Solar Storm (Season 1): Aftermath [Episodes 1-5]

by Marcus Richardson

  "Everything you've seen hasn't convinced you to give up your sad devotion to pacifism?"

  Jay looked away as he tried to bury the memory of the man pointing a gun at his face. He swallowed, remembering the thug with the knife that slashed him as he helped the woman with the flat tire. Jay shook his head.

  "No. I can't—I won't."

  Mac sighed. "Do it for Leah then, if you won't protect yourself. You were almost sliced in half by that punk."

  Jay put the box down and rubbed the sore hand that had been cut. "You don't need to remind me," he mumbled. "But it doesn't change anything. I will not—I can not—use a gun…it would make me no better than…than…"

  "Than the animals that are destroying Indy? Than the thugs that tried to kill you—twice?" Mac shook his head. "I can't figure you, Cantrell." He threw his hands up in defeat. "Your family, your decision—I can respect that."

  Jay forced a weak smile. "Thank you."

  Mac sighed again and looked around, hands on his hips. "Quiet out here, isn't it?"

  "Like the calm before the storm," Jay agreed.

  Mac grunted. "Well, the next exit's coming up. 137—that’s mine. You sure you’re not going to come see me after you get Leah?"

  Jay stared off into the misty distance, seeking a clue that might mean everything they'd experienced was nothing more than a long, strange dream. Trees poked through the early morning mist, snow dusted the dormant corn fields, and the interstate stretched off into the distance. A crow cawed somewhere unseen.

  Jay took a deep breath of cold winter air. "No," he exhaled, his breath making a plume of vapor between them. "We'll go home first. I have to find out about Kate. If…if your offer still holds—"

  "It's permanent, no exceptions," Mac said waving away Jay's concerns. "Come when you want or when you can. I'll be waiting."

  Jay nodded. "Thank you, Mac."

  They shook hands and the old soldier clapped Jay on the arm. "Don't worry about it, Cantrell. Now," he said, turning to rummage through a backpack he brought out of the truck earlier. "Take this."

  Jay looked at the proffered radio. “You already gave me one.”

  "This is like the HAM radio I showed you back home. It's a lot more powerful than that little one we used on the road."

  "Mac, I don't know how—"

  "Nothing to it." Mac continued as if instructing a rookie straight out of boot camp. "I've pre-programed it for my channel and encrypted everything. As long as you keep it charged, you'll be able to reach me."

  "How do I charge it?" Jay asked, turning the handheld link to the outside world over in his hands.

  Mac looked abashed. "I thought I had a spare solar array, but I don't. I'd give you the one I have but the damn thing's buried somewhere in the bottom of that," he said, jerking a thumb at the Deuce and a Half. "You'll have to make do with a car charger. There's one in the bag," he said, handing Jay the hiking pack.

  Jay blinked. The old man had never so much as given him his mail before, let alone offered supplies and food. "Mac, I can't take this…I…"

  "Damn it Cantrell, get over yourself. I'm trying to help."

  Jay smiled. "Okay, I'm sorry. This will really come in handy."

  "Well," Mac said, clearing his throat and looking away. "See that it does." He snapped his eyes back on Jay, the pale blue orbs searing with emotion. "You bring that girl back alive, you hear me?"

  It wasn’t a question. Jay nodded with as much solemnity as he could muster.

  "I will." He looked down at the backpack in his hands and the box of food at his feet. "I won't forget this, Mac. I'll pay you back—"

  Mac waved him off again. "Don't worry about it." He checked his watch. "If I want to reach the south woods by sundown, I need to get going. You got enough gas?"

  Jay felt his throat tighten with the realization of how completely unprepared he'd been when he started out to bring Leah home. He'd relied on Mac for motivation, food, water, gear, protection—even gas. It was reassuring and humiliating at the same time.

  Some father I am. I wouldn't have even made it to Indiana on my own. I wouldn't have even left Bloomington yet…

  "Son, don't think about what could have been," Mac breathed.

  How do you do that?

  "Focus on the mission—Leah—she must be your whole world right now. Nothing else matters." He raised his hand to stop Jay's protest. "Bring her to safety and then—and only then—focus on Kate. One mission at a time, soldier."

  Jay shook hands and barely restrained himself from hugging the old man. "You saved my daughter," he managed to say.

  Mac shook his head, those steely eyes never leaving Jay's. "No, you'll do that. Now let's get going. Come on, I'll help you load up."

  After they'd successfully stowed all the extra gear in Jay's SUV and topped off both vehicles, Jay shook hands with Mac one last time. He sat behind the wheel of his car and watched the big truck lumber off toward the exit ramp up the road. Jay crossed the overpass as Mac went under, heading north and honking the M35's deep horn.

  Jay watched Mac's truck as long as possible then sighed and settled himself in the seat, his eyes clear and focused on the road before him. Ahead of him, the road stretched straight and true into the distance, a long, gray concrete ribbon lined by evergreens.

  He put his Escape in gear and drove. The miles ticked by, marred only by the roar of the wind through his ruined window. The constant reminder of his brush with death only hardened Jay's resolve to reach Leah. The more he thought about the events of the past few days, the more he realized he'd been consciously striving to not think about what might be happening at her school.

  Anger helped clear his mind and tempered his determination—he swore he wouldn't let anything happen to Leah. He wouldn't.

  So lost was Jay in his dark thoughts that he almost didn't hear the incessant little ding ding warning him he was almost out of gas. As he blinked and looked up, he realized he was almost out of daylight too. The faint pink tinge in the sky was back once more, only not nearly as strong as the previous two nights.

  Jay searched in his headlights twin cones of light for threats. The few cars he'd passed sitting along side the road since parting with Mac had all been empty. One had been torn to shreds, surrounded by a debris field as if someone had ripped it apart looking for something.

  But there was nothing near him now. Only the wary trees, bathed in pink light and shadow. He slowed down and pulled off on the shoulder, listening to his tires crunch and pop over the pea gravel lining the road.

  Jay grunted. It was pointless to worry about blocking traffic on an empty road, he set about filling up his gas tank from one of the extra fuel cans Mac had stuffed into the back of his car.

  The world around him was so peaceful that he couldn't help but gaze up at the sky as he poured the gas. His nose itched at the tangy smell of gasoline mingled with the heady scent of the whispering pines on either side of the road and his own funk.

  Man, I need a shower.

  As he watched a particularly bright band of light shift colors from pink to red to green, he heard it: a sharp crack of someone—or something—stepping on a dry branch. Jay swiveled his head to locate the sound but before he could step away from the car, a shape moved out of the forest at a run.

  "Hey! You got gas!"

  Startled, Jay dropped the gas can. As his eyes followed the can, he spotted the tire iron sitting on the back seat, where Mac had placed it just before they parted ways.

  "Just in case," he'd said, "since you won't take a gun. A good hunk of iron works pretty swell in a pinch. Besides, you've already shown you can use one."

  "I need some gas, man," the stranger shouted as he struggled up the embankment to the road.

  Jay reached into the car and retrieved the tire iron in his left hand. He turned in time to see the man lurch around the rear of the SUV.

  "I need gas for my car. Can I get some?" he panted. "I—I can pay," he said, bumbling at his jeans to free a wallet. He
thumbed through it and extended a handful of crumpled bills. "Here, you can have it—I just need a few gallons, enough to get me home."

  "I…" Jay began, staring at the wad of cash. His eyes moved to the 20-something's belt and spotted a large folding knife glinting in the auroral light.

  Jay had a flashback to the altercation with the thug who'd cut him. His hand burned at the memory. He stepped back on instinct and backed into the driver's door, wincing as the corner of the door dug into his spine.

  "I have to get to my girlfriend," the young man said, his eyes wide and glowing in the unnatural light. "She's sick, man. I need to get some medicine for her—she's diabetic, you know? I'm sorry, but give me your gas and I…I don't want to hurt you…"

  "I thought you said you needed to get home?" Jay asked, growing more suspicious by the second.

  The man's eyes narrowed. He dropped the money. "If you won't give me any then I'll take it," he shouted. Like a snake, his hand snapped down and out, brandishing the knife and took a menacing step closer.

  Jay's chest tightened as all his resolve melted. He tried to think of what Mac would do, he tried to think of words to calm the kid down, he tried to extricate himself from the damn door, but everything jumbled in his head. He froze with indecision like a deer in headlights.

  A smile spread across the young stranger's face. "Maybe I'll just take everything you got—you won't be needing all that shit in your car when I'm done." The kid sneered and stepped forward, twirling the knife. "You should've given me the gas, old man."

  Old man? You're only a little older than Leah, Jay thought. The hardness of adulthood hadn't yet chiseled the softness of youth from the man's face. Anger flared in Jay's chest.

  Old man? This punk is trying to take everything I have. He's going to kill me. Leah will be left all alone…

  The kid charged, screaming in rage and slashed again and again at Jay. He felt searing pain lance up his good hand and struck back blindly. His first swing was a miss, but he surprised the kid enough to force him back.

  The respite was short-lived however, as the knife flashed in the pink light again—this time dangerously close to Jay's neck. He back-peddled and swung up with the tire iron, connecting with his attacker's outstretched arm.

  The boy recovered quick—quicker than Jay would have thought possible—and slashed again, hitting home. Jay screamed and a white hot rage flared in his chest.

  Later, Jay would recall hearing an audible click the moment something snapped inside. He pushed all thoughts of Leah and Kate from his mind and threw everything he had into making the tire iron sing through the air.

  He didn't remember actually hitting his opponent, but his hands felt the blows land as the iron shook and rattled with each impact. There was a final, muffled cry of pain and the young man dropped out of sight.

  Jay came back to himself panting, standing over the inert body at his feet. He looked down, unable to tell whose blood dripped from his hands. The tire iron clattered to the ground with an ear-splitting loudness that seemed obscene in the surrounding silence of the woods.

  The pungent, metallic odor of blood filled his nose and turned his stomach. Jay took a half step back and took a hard look at the body.

  One trembling hand went toward his mouth and froze halfway there. He looked at the blood on his hands, illuminated by the blood red aurora in the sky, then glanced back at the body.

  Oh my God.

  CHAPTER 2

  LEAH PUT HER BOX down on the empty bed and wiped sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand. She stretched her back and smiled at the other students as they brought in more.

  "You're sure this is okay?" asked Thom from the window.

  Leah shrugged. "I have no idea."

  "I'm pretty sure it's okay, man," opined Hunter as he walked into the room carrying a handful of books. "Like I said, the dude used to live here packed up and left this morning. I mean, look around—he didn't leave much."

  Leah nodded, crossing her arms over her chest. "He's right, Thom. It looks like he's not coming back."

  Thom ran a hand through his hair and looked at his belongings moved up from the first floor. "I know, but it just doesn't seem right. Like, I paid for the room downstairs…what right do I have to take over this one? And it's only been a couple days…"

  Leah walked over to stand next to him at the window. She peered out the frosted glass to the dorm across the street. In the night, several windows had been shattered on the ground floor.

  "People have already broken into that building—how long do you think it'll be before they break into ours?"

  "Then maybe we just need to leave…" suggested Thom. "I mean, some of the others have already started to pack up…"

  "No way, man," Hunter said with a wide grin on his face. "The more people leave, the more free shit left behind. By the way, I call dibs on the PlayStation!" Before anyone could argue, he scooped up the abandoned electronic equipment and scurried out of the room.

  "He realizes there's no electricity, right?" Leah asked, watching Hunter stumble down the hallway laughing.

  "He will once he sobers up." Thom stared out the window. "How bad do you think it will get out there?"

  Leah listened to the absolute tomb-like silence of the dorm. Even with the door to Thom's new room opened, there was hardly any noise at all. She didn't hear the usual, air-conditioners or heaters, or the ubiquitous soft droning of bass music from one of the other rooms. There was nothing. She zipped up her sweatshirt and crossed her arms again.

  "I don't know. But if it's only been two days and we’ve already had a riot at the dining hall and people breaking into dorms…" She shook her head. "If the CME affected everything like I think it might have, things could get a whole lot worse before they get better."

  "I wish I was at home…" Thom muttered. "I miss my family."

  Leah looked at his bruised face. "Well, I do too, but I'm glad you're here." She felt the heat rise in her cheeks. "I mean, I'm glad you're up here, instead of down there by yourself on the first floor…"

  Thom looked at his new door. "It's weird, you know?" he muttered. "I've only seen you a couple times, coming and going like everyone else, I guess. It's not like we have the same classes or anything…and here we are, two days after the end of the world and we're living across the hallway from each other."

  And since you've known me, you’ve been beaten up and robbed and saved my ass. Leah shifted her weight to the other foot as heat crept up her neck.

  "Leah!" someone shouted from down the hall.

  Thanking God for the interruption, she jogged out of Thom's new room and turned to look toward the main stairs at the end of the long hallway. Erin limped forward, one hand trailing against the wall. She wore the tattered remains of a winter coat.

  Leah ran to help when her roommate stumbled and fell about halfway down the hallway. She noticed Erin's sunken eyes immediately. Her hair was stringy and dirty and it looked like she'd spent the night outside in a ditch.

  Leah gasped. "Erin, what the hell happened? Your skin's as cold as ice!"

  Thom followed on their heels and helped get Erin wrapped up in blankets in Leah’s room.

  "It was awful…" Erin muttered.

  "What was awful?" asked Thom.

  "Everything…" she turned from Leah to look at Thom. "Excuse me—who are you?"

  "I'm Thom," he said with a half grin that only made the puffiness around his bruised cheekbone that much more gruesome.

  Erin nodded. "Of course you are." She turned and glared at Leah. "What, you went and got yourself a boyfriend now that the world’s ending?"

  "Let's try to stay on topic here," Leah breathed, feeling the warmth in her cheeks return. "What happened?"

  Erin collapsed back on her bed with a deep sigh. "Oh my God, it's gonna take me all week just to get warm again…" She lay there for a moment and just when Leah was about to speak up, Erin began her tale.

  "Well, I went to that party I told you about�
�you know, the one where you bailed early?" she asked, shooting Leah a dirty look. "And I was completely wasted—in fact I woke up drunk yesterday. Which, isn't that big a deal, except there was no power because…well, nobody really knows why, but it was cold as hell."

  Leah nodded, crossing her arms. "Yeah. It was a coronal mass ejection—you know, the thing I was telling you about on the TV before we left?"

  Erin sighed. She popped a hand out from under her blanket to wave in dismissal. "Yeah, whatever. Nobody knows. Anyway, once everybody got up on Saturday morning…wait…what day is it?"

  Thom looked at Leah. "I think it's Monday…"

  "No school…sweet…" Erin muttered before continuing. "Anyway, we all ran out of food pretty quick—there was like, 30 of us there. So a bunch of the guys got the idea of heading down to the dining hall."

  Leah sat on the bed next to Erin. She watched Thom's back stiffen. "Yeah, we know about that too. We were there for the riots."

  Erin laughed. "That wasn’t a riot, babe, that was just…a glorified food fight, I guess. I got there at the tail end—”

  "We were there at the beginning," said Leah with a glance at Thom.

  "Well you got out at the right time," Erin said in a quiet voice. "Things got really bad once people realized the food was all gone."

  "You mean the students?" asked Leah.

  "Nope, the townies. They're the ones who started that mess in the first place. Somebody got the bright idea to raid the dining hall before the students got a chance to have food…which is totally not cool, since we're the ones paying tuition…well, I guess our parents are—"

  "What happened after the riot?" Thom interrupted.

  Erin sat up on her elbows and fixed Leah with a penetrating stare. "Pushy, isn't he? You can do better, honey.”

  “Erin…”

  She sighed and flopped back on the bed. “I told you, that was no riot. The real riot happened yesterday. Once the townies figured out the dining hall was out of business, they turned on all the local shops. Main Street got straight up wrecked."

  Thom stood and moved to the window. He pulled back the heavy blanket and peered down to the street, two floors below. "That must have been all that noise we heard earlier." He turned back to face Erin. "Those weren't firecrackers were they?"