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

by Marcus Richardson

  "Holy shit," he muttered.

  Leah's' hand on his shoulder startled him. Jay blinked through caked eyes at the bleary image of his daughter, crouched next to him with a worried look on her face.

  No—no I didn't want you to come in here and see this—I didn't want you to remember your home like this!

  "Are you okay?" she whispered.

  Jay nodded. He reached for Leah and pulled her into a bear hug. "She's not here," he murmured into her hair.

  Leah squeezed his neck tight and the two of them shook for a moment in silent grief. Finally, she pulled away and scanned the surrounding debris.

  “Dad, nothing's left…"

  Jay let her help him to his feet as Thom and Hunter remained a respectful distance away, half-heartedly picking through the rubble. Jay cleared his throat and ran a painful hand through his gummed-up hair.

  "How long have you been standing there?"

  "Long enough." She smiled and tucked a lock of greasy black hair behind one ear, reminding him of how she looked when she was nine or ten.

  "I wanted to come in first, but Leah didn't listen," Thom replied with a grim face. He picked up the shotgun, careful to point the barrel at the ground.

  I shouldn't have left the shotgun there. "Be careful with that—"

  "It's cool, Mr. C., my uncle's a big-time duck hunter. I've shot these before—though they were all 20-gauges…" he said, examining the gun.

  "Well…that's a twelve, I think. It kicks like a mule."

  "You want it back?" Thom asked, holding the weapon out.

  Jay nodded at the young man, grateful the boy had at least tried to protect his daughter. He wasn't so bad after all.

  "No, you look a lot more comfortable with it than I felt. Besides," he said, glancing down at his hands, "it hurt like hell when I fired. I don't know if my hands are healing right…"

  "We scoped out your neighbor's place, man," interjected Hunter, poking his head around the corner. "Total destructo."

  Jay sighed at Hunter's assessment of the situation next door. "Well, at least Mac is safe in Michigan."

  "Oh yeah, he called for you while you were…in here," added Thom, not taking his eyes off the shotgun in his hands.

  "Oh?" Jay couldn't find his emotional base—he knew he should be relieved, but he felt nothing…just a hole in his spirit. Empty.

  "Yeah, he wanted to talk with you about something important. Wouldn't tell me what. He was real happy to hear my voice, though," Leah said with a slight smile. "I have to admit, I don't think I've ever been happier to hear his either."

  Jay put a hand on his daughter's shoulder and pulled her into a hug. "Well, I'll call him back in a minute." He sniffed, looking around at the devastation.

  "Dad…" Leah said, looking at the wreckage.

  "No matter what happens, we'll be together—we'll always be together, honey."

  "Yeah, like, all of us."

  "Dude, seriously?" Thom snapped at Hunter.

  "What, it's not like they have the market on mushy moments, do they? I miss my family too—it's like synergy or something."

  "Oh my God. Are you still high?"

  "I wish, bro."

  Jay turned Leah away from the arguing students and stared at the remains of their home. He grunted.

  "Look at that—the living room is almost untouched. Just the way I left it."

  "I don't know, man…this looks wicked bad, you know?" observed Hunter.

  "Yeah…what do we do now?" replied Thom.

  "She's gone," Jay whispered as he sagged against the wall in the front room. He slid to the floor, his legs splayed out in front of him. Jay sighed and let his head fall against the wall as he closed his eyes. It was time to let her go.

  Leah was in his arms again before he knew it. She hugged his neck with a desperation he'd not felt since she was a little girl, frightened of thunder.

  "I'm so sorry, Daddy; I loved her too."

  Jay wrapped his daughter in his arms. Now that grief choked his heart and stole his voice, Jay struggled with the guilt that this entire time he’d been worried about Kate, he hadn't thought about what her death would mean for Leah. The two had become almost like sisters in the years after his first wife's death.

  "Oh honey, I'm the one who's sorry," Jay mumbled around racking sobs.

  After a few moments, they fell silent, too exhausted to cry any longer. Jay kept his eyes closed and his head against the wall as he relished the comforting weight of his daughter.

  A smile came unbidden to Jay’s face as he remembered how many times as a small child he'd held her, wrapped in his arms just like this after a bad dream or a fall from her bike.

  It'd been too long since he'd been needed as a Daddy. My baby girl’s all grown up…

  Something crashed across the room and Jay opened his eyes to see Thom standing over a small case of figurines, red-faced with an apologetic shrug.

  "I'm sorry—” he began, trying to point out the fact that he’d barely touched it before it fell off the wall.

  Jay stifled a laugh. "Doesn't matter, son. It's just junk now. Why don't you boys see if you can find anything useful? It'll be dark soon and unless we want to spend the night in the truck again, I think we better see if we can find access to the basement."

  "Hey man, aren't basements cold at night?" asked Hunter as he and Thom trudged across the kitchen.

  "I think Kate has some camping gear down there," Leah suggested. She wiped at her eyes with grimy palms. "She's probably got a portable heater or something."

  "Yeah," Jay whispered. "She hates being cold." He closed his eyes and buried his face in Leah's hair. "She hated being cold," he said again, more for himself than anyone else.

  It's so damn hard to let you go.

  "Is this the basement?" asked Thom, standing in the middle of the kitchen.

  Jay's shoulders slumped. "It used to be."

  Charred drywall, wood, and furniture from one of the upstairs bedrooms reached halfway to the ceiling, all piled in front of the blistered door to the basement. Several beams and from the ceiling, collapsed in the fire, now completely blocked access to the basement. Jay closed his eyes and hugged Leah.

  "Hey," called out Hunter with a curious tone to his voice.

  Jay was glad for the distraction. He knew the cellar door outside was right behind the kitchen—which seemed to have suffered the most in the fire—and was likely blocked as well. Another depressing setback.

  Jay opened his eyes and peered through the tangled mass of Leah's hair.

  Hunter’s head appeared around the corner leading to the gaping hole that used to be the kitchen.

  "There's a lady outside, scopin' our wheels."

  Shit.

  Jay struggled to his feet. "Thom, bring the gun."

  CHAPTER 8

  LEAH WATCHED HER DAD put a hand on Thom's shoulder. "Let me go first. You come out right behind me and make sure you keep that thing pointed down until we know what we're dealing with, okay?"

  Thom nodded, his eyes wide. "O-okay."

  Jay gripped the younger man's shoulders. "Thom." He waited until her friend's eyes shifted up to meet his. "It's going to be okay. Got it?"

  Thom swallowed. "Sure thing, Mr. C."

  "Okay. Let's go. Hunter, stay back here—"

  "Yo, I found a bat, guys," Hunter said with a wide grin as he held up the baseball Kate insisted they keep in the hall closet.

  Leah suppressed a slight smile.

  "You never know when you're going to need to persuade someone to leave," Kate told her years ago. "Like Jehovah's Witnesses or encyclopedia salesmen or something."

  "Watch over Leah," her father was saying.

  Leah pushed the memory of Kate's words to the back of his mind and stepped behind Hunter. She gripped the car keys in her pocket.

  Can I really leave him?

  Jay stepped out onto the porch. She tried to follow and see what happened after Thom disappeared through the door but Hunter put an arm out and
blocked her.

  "Sorry, señorita, but your dad said we gotta stay here."

  "Hunter…seriously?"

  "Sssh…I can't hear them," whispered the reformed stoner.

  Words drifted over the breeze through the open door. Leah leaned forward to listen.

  "I heard something about a gun," muttered Hunter, just as quiet.

  Leah pushed past Hunter and edged closer to the door. The voices outside grew clearer, and she recognized Maria Cortegera's voice.

  "…thank God you made it back!"

  "Where's José?" her father asked.

  “He’s…he's hurt. Bad. He tried to be the hero, as usual…"

  Leah stepped out on the porch over Hunter’s warnings. “Mrs. Cortegera!” she called out.

  “Leah!” Maria rushed up the steps and embraced Leah in a hug. “Ai, chica! I am so happy to see you…José and I, we are so worried for you!”

  Jay looked at the sky just like Grandpa Herbie used to do. “Why don't we all go inside and talk.”

  They all entered what was left of Leah's house and settled in the living room. While it was slightly warmer inside the half-house, it wasn't much of an improvement.

  “Why were you out wandering around? asked Jay.

  “Esteban needs more food. José is hurt hace dos días. Ah, two days ago, sí? When people break into our house." She shrugged. "So I go look for food now.”

  Jay frowned. “How bad is he hurt?”

  “Oh, not so bad,” Maria reassured him. “A sprain ankle, cuts, and bruises. But I did not want him hurt out here by himself. It is Esteban I worry for. He is not well…”

  Leah watched Maria’s dirt-encrusted fingernails as she played with the zipper pull of her coat. Her proud Latina neighbor looked up and caught Leah's gaze, then folded her hands in her lap. She had always prided herself on maintaining an exquisite appearance, even after giving birth to her child. No one ever saw her in sweat pants and a t-shirt—Maria Sofía Cortegera was always ready to step out for a night on the town.

  This must be one hell of an adjustment for you.

  "Well, where are you staying?” asked her father. “Your house looks…”

  “Sí. Gone. Completely,” Maria whispered. “We lose everything.”

  “But how…when…?”

  “A couple days after you leave.” Maria glanced sideways at Jay. “It is all Señor MacKinnon’s fault.” She crossed herself.

  “Mac?” asked Jay. “How is this his fault? He left with me…”

  “Well…someone remembers a huge truck in his driveway the day before the lights, they go out." Maria looked at Leah. “Once everything is dark and we come out the next morning, the truck, it is gone! We figure he knows something and probably…well, he has many…things. Supplies.”

  “So what happened?” asked Jay, his voice taking a harder edge that Leah was used to hearing from her soft-spoken father.

  “Well…dos hombres get together…and before anyone knows what is going on, someone throws a rock through a window.”

  “You broke into Mac’s house?” Leah asked, incredulous. “With your neighbors…?”

  “Not seeing a lot of love in this ‘hood, man…” Hunter muttered.

  Maria looked around at the faces arrayed before her. “It wasn't my idea! I swear—most of us want to go home and figure out what to do, when two men…well, they think Señor McKinnon has something like food or water we can use.…”

  Her halting speech continued, “Once the first window was broken, everyone…they break down his front door.”

  She looked down her lap. “I am so ashamed…It is hard to talk about.”

  “Try,” Leah snapped.

  Her father put a hand on Maria's shoulder. “We know it's not your fault…and we’re not blaming you,” Jay said, looking pointedly at Leah. “Just tell us what happened.”

  “Well,” Maria said, still looking at her lap, “I was with Esteban, he is sick…a fever, sí? Not too bad, but he is not eating. So I keep him happy and play with him when I see light across the room. I open the curtains—José says we need to keep all the windows covered so people do not break in…”

  Leah rolled her eyes at the irony. She glanced at Tom who nodded in agreement.

  “…and then…I see a fire come out of Señor MacKinnon's house. It didn't take long…maybe an hour, and the whole house was in flames. Tan tragico!” Maria cried, her face in her hands.

  Leah took note of the leaves and twigs tangled in Maria's unkempt hair. Had she been sleeping on the ground?

  Maria looked up and sniffed, tear tracks had cut swaths of clean, olive skin through the layer of dust and dirt on her face. “Oh Jay, it was awful. The fire keeps going, and everyone stands around in the street, just watching it—there is nothing else we can do.” She looked at Leah.

  “There is nothing we can do,” she repeated, her accent—normally kept on a tight leash—conveying the pain in her voice. She turned back to Jay and grabbed his hands in hers. She didn't seem to notice that Jay winced at the movement.

  “There was nothing we can do!” she said again. “We cannot call the fire department, we have no cell phones…so…we watch it.”

  “But how did all the other houses catch on fire?” asked Leah.

  Maria let go of Jay’s hands and turned to face Leah. “It is muy ventoso…very windy that night, sí? The sparks, they jump across to your house…but mostly they fly over the road." She looked up at the ceiling, muttering in Spanish.

  “I tell José—it is ira de Dios, the wrath of God." Maria crossed herself. "Everyone thinks Señor McKinnon is an evil man—a hoarder, sí? But when they break into his house, they say it looks normal, like everyone else. Pictures of family on the wall, books, furniture and TVs. They find a few cans of food in the kitchen, but everything else is gone. His garage is empty, except for some tools. There is nothing in there, nothing at all! It is all for nothing!”

  Jay reached out and pat her shoulder but pulled his hand back and frowned. “What happened next?”

  Maria wiped at her face and choked off a sob. “Oh, it is awful,” she wailed. “While everyone stands around wondering what to do about Señor McKinnon's house, someone shouts that your house is on fire. And then a big gust of wind comes through and there are sparks—so many sparks—they light up the sky like stars,” she said, her eyes glazing over as she remembered.

  Leah clenched her fists. The fools set fire to Mac's house…and hers.

  “They keep coming, blowing right across the street. Some of the children try to catch them like fireflies,” Maria muttered with a small smile, but it faded almost as quickly as it appeared.

  “Soon though, our house and the houses on either side of us catch on fire. It spread from there…”

  “My God,” Jay whispered. He looked up. “Was anyone hurt?”

  Maria buried her face in her hands again and sobbed, this time not bothering to stop the tears. “Sí,” she muttered through her hands. “Madre de Dios…sí,” she whimpered. “Tabitha y Saul Beltano, and Mrs. Peabody…they died," she sobbed.

  "Oh my God," whispered Jay. He looked at Leah.

  "Even little…little Sammy Johnson,” Maria finished, breaking down into a whimpering, crying, mess.

  “Sammy Johnson? But he's only four…” Jay muttered.

  “The Johnsons…their house catches fire—they are not there…for any of it…” Maria blurted. "They were sleeping…we find their house the next day—it is behind ours…oh, Jay it is awful…"

  Jay stood and moved away from his neighbor. “You people thought you could steal from Mac—you somehow set his house on fire and burned down half the neighborhood…including my house…and you expect me to…?” Jay stared out the window at the devastation across the street.

  Maria said nothing, only sniffled and wiped at her eyes again. She nodded. “Jay, I'm so sorry…” she muttered.

  Wow, Dad… Leah stared at her father like a man she'd never met.

  "I'm sorry," Maria whi
mpered.

  Jay peered out the window. He wiped one grimy finger along the glass and examined the soot caking his fingertip. “So am I…” he muttered. His shoulders slumped. “But I can't say I blame you, either,” he muttered as he turned.

  Maria’s tear streaked face looked up from her hands. “You…you're not even angry?”

  “I didn't say that,” Jay snapped.

  Leah blinked and sat back in her chair. She’d never seen her father act this way before. He was always so easy going and relaxed—even when she’d accidentally disengage the parking brake on his old car and backed out into the street when she’d been seven.

  “You're just doing what you had to do to survive, I suppose…” he sighed.

  “Sí!” Maria nodded vigorously, grasping at Jay's response like a drowning woman in an ocean. “Yes—we had no choice! Once someone mentioned food…Jay, we had all run out so quickly…my baby was starving…”

  Jay waved her response away. “It doesn't matter now, does it? We've all paid the price for greed.” He looked around. "Our whole society was based on the acquisition of…stuff," he said, waving a hand. "And look where it got us? All this stuff is useless."

  "Yo, that's deep, Mr. C.," said Hunter.

  Jay looked around at what remained of his house as if seeing it all for the first time. “Where are you and José staying now?”

  “We live in Todd and Linda's house. They left…we’ve always thought of them as friends. We had their spare key…so…”

  “Did you find any food?”

  Maria nodded, looking at the floor to avoid Jay's eyes. “It felt like stealing from the dead, but we found food. At least enough to get us by.” She looked up. “But we’re almost out again and I don't know what we're going to do. I was walking around looking to see if anyone was left—” Her words tumbled one over the next.

  “Or if anyone left something behind?” interjected Leah.

  “Sí…” muttered Maria. She glared at Leah and tossed her unruly hair over one shoulder. “I will do whatever it takes to keep my baby safe.” She narrowed her eyes, as if daring Leah to challenge her words.

  “Clearly,” muttered Thom.

  Jay cleared his throat before Maria could turn on the college student. “Is there any kind of government response around here? Any FEMA camps or anything? We’d heard…”