2013: The Aftermath

by Shane McKenzie

  2013

  THE AFTERMATH

  Edited by Shane McKenzie

  & Jessy Marie Roberts

  Pill Hill Press

  Chadron, Nebraska

  Table of Contents

  Hometown by Ellie Garratt

  Native Son by C. Douglas Birkhead

  Troglodition by Jacob Edwards

  Living Along the Bottom of the Pond by Dustin M.W. Reade

  Magic Man by Chris Lewis Carter

  Time Minus Forever by Bret Bass

  Prey by David Greske

  Backbone by Shelly Li

  The Warren by Anne Waldron Neumann

  Dakota by Shane Collins

  Final Audit by Sam S. Kepfield

  A Year Later by Jack Horne

  Golden Doors to a Golden Age by A.J. French

  Everybody, Do the Apocalypse by John C. Caruso

  Finding the Sky by Waite Jorin

  Last Girl by C.B. Droege

  Ghosts on the Lines by Diane Arrelle

  Stranger Times by Paul Starkey

  Bringing in the Dead by K.C. Ball

  The Last by Timothy Miller

  Revelations by Tomas Furby

  Genesis Three by Scott Wermuth

  Great Days by Gregory Miller

  Stepping on the Bones Joleen Kuyper

  After the Revelation by Marissa Farrar

  The Meat Wagon Man by Kris Triana

  Hometown

  by Ellie Garratt

  Identity accepted. Thank you. Please step into the pod, and listen carefully to the following informational.

  Welcome to the Hometown facility. This will be your home for the next phase of your life. Please note: phase is defined as an unknown and indeterminable period of Earth time that will be no less than one day and no greater than the natural duration of your life expectancy.

  Hometown is a biometrically controlled, Earth-like replacement habitat, designed to meet your entire needs. Using nanotechnology, a reasonable facsimile of your hometown before planetary realignment—its people, wildlife, manmade and biological structures, and weather systems—has been created. Please note: whilst the biological human facsimiles contained within Hometown will look, feel, and act as those stored in yours, and other natural-born inhabitant memories, their pre-programmed characteristics and behaviors are based solely upon those memories, and as such, are subjective reproductions. We are not responsible for any errors caused by lapses, gaps, or imaginary substitutions in your memory files.

  Although procreation is strongly encouraged, sexual activity of any nature with facsimiles is prohibited. Facsimiles are incapable of human reproduction, and as such, any reproductive activity is wasted energy. To identify a facsimile, please look for a red cross on the top of their left hand. Please note: any breach of these rules will result in immediate ejection from the Hometown facility. Should you find it difficult to control yourself around facsimiles of persons with which you were intimate with prior to planetary realignment, please request their immediate termination via one of the facility’s control pods.

  Though facsimiles of natural-born inhabitants over the age of 45 have been provided, no natural-born inhabitant over this age, or those under the age of 45 and infertile, will be permitted entrance to a Hometown facility. Testing during your screening process has indicated that you are still capable of reproduction.

  Due to various cultural and religious differences, there are numerous Hometowns within this facility. No two Hometowns are the same, and it is expressly forbidden for natural-born inhabitants to leave their own Hometown, enter into, or attempt to communicate with another Hometown. By entering into this Hometown you are indicating acceptance of its rules, cultural and religious practices, and surrendering freedom of geographical movement for this phase of your life.

  To ensure that the historical, cultural, and religious practices of natural-born inhabitants are not exposed to, or influenced by, an alien presence, no direct contact between the facilities keepers and natural-born inhabitants is permitted. Should you wish to bring to our attention any matter pertaining to life within your Hometown, please use a pod auditory communication channel.

  Every endeavour will be made to keep this facility on Earth, your indigenous planet, whilst our teams complete planetary stabilization, and work to restore a safe ecosystem. However, should this endeavour prove too costly, or this facility come under threat from other natural-born inhabitants, or an as yet unknown force, this facility will be relocated to another suitable planetary body of our choosing. Please note: there is no limit to the number of times this facility may be moved during your natural life expectancy, and should ejection from this facility prove impossible due to external environmental factors, termination of a natural-born inhabitant will be considered. A choice of termination methods will be offered.

  Should you expire from natural causes before a safe ecosystem has been established, or found, your remains will be disposed of via your indicated religious and cultural practices. However, for reasons of space and sanitation, this will be done outside of the Hometown facility. Should you expire en route to another planetary body, your remains will be disposed of in space.

  Thank you for listening to this informational, and for choosing this facility. The yellow door to the right of you will open in 30 seconds, and will remain open for 30 minutes. Should you choose not to enter the Hometown facility; survival rations for 30 Earth days will be provided.

  Make the right choice; become part of the 2013 program to repopulate your species.

  About the author:

  Ellie Garratt lives in the UK. She enjoys writing speculative fiction, and has been published in several anthologies, including Static Movement’s Flash!, Pill Hill Press’s Haunted, and Six Sentence’s The Mysterious Dr. Ramsey. She blogs at www.elliegarratt.blogspot.com.

  Native Son

  by C. Douglas Birkhead

  “What day is it?” Sam Breaux wiped the sticky sweat from his forehead with the sleeve of his flight suit. The sun was finally setting but the muggy Louisiana evening still felt oppressive.

  “It’s Friday, Major Breaux.” The female voice of the ship’s computer, orbiting miles above, echoed in his head.

  “Tell you what, Eve, why don’t you start calling me Sam.” The astronaut bent over and put his hands on his knees trying to fight through the misery of the heat. Even though Sam grew up in New Orleans, he had become accustomed to a pleasant climate controlled environment after spending the last six months aboard the Discovery.

  “I’ve always addressed you by your military rank.”

  “I don’t think there’s a military left to care what you call me. It’s a pretty safe bet that I’m a civilian now.”

  Sam stared down Bourbon Street and shook his head. Before he left, he could have never imagined it being deserted on a Friday night. Most weekends, it was packed with boisterous tourists and quirky locals all reveling in the festive ambience of the city’s unique culture. On this day, however, the street was quiet. Every bar, restaurant, and trinket shop was abandoned. He walked to the dusty window of a favorite tavern, known for its authentic jazz music, and peered inside. Wooden chairs were turned upside down and resting on tabletops. On the empty stage sat a quartette of instruments waiting to be played. The bar at the far end of the building was clean, the stools neatly arranged along the front.

  He stepped back onto the dirty street and whispered, “Where the hell did everyone go?”

  “I don’t know, Sam. It’s very strange.”

  “Of all places, I was sure someone would be here.”

  “I’m sorry, Sam, I don’t have an answer for you.”

  As unique as the historic district was, it was the people that made the city special
to him. For as long as he could remember, the French Quarter had been a place for him to go to forget his troubles and lose himself with his friends. As an undergraduate at Tulane, before he met Charlotte, it was the bars and women that motivated him. In later years, before she died, the couple enjoyed strolling down the musty streets watching the tourists and odd locals. Some evenings they would park themselves in one of the many jazz clubs and lose themselves in the music. The French Quarter had always hummed with unique energy that fueled enigmatic locals who were just as much a part of the city’s flavor as the distinctive architecture and culture.

  Sam sighed as he realized that all of it was gone forever. What stood around him was as far removed from what had been as a museum display recreating a scene from some ancient civilization.

  Sam sat down and leaned against a weathered black and white street sign. He had been walking all day and his body ached from the effort. He closed his eyes and reflected on how much his life had changed in three years. Not long after Charlotte was killed in the accident, he accepted the offer to join the Discovery project. With no family, he was an ideal candidate to test the new propulsion system. Sam would pilot a Discovery prototype into space at near relativistic speeds and return six months later. Of course, almost two years would pass back on Earth, but that didn’t matter to Sam. He didn’t really have anything left to come back to except the city that had been such a big part of his life.

  Before he left, Sam took comfort in the fact that things never seemed to change much in New Orleans. He knew that no matter how much the world evolved in his absence, the city would always feel like home.

  Sam felt a wave of grief wash over him as he began to consider what he suspected the moment they entered Earth’s orbit. On their first pass around the dark side of the planet, he saw only darkness. The familiar twinkling of pinpoint lights and bright splotches of luminescence around the cities were missing.

  Sam ordered Eve to make contact with Houston, but after a day of listening to static it had become clear that the worst had probably come to pass. She insisted they return to Houston, but Sam told her the plan was pointless. He explained that the only thing left to do was go home. He manually programmed the reentry vehicle to splashdown in Lake Pontchartrain, just outside of the city. In the back of his mind he had considered that it might not be safe for him to go back, but he knew that putting it off would only hasten his inevitable return. More importantly, he needed more than ever to see New Orleans again.

  “Two years. It doesn’t make sense.”

  “A lot can change in two years. Even though we were only away for six months, the ship’s extreme velocity made time pass slowly relative to Earth. It may feel like 2011 to you, but it’s actually 2013.”

  “Thanks, Eve.” Sam made no attempt to mask the irritation in his voice. “I understand the science, I have a PhD in physics.”

  “I’m sorry, Sam. I don’t know what to tell you. I hope you’re not angry with me.”

  “Forget it. Listen, can we not talk for a while?”

  “Of course, I’ll be here if you need me.”

  “Of course you will.” Sam rubbed his temples with both hands. The cranial implant which linked him to the Discovery’s computer had been an amusing novelty for the first couple of months of the trip, but it soon grew to be an unwanted intrusion into his personal space. Eve saw and heard everything he did, and her friendly voice, projected into his brain, had long since reached the point of being an unbearable annoyance.

  With no specialists alive to remove the chip, Sam grimaced to himself at the thought of having to deal with Eve for the rest of his life. Then again, she was apparently the only one left in the world he could talk to.

  Despite the sharp pain shooting through his knees, Sam pulled himself to his feet. He took a long pull of water from the Camel Back strapped across his shoulders before continuing down Bourbon Street.

  It was the silence that depressed him the most. Sam remembered how the French Quarter used to come alive with an unmistakable sound created by a mixture of modern music, jazz, and zydeco. On the weekends, he would have to push his way through pulsating waves of people spilling out of the ornately decorated bars and restaurants that lined the streets. He smiled to himself as he remembered a jealous argument he once had with Charlotte after she exposed herself to a group of drunken conventioneers perched on the now empty wrought iron balcony he slowly passed.

  As he made his way towards the river, Sam cut across to Jackson Square. He worked his way around to the front of Saint Louis Cathedral and was met with yet another gloomy reminder of what the city had become. He gazed at the image of the massive church casting long shadows across the overgrown park that had been the heart of the French Quarter. Once alive and teaming with shabby musicians, artists, and street performers, the surrounding plaza was empty. In their place were mounds of trash which had collected in smelly piles by the drainage inlets.

  Sam walked to the church and tugged on the heavy, wooden double doors, eventually pulling them open with a noisy creak which echoed across the barren park. He unzipped a cargo pocket on his uniform and pulled out a small flashlight. Sam fumbled with the micro torch, moving forward slowly before managing to turn it on. The smell of the cathedral was not right. The normally musty scent was punctuated by the unmistakable odor of death. He covered his mouth as he swept the flashlight around the massive chamber. The tiny beam did little to light the room, but as it fell across the nearest pew, a decomposing face stared at him. He jumped back, almost falling over before steadying himself on a railing.

  “Eve, can you see this?”

  “Of course, Sam. He appears to be a vagrant.”

  “Yeah.” Sam paused to let his eyes adjust to the darkness before moving further into the church. He blinked several times to bring his surroundings into focus and when he opened his eyes, he stopped shuffling as an icy chill consumed him. The entire cathedral was filled with bodies, each in the advanced stages of decay.

  “Jesus,” Sam said quietly to himself.

  “It looks like they are all homeless.” Eve’s words startled Sam and he flinched when she spoke.

  He shook his head as he realized the scene that had played out months before. “They came here to die, Eve. It was some kind of sickness that killed them. That’s why there’s no one outside. I’ll bet after the hospitals filled up, everyone just went home to wait for the end. Those that didn’t have anywhere to go came to places like this.”

  “Your presumption is plausible. Sam, if that’s the case, perhaps it’s not safe for you here. Maybe you should go back outside until we know more about the nature of the infection.”

  Sam didn’t say anything. He stared at the body of an old black man clutching a weathered saxophone case. He closed his eyes remembering how lively performers would play for the pocket change of the endless groups of visitors to the city. He finally turned around and slowly walked outside. “It doesn’t matter now.”

  “Of course it does. Sam, I understand how this must be a shock to you, but—”

  “Do you? How?” Sam laughed.

  Eve pleaded with uncharacteristic emotion in her voice. “Please, Sam, what about your home?”

  “Eve, this IS my home!”

  “Show me where you lived, Sam.”

  He considered the request and his anger faded as his thoughts turned to his wife. Fifteen years ago, Charlotte had begged him to buy one of the few remaining rundown houses in the Garden District. He knew it cost more than they could afford, and Sam didn’t have clue about fixing it up, but she persisted and he finally relented. The first five years were a nightmare. He cursed every trip to the Home Depot and each failed attempt at a repair, but as he looked back at the experience, he realized the times they spent working together were some of the best of his life. After she died, that house meant more to him than anything else he owned.

  “All right.”

  It was dark, but the full moon was bright enough for him to make his way out
of the French Quarter, across Canal Street, and finally onto Saint Charles Street where he walked along the old trolley line than ran next to Audubon Park. He ran his hand along a motionless black and brown trolley parked in the overgrown median.

  When he passed Tulane, he looked at the chapel where he had married Charlotte. As a Lieutenant, he didn’t have much money and the small wedding was all they could afford. He smiled to himself. It had been a perfect place to start their married lives together.

  Sam finally turned the corner onto his street and sighed when he saw his house. The grass was overgrown and full of weeds, but the old place looked to be more or less in good shape. He stepped onto the pillared porch and noticed that the door was open. He walked through and into the old foyer. Sam noticed the smell of death right away and gagged at the sight of another destitute victim lying on his couch. Without a working air conditioner, the house was stifling and the body had decomposed into a pulpy mess in the humidity.

  “He must have seen that no one was home and came in to get off the streets,” Sam said.