like he’d just come in out of a strong wind. The blood at his temple was now dry.

  He heard a scream, behind his eyelids, so sharp and filled with pain that it made him flinch. He washed his hands and face, leaving blackened marks on the sink. He rubbed his hand over them to wipe them away. If only memories could be erased so easily.

  Perhaps he couldn’t erase his memories, but he could record them. Perhaps by transferring them onto a page he could trap them there for others to benefit from. He felt an itch, a need to document what he knew, such as it was.

  Graham took a candle from a drawer in the kitchen and lit it. He dribbled a little of the wax on the coffee table and planted the wick into it. He took a new journal out of his backpack. He flicked to the first page.

  He bent over the page to begin writing, but hesitated. He’d written countless articles and essays before and never suffered from what people referred to as ‘writer’s block’. He didn’t believe it existed. But he sensed this journal was going to mean something one day, something important.

  With slow deliberate care, he began to write.

  My name is Dr. Graham Beck.

  If you are reading this, I am most likely dead, or as close to it as makes no difference. Contained herein are the results of various tests I ran while operating as the Science Liaison to the President of the United States. Perhaps you’re one of the last few survivors and want to know how things got started, how we took the road that led us to this situation.

  While this journal might not provide the answers you were hoping for, it might at least provide some understanding of why we did what we did. We were not monsters, only flawed human beings. We wanted to claim the stars, instead we fell from a great height. I do not think it unfair to say curiosity killed our species.

  It all began with the meteorites. They fell. They fell from a clear blue sky. . .

  3.

  THREE MONTHS EARLIER

  “FOR HEAVEN’S sake, Manny, could you please turn that piss-poor excuse for music down?”

  “Wally, the day I turn this down, is the day my body is returned to the good earth from whence it came,” Manny said.

  A vein throbbed at Commander Wallace Davison’s temple, beating in rhythm to the twanging reverberations in his helmet. He considered returning within the confines of the International Space Station and clobbering Manny with the wrench he held in his gloved hand. He’d better ask first.

  “Houston, permission to beat the hell out of Manny?” Wallace said.

  A pause, as if they were seriously considering it.

  “Are you sure retribution is worth the cost of damaging the wrench?” Flight Director Angela Dobbs said. “It’s worth half your mortgage.”

  “I suppose not,” Wallace grunted, wriggling the wrench against one of the bolts on the solar panel.

  “Nice to know you’ve got my best interests at heart,” Manny said.

  The music turned off. Heaving a contented sigh, Wallace grinned. He tugged on his tether to get a better angle on the bolt.

  “How’s that, Commander?” Director Dobbs said. “Better?”

  “Houston, you are a lifesaver,” Wallace chuckled.

  “Commander Wallace always gets his own way,” Manny said petulantly.

  “Every parent has their favorite,” Director Dobbs said. “Status on the panels?”

  “Almost good as new,” Wallace said, tugging the bolt tighter. “There. Just about done. Shit!”

  The curse slipped out as swiftly as the wrench from Wallace’s grip. It spun into space.

  “You cursed!” Manny said. “I’m telling Mom.”

  “Commander, status report?” Director Dobbs said.

  Wallace reached for the spinning wrench. His gloved hand missed it by centimeters.

  “Commander?” Director Dobbs said.

  “I’m fine,” Wallace said. “But my mortgage is just out of reach.”

  “I know how you feel,” Director Dobbs said.

  “I’d rather not be held responsible for a potential lawsuit,” Wallace said.

  “It would never survive re-entry,” Manny said. “And the chances of it hitting someone if it did. . .”

  “About the same as me becoming an astronaut,” Wallace said. “And yet here I am.”

  Wallace coiled his legs up underneath him and pushed away from the station. A gleam of sunlight bounced off the curved edge of the spinning metal tool. Wallace, weightless, floated toward it. Catching it was going to be tricky.

  He reached out, focusing. He pinched his fingers together like a claw and curled them around the wrench. He jerked as the tether came to its full length.

  He pressed a button on his suit. The tether began to retract, pulling him back toward the station.

  “Mission complete?” Director Dobbs said.

  “Nothing to it,” Wallace said. “Just saved the world.”

  “From a spanner,” Manny said, voice flat. “Someone get him a purple heart.”

  The distant sun broke across the Earth’s sh
immering face, bringing warmth and light to some continents, stealing it from others. Nature was a balancing act. But even the darkness has light, and they trailed the sweeping black blanket as it was drawn across the Earth. A small ball of life in a harsh and bleak universe. So fragile.

  “You done ogling, Commander Bard?” Manny said.

  “As if I could come up with words that could do the sight justice,” Wallace said with a sigh.

  He paused, and then frowned.

  “Houston, are we due for a meteor shower?” he asked.

  “That’s a positive,” Director Dobbs said. “The Perseid shower. If you’d read the memo, you’d have known.”

  “You guys should look up,” Wallace said. “Looks like it’ll be one hell of a show.”

  “Are we done here?” Manny said.

  “Affirmative,” Director Dobbs said.

  Manny’s twanging country and western music grew in volume again.

  “With the whole beauty of the world to look at, you listen to that,” Wallace said, shaking his head.

  “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder,” Manny said.

  “Then the beholder must be blind,” Wallace said.

  The phosphorescent meteors glowed vivid green as they entered the Earth’s atmosphere. It was the greatest show on Earth, presented by the universe. Unbeknownst to anyone at that time, it was to be its last.

  4.

  CALIFORNIA, U.S.A.

  “HEADS UP!”

  The shout didn’t come soon enough for Lewis Roswell to react. The volleyball collided with the eight-year-old’s face, squashing his nose. Lewis clutched his face and let out a high-pitched groan.

  “Lewis?” his mother said. “Lewis?”

  Alice ran to him, her footsteps heavy on the hard grass earth.

  “What happened?” Alice said. “Lewis, are you all right? Baby, let me see. Let Mommy see your face.”

  Lewis took his hand away, slowly, as if he could contain the pain if he didn’t show it.

  “Are you all right, champ?” Jeff said, kneeling beside him. “You took quite a smack. I could hear it from across the field!”

  “Don’t make light of it,” Alice said. “It could be serious.”

  “It’s just an accident,” Jeff said. “You feel all right, don’t you Lew?”

  Lewis nodded, not wanting to appear less of a man before his father. Really, it stung like hell. But seeing Jeff’s proud expression was better than any medicine. Lewis hadn’t cried, no sobs or show of weakness. He was getting better at controlling his emotions.

  Jeff gently probed Lewis’s nose and cheek.

  “Does that hurt?” he said.

  Lewis shook his head.

  “You see?” Jeff said. “No harm done.”

  Lewis wriggled his nose. It felt itchy and sore, but he could breathe through it fine. Jeff placed a palm against Lewis’s back and ushered him toward the picnic tables.

  “Sorry, Lew,” Tori, Lewis’s older brother, said as she came jogging over. “We were playing volleyball and we lost control of the ball.”

  “That’s okay,” Lewis said.

  He couldn’t help but notice the poorly hidden grins on Tori’s friends’ faces. Pain was an acceptable form of entertainment to teenage kids.

  “You can come play with us, if you want,” Tori said with a smile.

  And get smacked in the face again for my trouble? Lewis thought.

  “No thanks,” he said.

  “But you’re all right?” Tori said.

  “I’m fine,” Lewis said.

  Tori turned back to his friends at the net.

  “He’s fine,” he said.

  As if his friends cared.

  “You want a cheeseburger?” Alice said to Lewis.

  “Yeah,” Lewis said.

  Alice pressed a kiss to his forehead, gave him an affectionate touch to his cheek, and moved for the BBQ a dozen yards away.

  Jeff fell back into his deckchair, put his hat back on, and reached for an open can of beer he carefully deposited before his rush to Lewis’s side. He lay with his top off, catching a few rays.

  Lewis’s eyes came to the banner tied to the tree above them, the late spring wind making the fabric furl and whisper. The reason for the family trip to the beach:

  GOOD LUCK, DAD!

  “Jeff?” Lewis said.

  “Yeah?” Jeff said, otherwise not moving a muscle.

  Lewis felt nervous. He wasn’t meant to bring up the subject. It made his mother sad, but she was far enough away that she couldn’t hear him.

  “Do you have to go?” Lewis said.

  “Go where, champ?” Jeff said.

  “To another country,” Lewis said.

  There was a pause before Jeff turned to look at Lewis.

  “We talked about this,” he said.

  “I know. . .” Lewis said.

  Tori wasn’t a bad brother, but he didn’t want to play with Lewis anymore. He preferred to hang out with his friends. Lewis’s mother was always busy with work, and that left Lewis alone. He had most contact with his father, who sometimes came home early, and played with him. Lewis was going to miss him.

  “I have to go,” Jeff said. “It’s for a special reason.”

  “Mom says you’re going to fight,” Lewis said. “Will you get hurt?”

  Jeff looked across at Alice, who was waiting for their burgers to cook.

  “Your mom’s a worrier,” Jeff said. “The Koreans haven’t fought for sixty years. I’ll be safe.”

  “Can’t we come with you?” Lewis said.

  Jeff smiled. It was tinged with sadness.

  “I’d love you to come with me,” Jeff said. “But your mother and I decided it was best for you and your brother to go to school here. I’ll be back before you know it. You’ll see.”

  Jeff waved a hand at the scene before them.

  “It’s moments like this that make me want to go,” he said. “I want to keep us safe, so we can have lots more times like this. I’ll be back in no time, you’ll see.”

  Alice came over with a pair of paper plates.

  “There’s a bit of a queue,” she said. “Taking a while for the guy to cook everything.”

  “If I were cooking—” Jeff said.

  “If you were cooking, it’d be undercooked,” Alice said.

  “But at least we’d be eating by now,” Jeff said with a smile.

  “And sick within an hour,” Alice said.

  “Mom! Dad! Come look at this!” Tori said.

  The volleyball game had stopped. The two teams held their hands over their eyes and were looking up at something in the sky.

  “What in the world. . . ?” Jeff said.

  The entire park had come to a stop, everyone craning their necks up to watch the white ribbons streaked with green blaze across the sky, stretching longer with every passing second.

  “What is that?” Alice said out loud.

  “Aliens!” Tori said. “It’s gotta be aliens!”

  His friends shared the call, hooting and growing excited.

  A thin whistle, so soft it was difficult to hear, grew in volume. It was difficult to gauge how far away the object was, but it appeared to be growing, getting closer. Lewis’s eyes went wide. It was heading toward them.

  The rock was descending much too fast for them to avoid. It was going to strike the Earth. It disappeared behind a clutch of trees. There was a pause that seemed to stretch, too long, and then, a deep boom. The earth shook, vibrating up their legs.

  Awed expressions. Tori and his friends were first to turn and run in the meteorite’s direction.

  “Tori!” Alice shouted. “Come here! Tori!”

  But he was swept up in the excitement with his friends.

  “God damn it!” Alice said, a rare curse. “Jeff, you stay here and watch Lewis.”

  “No way,” Jeff said. “I’m checking it out.”

  “You can’t be serious,” Alice said.

  Jeff took Lewis’s hand and led
him toward the mass of people rushing toward the horizon. Everyone wanted to see what was going on.

  “You’re worse than the kids,” Alice said, shaking her head.

  “And proud of it,” Jeff said. “There might even be camera news crews!”

  THIN TENDRILS of smoke seeped from a dozen craters in the parking lot. Fragments of a disintegrated car lay like tossed children’s toys. Car alarms wailed like upset infants, lights flashing.

  Parents pulled their children away, arching their necks to peer closer. Tori and his friends hadn’t been content with the smaller craters, only the large center piece.

  People milled about the edge of the crater, the atmosphere a heady mix of excitement and tension. A big rock jutted from the largest crater like the head of a jagged hammer. Its surface glowed green, shimmering with energy.

  Alice found Tori and his friends at the lip of the crater, daring one another to go touch the rock, but none of them had the guts. Alice dragged Tori away.

  “Let’s get back to the park,” Alice said.

  “But I want to touch it!” Tori said.

  “You’re not going to touch it,” Alice said.

  “Yeah,” Jeff said. “You don’t know where it’s been.”

  The glowing rock had an aura about it, sucking in the attention of the families standing around it. It must have been what it was like when man first made fire. A marvel.

  “What do you think it is?” Lewis said.

  “A meteorite,” Jeff said. “Thousands of them fall to the Earth every year. Some of them have rare metals inside. Maybe even life.”

  “Cool!” Tori said. “Please can I go touch it?”

  “No way, mister,” Alice said. “Grab your friends. We’ve got burgers to eat.”

  Tori stomped toward his friends, disliking taking on the role of party pooper.

  The rock both scared and fascinated Lewis. It had come from across the galaxy, from across the universe for all he knew. It could have traveled for ions, beyond what the human mind was capable of perceiving, and yet here it was, glowing and green.