The Dark Days: End of the World - Episode 1

by Ginger Gelsheimer

  “Ah, huh,” he agrees. No fight to put up there.

  We wait in the darkness, hearing nothing but the sound of our own breath and another leaky drip somewhere down in the tunnel.

  “What do you think that was?” he whispers.

  I’m not sure why, but the thought to whisper occurs to me, too. “I don’t know. We’re alive, so I don’t think it was an asteroid. At least not here.” But we smell the smoke, something has happened here.

  A few more minutes pass. Nothing.

  I let out a sigh of relief. “Can you follow my voice, or I can follow yours.” We can’t see a thing.

  “Stay there, I’ll come to you,” he insists. “You could sing.” I can tell he’s laughing when he says it. Maybe that’s why I like him. He breaks the tension.

  “You don’t want me to sing,” I deny him. “But I can keep talking like this until-”

  Just then he turns on a small flashlight on the tip of the screwdriver he stole. “There you are.” His smile says there is much more going on in his head than anyone will probably ever know.

  He shines the flashlight down the tunnel in front of us. Black smoke. He spins around on the heel of his right foot, sort of dramatic, and shines the light where we just came from. More smoke.

  I have a strong feeling whatever we’re about to find isn’t going to be good, no matter which way we go. Guess that’s why I leave it up to him. “Which way?”

  Taking my hand, he leads me toward the “A” station. “My dad’s supposed to be this way.”

  “Good point, so is my brother.”

  “And this is the way out,” he adds.

  At this moment, the latter is probably the one I am more interested in. There is no reason for us to subject ourselves to the mad chaos of people back where we came from.

  With only the small glow of the flashlight to guide us, we navigate through the dark tunnel. All is quiet—no more blasts. Is it over and we’re still alive? A million thoughts roll through my mind. Is my brother okay? And Ben’s dad? Where have the asteroids hit—assuming they have? My parents aren’t coming until tomorrow. Are they safe in Florida so close to the sea level? Wait…are we only alive because we’re underground? I realize I’m being ridiculous, so I shut my mind down.

  We walk another twenty feet and instead of the mysterious blackness, I can see a wall in front of us. We must be coming to a bend in the tunnel. My heart takes an extra beat because I know we’re getting closer to answering some of those questions and we may not like the answers.

  Ben squeezes my hand a little tighter as we approach the curve, and I know he is nervous, too. His palm has grown sweaty, as has mine. What are we going to…

  I eek out a small scream, nearly jumping on top of Ben because I feel little clawed feet scamper across the top of my right foot. The squeaky chatter after I jump pretty much confirms it was a rat. It was too big to be a mouse. I’m kicking myself for not wearing my hiking boots.

  Ben pulls me in toward him in an effort to “keep the damsel” safe, already exhibiting gentleman qualities—shocking for a thirteen-year old, and a small one at that. I’m impressed.

  “Are you okay?” he asks.

  “It crawled across my foot. Uck.” I can handle most things, even snakes, but rats and mice…not my thing.

  We make our way around the curved bend. It’s no longer just the dark that hinders our vision. The smoke has intensified and is creating a fog inside the glow of the flashlight. The haze in the distance appears brighter, so there must be lights on up ahead. That’s a good sign. Maybe a generator has kicked in or better, the power has come back on. I’m surprised the lights aren’t powered by the airport’s solar panels. They never would have gone out.

  “Claudia?” He sounds like he has just seen a ghost.

  “Yes, Ben?” I see what he sees. The lights that came on? Daylight. I’m at a loss for words.

  There is no “A” station and there is no terminal.

  * * * * *

  We cut our way through the fallen debris covering the stairs that used to lead from the tram station to the “A” concourse. The place looks like a warzone. When we get to the top, I can see at least five aircraft on fire outside on the runways, or close by in the surrounding open fields.

  Through a screen of wild orange flames and thick black smoke, I see that one of the planes is completely demolished. It must have crashed into the others.

  “It couldn’t la-” Ben started... Kaboom! The plane next to the burning heap of wreckage blew up.

  “We’re not safe here,” I say. But where do we go?

  We each do a quick scan. People are running everywhere trying to help, or get help depending on their situation. The roof is either gone, or falling down and many of the walls are destroyed. There must be a blizzard outside because the snow is blowing in through the openings in the roof.

  I start to cough from the smoke inhalation, so I cover my mouth with my sleeve.

  “Well, looks like it’s a good thing we didn’t fly Frontier this time,” Ben mumbles, before following suit and covering his mouth with his arm.

  The Frontier gates are gone. They have prime position in the “A” concourse. Not this time. It’s completely bizarre that we are even thinking about it given the current circumstances. I decide he must be emotionally unbreakable—like me.

  It seems a little less disastrous over to the left of us, meaning I can see more light. “This way,” I say giving him a slight tug.

  It’s hard to see much through the smoke, but some spots are better than others. That’s when I see half a dozen dead bodies—some missing pieces, all of them covered in blood. I count another twelve within ten feet and decide to count is not a good idea.

  Ben interrupts my morbid focus. “Look,” he says pointing to the sky.

  Snowflakes drift into my eyes when I look up at dozens of planes that are circling. They have nowhere to land. We need to get out of here now, but I made a promise to him.

  “Do you want to try to find your dad?” I ask.

  Ben looks in the direction of the terminal that’s no longer there. He looks back to me and shakes his head. If his dad and my brother were already here, they’re not here anymore.

  “We landed half an hour early,” I say to give him, or really both of us, some hope.

  Chapter 3

  It’s freezing as we make our way through the rubble. Ben stops now and then to sift through for anything that might be useful. I see him smile when he finds a walkie-talkie on a dead TSA agent. “Look for another one,” he shouts, holding it up like a trophy.

  The poor lady—she didn’t have a chance. Her upper half is all that remains, but she does have another walkie-talkie on her. I pull it from her stiff hand. It isn’t wrong to steal from the dead, is it?

  I wipe the blood off the walkie-talkie using my sweatshirt and push the button to speak into it. “Can you hear me?”

  “10-4,” he answers.

  I almost drop the thing when a man’s voice comes over, “Who’s that?” Ooops. “Where are you? You must make your way to the “B” concourse immediately. You’re not safe!”

  Ben is already looking up and motioning to me as if turning the knob, and then he holds up three fingers. Channel 3. I turn the walkie-talkie to channel 3 and whisper, “Are you there?”

  “Yeah,” he replies. We wait to see if the man can still hear us. Nothing.

  I catch up to Ben and we trudge another hundred feet or so through the stench of death. We’re now in the terminal, or what used to be a terminal. The west side has been destroyed, except for one small section, but it looks like it will collapse any minute.

  Most of the east side is pretty much intact. The Cantina looks virtually untouched.

  “Hungry?” Ben asks. “It might be awhile before we can eat.” He is already in survival mode.

  “Starving!” I agree without hesitation. Am I morbid?

  The escalator is not running, so we climb its stairs, which look strange sticking
out in the middle of all the debris.

  Following Ben’s eyes, I see the planes are still circling. Why? Can’t they see the destruction?

  We hurry up the escalator toward The Cantina thinking there has to still be food there, even if it’s just some tortilla chips and salsa or something. Cautiously, we walk past the hostess stand into the restaurant.

  I’m shocked to discover the cook, an older Asian man, is still in the kitchen and he’s even wearing a chef’s hat. I can’t help but laugh. The Asian chef cooks TexMex. Too bad; I would love to have some sushi about now.

  I look over to the bar and a twenty-something, pretty Hispanic girl sits on a stool. Other than these two, the place is empty.

  The girl jumps down and shuffles over to greet us. “Hola, welcome to The Cantina,” she says. She hands us two menus and waves across the entire seating area. “Sit anywhere you like. We’re not that busy!” she bursts out laughing. Is she really laughing at a time like this? She must just be in shock from what has happened.

  “Anything you want…free today only,” the cook says, walking out of the kitchen.

  Is he seriously still waiting to cook for people? Folks deal with things in different ways, I suppose.

  “Do you have a taco salad?” I might as well take him up on his offer. That is why we came here. Finding two people ready to serve us didn’t change that.

  Ben and I head for a table near the entrance. Our minds are obviously on the same page. We want to be close just in case we have to make a run for it.

  Ben quickly peruses the menu and shouts to the girl, “Enchiladas please, but can I have three instead of two? Oh, and sour cream on the side?”

  I love this kid, I’ve decided. If I had a younger brother, I’d want him to be Ben. Who knows? I may need to adopt him. I don’t see how either one of us is ever getting back to Florida—at least not anytime soon, and it doesn’t look like we’ll be flying there ever.

  Speaking of…now that I can finally sit down, I pull my tablet out. It’s doubtful the Wi-Fi is working, but I figure I should at least check—cross it off the list. No chance. I shove it back into my bag and pull out my cell phone. I dial my brother’s number. No signal.

  Ben smiles at the hostess-waitress-bartender girl. “What’s your name?” he asks.

  “Lena,” she answers from behind the bar. She’s filling a mug of beer from the tap. “What’s yours?” she asks politely, peeking out from beneath the margarita glasses hanging above the bar.

  “Benjamin Willoby, but my friends call me Ben,” he says, exactly as he had said to me.

  “Nice to meet you, Benjamin.” She chugs the beer down. Is she starting to feel the effects of the chaos surrounding us? That which she had apparently missed so far, based on her cheery spirit. Or is she just really weird?

  “Nice to meet you, too,” he replies with no invitation to call him Ben.

  I smile at him. That makes me special I guess. “I’m Claudia,” I wave to her. “Can I get one of those?” I ask. Why not, I might die before I turn twenty-one.

  “Do you have an I.D.?”

  Is she kidding me? “No, I must have lost it in the big disaster,” I say wryly.

  “Ha ha, I’m just kidding you, girl.” She comes around the bar carrying a full beer. “Already had one poured for ya.”

  She does actually have two mugs filled, but I still can’t figure out if I like her or not. She sets the beer down in front of me and winks with a big smile.

  She turns her focus to Ben. “Want a soda, Benjamin?”

  “No, I don’t drink soda. Got a bottle of water? Or actually, do you have ten or twenty bottled waters?” he asks. He points to my beer. “You shouldn’t drink that. You need your “A” game.”

  He is right. Who knows what our lives will unfold into in the next twenty-four hours? I push it to the side and he nods at me with a smile. Control freak already.

  The cook brings us a tray full of food. Forget “Can I have three, instead of two enchiladas” he must have brought Ben a dozen of them…and some quesadillas…and another taco salad.

  “Sorry, it might be lukewarm. We lost electricity.”

  I didn’t care if it was cold. My taco salad is overflowing with lettuce, shredded cheese, grilled chicken and tomatoes. I can’t wait to dig in.

  “What’s your name?” Ben asks the cook.

  I am just about to take a nice big bite of my salad, but I put my fork down to be polite.

  “Masaru,” he says and bows his head. For some reason, I picture this guy doing some major damage with a sword.

  “I’m Ben and this is my friend, Claudia,” he introduces us. “You should eat, too. It may be awhile before we will again.” He slides the quesadillas to Masaru, who has taken a seat next to Ben.

  The salad hits the spot. Peanuts only go so far and I had been late for my flight, so I hadn’t had time to stop and grab my own bring-on munchies like I normally do. I eat as if someone is going to take my plate away at any moment. I know I’m going to pay for it later.

  Lena comes back to the table with her arms full of bottles of water. She sets them down on the table next to us.

  “Do you guys know what happened?” I ask, thinking maybe they caught the news before everything went insane.

  “The plane crashed into the airport, actually two or three planes now,” Lena responds. “Oh, and Australia’s gone…and maybe California.”

  “What?” I ask, bewildered by what she has just said.

  She chews on a piece of bright blue gum. “The news broke in with an emergency broadcast and said, ‘Has California Vanished?’ and then the plane hit us and killed the power.”

  Ben gives her the taco salad. She takes the gum out of her mouth and sticks it on the outside edge of her salad’s tortilla shell. When she digs in, I’m amazed at how fast she sucks down her food.

  I turn my focus to Masaru. “What do you mean Australia is gone?”

  “The asteroid hit somewhere near there. They showed a video on the news and it was under water.”

  That must have been what I saw on the TV at the gate when we first got here. Australia is gone? It’s a continent.

  “They should come with us,” Ben says directly to me. Glad to know he has elevated us to the ones that are making the decisions. He turns to Masaru. “Bring some knives. We may need them.”

  “And some more food,” I add. I look up at Lena, who has already finished her salad and is standing by the table with the water bottles.

  “I’m on it.” She’s eager to help and disappears into the kitchen with Masaru.

  “What’s our plan?” He looks at me with all sincerity.

  Wait. Did that make me the leader? “I say we head west down Pena Boulevard. It’s the only way out of here that I know of. Maybe we can find others who know more, or possibly even a ride west.”

  “Okay,” he agrees. “We keep these.” He tucks the walkie-talkie away.

  “Agree,” I say shoving my walkie into the front pocket of my backpack. It’s also time to swap shoes before we head out on another journey.

  * * * * *

  We look for a place on the west side of the terminal that isn’t on fire, full of smoke, or crumbling. There’s one set of doors to the outside, completely untouched.

  I can hear the monster roar of a jet engine. Hopefully, it found room to land because it’s getting louder and louder, which means it’s getting closer and closer.

  Ben, Masaru and I exit out the doors.

  “Where’s Lena?” Masaru asks. He’s the first to notice she’s missing.

  “She was just here thirty seconds ago.” I have no idea where she went.

  The northern half of the parking garage is destroyed and there’s fire everywhere. I glance back and Lena is running toward the doors to exit the building.

  The roar of the jet’s engine is deafening. It hasn’t found a safe place to land. It’s heading right for us!

  “Run!” I scream and the three of us sprint to the left, running
for our lives. I look back and Lena exits the doors, finally. She smiles and holds up a set of car keys. Not five seconds later, the jet tears through the garage from the north like a tornado. Cars explode like dominoes by the dozens.

  I watch Lena fly through the air and land somewhere in the middle of the inferno. Two more cars explode. She’s dead for sure.

  Chapter 4

  We scramble out the southwest side of the airport and head toward Pena Boulevard. The snow is coming down in blizzard force. Cars are lined up bumper to bumper trying to leave.

  Once we make it about a football field away, we stop to catch our breath. Ben may be small, but he’s pretty fast on his feet. And Masaru, too. Even at fifty-something, he was high-tailing it out of there.

  “Where’s Lena?” Ben asks. He had not seen what I saw.

  I shake my head and can tell instantly how deeply saddened Masaru is. They must’ve been friends; after all they had stuck together at The Cantina when everyone else had abandoned the place. Too bad for Lena that she hadn’t gone with them.

  “I think she died trying to help us,” I say, hoping I can make him feel the least bit better.

  If she’d only known the traffic situation, she would’ve never stopped to find keys for a rental car. At least that’s what I thought she was trying to show me, before she was blown away.

  Sirens blare from two airport security trucks driving west down the median. The cars are also bumper to bumper trying to get into the airport, which is ridiculous. Where do they think they’re going?

  Many of the people from the line of cars have now stepped outside their vehicles—surprising, as cold as it is. Several of them stand on top of their hoods trying to get a better look. Better look at what? It’s all gone.

  We each pull out a bottle of water. Ben takes small sips, while I guzzle half of mine.

  “Better conserve, Claudia,” he says. I like that he’s always thinking, but I know there’s a Conoco down the road. I’ve lived here pretty much all of my life until I left for college. My parents happened to retire the same year and followed me. That’s how we all ended up down south.