Salt of Gomorrah (Silvers Invasion Book 1)

by Alex Mersey

  How much time does that give us?

  Not nearly enough.

  He cleared his throat, which ended in a raucous cough.

  “Here.” The woman had the backpack on the ground, unzipped. She pulled a t-shirt out and tossed it at him. She’d already tugged Johnnie’s shirt down and made each of them a makeshift mask from the spare clothes she’d packed.

  Sean covered his face, refrained from commenting that she might have mentioned the extra clothes when he’d stripped the shirt from his back to bind her son’s ankle. His eyeballs felt scratchy and his eyes still watered sporadically, blurring his vision. It didn’t help when he wondered about the alien weapons and toxic byproducts tainting the air. Radiation? Something worse?

  He shut those thoughts down quickly.

  They were alive until they were dead.

  That was that.

  “I have an idea.” He knelt with his back to the kid. “Hop on.”

  Scrawny arms and spindly legs wrapped his throat and waist. When Sean stood, the kid weighed almost nothing on his back.

  He started jogging down the grassy walkway while the woman was still strapping on her pack.

  “Are you crazy?” she shouted after him.

  Probably. He was running straight into the hot zone.

  Sean kept going, hooking his arms beneath the kid’s legs to reduce the bounce. “They’re not going to blast a place they’ve already razed to the ground.”

  “You sure about that?” she heaved, out of breath from the sprint to catch up.

  She was kidding, right? They were aliens. Who the hell knew what kind of screwed-up logic floated their bubble-heads.

  The brownstone at the curve of the U hadn’t been obliterated into a flurry cloud. It must have come down in the aftershocks—that white-blue web of energy that cracked out from the strike point.

  Sean slowed the pace so they could pick a path around the mountain of rubble. There were places they still had to scrabble over, boulders with jagged concrete edges, steel beams with protruding death traps.

  “Look out for live wires,” Sean clipped out. “Pipes. Hissing steam. That kind of thing.”

  “This is suicide,” she muttered from behind.

  “If you have a better idea, I’m all ears.”

  She didn’t.

  They navigated their way around and over the obstruction in mutually agreed silence. When they eventually came out over the top of a rubble pile, the brutal landscape momentarily paralyzed Sean. It resembled the terrain of an uninhabitable remote planet. Dunes of grayish salt dotted land that had been scraped to the bone. A pitiful number of buildings had been left to tumble gracelessly to their defeat in the aftershocks, the rest had been targeted with those direct hits that vaporized steel, concrete and glass into mounds of off-color dust.

  To his left, it looked like a whirlwind had tunneled along FDR Drive, lifting cars and tossing them every which way, many flung clear into the East River where he could see them bobbing in the current.

  “Mommy, look!” the kid screamed.

  Sean glanced around, then followed the woman’s gaze to the skies. The airship was working its way east from the Hudson. There was another over Jersey, and another on the Brooklyn side where the mothership still hung, all shooting beams of white-blue in rapid succession, a firestorm of lightning strikes erasing mankind’s footprint with absolute efficiency.

  Sean got himself moving again. “Come on.”

  It was easier to run now, his shoes pounding the powdery ground as they weaved their way around dunes and avoided the bulkier husks, running deeper and deeper into the ashes of Lower Manhattan.

  - 3 -

  Beth

  The woman wearing the Louis Vuitton animal print scarf was at it again, complaining loudly and tugging the emergency brake cord.

  Squashed into the bucket seat beside Beth, Allira sighed dramatically. “She does realize we’re already stopped, right? That’s kind of been the problem for the last half hour.”

  “Maybe it signals an alarm,” Beth suggested.

  “That would be why no one’s come running the last hundred times she did it.”

  Beth couldn’t really blame the woman’s impatience. They’d been stuck here for ages. The train had barely pulled out of 5th Avenue subway station when it had squealed to an abrupt stop. The voice patched through the speaker had instructed them to remain calm, be patient, this was not an emergency.

  Well, half an hour later, it was starting to feel like an emergency.

  The conductor had come through twice, reassuring them that everything was fine, they should be on their way shortly. If he knew what in blazes was going on, he wasn’t telling.

  Allira’s head flopped onto Beth’s shoulder. “Wake me up when it’s all over.”

  Beth rolled her eyes. “You are such a sloth.”

  “You’re just jealous because you can’t sleep unless you’re tucked into a cozy bed with your two regulation pillows and the night lamp dimmed.”

  The part about the pillows and the night lamp was rubbish. The rest was all true, including the envy. Beth was a student at the London College of Fashion with a mind to running some glossy fashion magazine one day. Power naps seemed like the sort of thing an editor-in-chief should excel at.

  The red-haired guy in the aisle shuffled two feet closer with obvious intent. He hadn’t exactly been discreet about eyeing her and it seemed like he’d finally plucked up the nerve to approach.

  She really wished he hadn’t.

  “Hey.” He gave her a goofy grin.

  Beth mumbled an unintelligible greeting and glanced out the window.

  There wasn’t much to see, the concave shadow of the tunnel’s curve and a soft glow that could well be some reflection coming from the train cars.

  “So,” the guy continued, undeterred by her disinterest, “have you been here long?”

  “Same as you.”

  “No, I mean the accents,” he explained. “I overheard you and your friend talking.” His grin went half-cocked. “Squabbling like sisters, actually. Is that a British thing?”

  “Actually,” she snipped, “it’s a sister thing.”

  He took a moment to absorb the startling contrast. Beth was as pale as you could get, blonde hair, blue eyes, skin that refused to tan. Allira was from Indian descent with sleek black hair, almond eyes and a flawless dark complexion.

  The guy laughed. “Ah, that’s a joke, right?”

  In no mood to discuss her family tree, Beth made a point of closing her eyes before she rolled her head toward the window again.

  She wasn’t usually this rude, but it had been one brute of a day.

  They were supposed to be on plane home right now. The lady at the customer desk hadn’t even given them a coherent explanation for why their flight was delayed, and then cancelled. Beth and Allira had spent three hours watching the board light up with cancellations before they’d decided to return to their hotel in Manhattan and try again tomorrow. An extra day in New York wouldn’t have been a total disaster, except they’d already checked their luggage and didn’t have so much as a toothbrush to share between them.

  And now this.

  Maybe there really was some type of emergency situation, freak weather or something. They’d tried to find details online and from fellow disgruntled commuters at JFK, but everything was heated opinions and rumors and the usual blow up on social media. It wasn’t just New York, either. Heathrow had grounded all their flights as well. She’d heard one group of passengers discuss the possibility of a severe tropical storm brewing over the Atlantic.

  A sudden tremor ran through the car, vibrating her seat.

  Finally, we’re moving.

  Beth opened her eyes, thankful to find the red-haired guy had taken the hint and strolled along.

  The train hadn’t started moving, but the vibration intensified, rolling through the carriage with a grumbling echo. It felt like an earthquake and sounded like a rocket engine firing under water.


  “Oh my God,” someone screamed.

  “Is that another train coming?”

  Allira popped up from Beth’s shoulder, mumbling a half-asleep, “What?”

  “I don’t know,” Beth said quietly, her fingers nervously winding the straps of the small pink backpack on her lap. “I’m sure it’s fine.”

  The car wasn’t crowded, the handful of straphangers clearly preferring to stand because there were open seats. The raised voices and tension, however, thickened the space to suffocating. A man further down the aisle pounded the window, cursed and pounded, again and again.

  Beth plastered her face to the window, craned her neck to peer up the tracks, but it was useless. All she saw was shadows lit in the soft glow until they curved into blackness.

  A commotion at one of the doors drew her attention, sent her heart racing as she jumped to her feet to get a better view. An unruly mob worried her more than some vibrations on the track.

  Someone had broken the plastic of the emergency release and another guy, her red-haired stalker, shoved him aside before he could pull the handle, shouting, “Don’t be an idiot.”

  Just then the trembles stopped. Moments later, the rumbling faded and an unnatural quiet settled over the car. It didn’t last. Everyone began talking together, mostly over each other. Somewhere, a baby cried in that annoying, endless bawl. The Louis Vuitton woman had an explosive look on her face.

  Allira stretched her legs out. “This is bullshit.”

  Too agitated to sit, Beth slipped her backpack onto her shoulders and leaned awkwardly against the wall.

  “There’s no signal down here,” she said automatically when Allira pulled her phone out.

  “Don’t need it,” Allira answered and popped her earphones in.

  Beth’s mouth hitched. Allira operated exclusively on two modes, blissfully unaware or painfully bored. The perks of being the baby in the family.

  The inter-leading door between the cars slid open and the conductor came through, a thin, middle-aged man with an air of authority.

  Beth kicked Allira’s foot to get her attention. “The conductor’s here.”

  “About time,” exclaimed the Louis Vuitton woman, making a beeline for him. “This is unacceptable.”

  He ran a finger around the tight collar of his pale blue shirt. “We’re sorry for the inconvenience, ma’am.”

  “Sorry might have worked twenty minutes ago,” she fumed. “What do you think we are? Cattle on a truck?”

  “Ma’am, if you’ll—”

  “I demand to know—”

  “Ma’am!” he shouted, shocking the woman into silence and grabbing every single person’s attention. Even the baby stopped bawling. “Okay…” He moved around her, stepping deeper into the car. “Listen up, we’re going to start evacuating the train.”

  “Oh my God!”

  “Why?”

  “What was that noise? An explosion?”

  “There’s no cause for alarm,” he said, raising his voice to be heard. “There is no security threat or immediate danger.”

  “Then why are we evacuating?” demanded the man who had, ironically, tried to open the door with the emergency release moments earlier.

  The conductor ignored the question and went on to explain that the station was only a ten minute walk back along the tunnel, the third rail had been de-electrified and it was perfectly safe to leave the train. Since they were the end carriage, they would be exiting first.

  “What’s the third rail?” asked Allira, stuffing her phone into the front pocket of her jeans as she stood.

  Beth shrugged. “Who cares? Come on, let’s get out of here.”

  “If you have young children or require assistance, remain on the train,” the conductor instructed. “I’ll stay back to help you transfer to the benchwall.” He looked around. “I need a volunteer to take the lead and be willing to keep an eye out for everyone.”

  A few heartbeats passed in silence, then the red-haired guy put up a hand. “I’ll do it.”

  That surprised Beth. He definitely hadn’t come across as the responsible sort.

  The conductor went over to have a quiet word, then called out, “Everyone, this is Liam. Once you exit the train, follow him, stay close, ask for help if you need it. Don’t linger on the benchwall, do not walk on the tracks and do not go wandering off. I’ll be bringing up the rear once everyone is off this train.”

  Beth nudged her sister forward so they could stay somewhat up front as people spilled into the aisle and surged toward the door which the conductor was opening.

  There was a small gap between the train and the benchwall, pretty much the same as stepping onto a platform—except for the incredibly narrow walkway, the uneven surface and the intermittent dim lights that barely lit the way. She felt sorry for the Louis Vuitton woman ahead of her, tottering carefully in a tight skirt and high heels. Anticipating an eight hour plane ride, at least Beth and Allira had dressed for comfort in jeans and trainers.

  There were another three people ahead, between them and Liam, and an endless, growing tail behind. The noise of chatter, giggles, complaints, curses (and someone hooting like an owl for the sheer stupidity of it) echoed in the cavern as they trudged in single-file.

  Allira had her phone out again, snapping photos. “Shirl and Mandy aren’t going to believe this.”

  “Just don’t show Mom until after we’re home,” Beth said. “She’s already in a state about the cancelled flight.”

  This was the first trip they’d taken on their own, a combined celebration of Beth’s 21st birthday and Allira acing her GCSEs, and their mother wasn’t handling it well. Add another hiccup, and she’d go into meltdown.

  A short while later, the evacuation hit an abrupt dead end. Literally. The tunnel had caved in, the tracks buried beneath a massive pile of concrete slabs and shaken rock. Steel support beams hung at angles as they’d been ripped from the roof. There was no way over or around the compact mess.

  “This is an absolute disgrace,” the Louis Vuitton woman muttered loudly. “They made us walk all this way and my feet are killing me. For what? We’re trapped! We’re going to die in this back hole.”

  Liam stepped up to the task he’d volunteered for. “No one’s going to die,” he said calmly.

  “She has a point,” Beth said, tension tightening her shoulders. She did not like this. “How could they not have known the tunnel had caved in? This stinks of incompetence.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Liam said. “We’re getting out of here. Did you notice the door we passed? Framed with the blue light? I think that’s an escape hatch to street level.”

  “You think?” the woman blasted him.

  Liam shrugged. “Or we walk back to the next station down the line. We’re not trapped.”

  A choir of disgruntled voices joined in as more and more people ground to a halt, packing close and trying to peer over shoulders to see what the problem was.

  “Everyone stay calm,” Liam called out. “The tunnel’s blocked, so we can’t go forward. I’m going to find the conductor and let him know.” His gaze settled on Beth. “Everything’s going to be okay. I swear.”

  She looked into his eyes and felt some of that tension roll off. “You’re surprisingly good at this.”

  “Then it’s working.”

  “What?”

  His goofy grim came out. “I only took the job to get your attention.”

  She rolled her eyes. “And now you’ve ruined it.”

  Liam laughed, and hopped down from the ledge onto the tracks.

  “You’re not supposed to do that,” she called out irritably.

  “I’ll take my chances with any trains that manage to come through.” He threw a wave at her and started walking.

  “What he said,” Allira said and hopped down from the ledge as well.

  Beth breathed out slow and sat, her legs dangling over the edge. “Don’t go far.”

  “There’s nowhere to go,” Allira
reminded her and stuck her arms out for balance as she walked the rails like a tightrope, up and down, up and down.

  It didn’t take long for others to drift from the congested benchwall down to the tracks.

  The Louis Vuitton woman came to stand next to Beth. She seemed subdued. Either Liam’s pep talk had helped or she’d just run out of steam.

  Beth glanced up at her, thought about introductions and small talk, but decided against it. She didn’t want to encourage the woman to launch into any more doom and gloom scenarios.

  Everything will be okay.

  That’s what everyone kept saying. Well, the conductor. And Liam.

  Her brows speared as she looked at the collapsed tunnel. Did New York get earthquakes? Maybe just a small earth tremor that had stalled the train and crumbled a weak part of the tunnel. That was the most reasonable explanation. Right?

  Allira wandered back, nudging her chin at the rubble pile. “Do you think that’s 5th Avenue station?”

  “The conductor said the station was a ten minute walk,” the woman beside her spoke up. “We walked about ten minutes.”

  “Someone mentioned a bomb.”

  “It could have been a gas explosion,” Beth said quickly. Did it even matter? Dead was dead, and subway stations and platforms were always packed with people. Her stomach sank into the horror of it. God, would this day never end?

  Finally, there was some movement, the press of people on the benchwall ebbing in the direction they’d just come from. Someone up front must be issuing instructions.

  Beth peered down the tracks as she stood, looking for Liam. The wave of disappointment when she didn’t see him was unexpected.

  Why had she assumed he’d come back for them?

  Why did she even care?

  Allira scrambled up onto the ledge and they fell into line behind the Louis Vuitton woman, straggling the tail instead of leading the way. Progress was slow, then halted altogether. Some people jumped onto the tracks again to bypass the wait and see for themselves.

  Beth grabbed Allira’s arm before she could even think of it. “If Liam’s right, they’re funneling everyone through a single door. It’ll take a while. Hey, are you okay?” she asked when Allira didn’t protest or complain.