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

by Marcus Richardson

  The trailer she hid behind was deserted, that much she was sure of after a few minutes of listening. Kate heard two voices now. She couldn’t tell if they were male, female, or how old, but there were definitely two distinct voices.

  Kate slipped out of the shadows just long enough to climb into the rickety, shot-up trailer and disappear into the darkness. Tangy cordite and soot assaulted her nose as soon as she took a breath. Kate turned in a crouch toward the rear of the trailer and resolved not to go any further. All she needed was a place to rest for a bit, then she could continue on foot.

  A voice drifted in through the shattered window, "…ain’t nothin’ here, I’m telling you…”

  Kate tensed, her hand slipping under her shirt and emerging with the chef’s knife she’d brought halfway across the country. As a second person argued with the first, she adjusted the grip on her knife. Something deep down in the pit of her stomach warned her to prepare for combat.

  She shrugged out of her pack and pushed it against the perforated wall, then shifted her feet and prepared to strike. They were coming closer and arguing about something.

  “…you told me that last time,” the new voice complained.

  “Shut the fuck up, Carl.”

  “You shut up!”

  The trailer’s door opened with a crash and through the glow of the light outside, a large silhouette filled the narrow frame. The stench of stale sweat wafted in before the heavyset man stepped into the trailer.

  "I still say this is a waste of time," complained higher-pitched voice from outside.

  The man in front of Kate, visible only as a highlight in the shadows, grunted. "Will you shut the fuck up? I'm tired of hearing you bitch and complain about it. You don't like it? Then you go back and tell the boss."

  The rickety trailer shifted and wood groaned under the weight of the second man who entered behind the first. "I may not be the smartest man on the crew, but I ain't stupid."

  The big man raised a meaty fist in the air.

  The blood in Kate’s veins went cold. Pale light from outside glistened off the heavyset man's eyes as he turned his head, like a predator sniffing for the scent of its prey.

  "Something ain't right," he whispered.

  "Yeah, this place is a piece of shit—stinks like it, too," the skinny one said, one hand reaching out to the perforated wall.

  "Naw, that ain't it." The big man turned in a slow circle, trying to take everything in. "Where the fuck is that candle?"

  "I left it back in the other place, why?"

  "Because I'm hungry. Why the hell you think I'd ask for a candle? It's dark in here, dumbass. Go get it."

  "All right, all right, you don't gotta be mean about it," the younger man complained. He turned and stomped off, his boots crunching on debris outside.

  Kate's eyes shifted back to the bigger man. For a moment, she allowed herself to slip back into the cockpit of her F-22. She identified the prime targets—throat, groin, knees, face—and selected her weapons system, in this case the chef’s knife. She had clearance to engage the enemy, she just wasn't sure if she was looking at an enemy or a civilian.

  The big man glanced out the door, then turned back to face the darkness that enshrouded Kate. "You can come on out now, missy, he's gone. It'll take him a little bit to find the damn candle. Dumbass blew it out first."

  Kate held her breath.

  "Come on out, sweetie," the big man said in a deep, if not unkind voice. "No sense in hiding any longer—I've been locked up so long, I can smell pussy a mile away."

  Kate frowned. Enemy. "I don't want any trouble," she said. She winced at her own words. Despite a solid effort at putting steel in her voice, she still sounded scared.

  "Ah, you won't get any trouble, sweetie," the big man said. She heard the smile in his voice. “Not unless you want some," he said with a low rumbling laughter. He took one step forward, his eyes searching left and right, trying to lock down her position in the darkened trailer.

  "You come out now, it’ll go easier on you. If I have to drag your ass back to the boss, you’ll be in a whole world of pain. I'll be good to you. Ain't a lot of women left out there now, you know?" He took another shuffling step forward, and his arm knocked a jar off the counter. She flinched at the sound of shattering glass and the small movement gave away her location.

  He rounded on her and paused still a few strides away. "My name’s Gumbo, that's Billy out there. You come with me willing enough and I’ll make sure he don't touch you. I'll make sure the boss don't know about you neither. You can stay hidden out here, and I'll take of ya."

  "Just leave me alone and no one get’s hurt," Kate replied, her voice little more than a growl.

  Gumbo laughed again. "Goddamn but you're feisty. I like that. Last girl we found didn't put up much fight and just kinda gave up. It was fun while it lasted but I done got bored and told the boss about her. I don't think she talks much no more.”

  "You come any closer and you won't be talking at all," Kate warned.

  "We’ll see about that, swivel hips. I’m gonna count to three, and if you don't come out, you're sure gonna wish you did."

  Kate adjusted the grip on her knife. She waited for the man to take one last step, then struck like a snake. She darted forward and slashed up at his outstretched hand. On her reverse swing, her blade shuddered as steel met bone.

  By the time Gumbo screamed, Kate’s knife flashed toward what she hoped was his throat. The gurgled cry cut off mid-breath revealed her aim had been true. Kate stepped back as the heavyset man staggered into the wall, his bulk shaking the entire trailer.

  Gumbo collapsed to the floor, crashing among debris and knocking over what was left of one of the countertops. The noise caused Billy to come running back from the other trailer, shouting for his partner.

  "What the fuck?" he called out as he stepped into the trailer, holding his candle aloft.

  Kate had time to get a glimpse of a skinny, pockmarked face sprouting a nose too large for such a narrow head. She glanced at her primary target, writhing on the floor in a smear of wine-dark blood spraying from his neck. She took an involuntary step back, staring in horror at Gumbo’s second, gruesome smile.

  Despite flying hundreds of combat mission and dropping thousands of pounds of munitions on enemy targets, Kate had never been in a close-quarters combat situation. She had caused the death of untold enemy combatants—it was impossible for someone to survive some of the ordinance she’d dropped—but Kate never witnessed the results of her actions up close and personal.

  She dropped back into a crouch and used every fiber of her will to ignore the bile rising up the back of her throat.

  Gumbo’s beady eyes rolled up in his head and his back arched as the blood slowed to a trickle down his chest. She’d severed his cardioid—he wouldn't be a threat to anyone else ever again.

  "Sweet baby Jesus!" Billy gasped from the door, squinting in the candle’s dim light.

  A gurgled, sloppy sound was the only response.

  Kate shifted the bloodied knife to point toward Billy. "Come any closer and you get when he got," she yelled.

  Billy's eyes went round. "A girl!"

  "I'm warning you, get out of here!"

  The shock wore off from Billy's face and a spreading leer replaced it. "Oh, you're the one that needs to skedaddle, lady. When the boss hears about this, you're gon’ be in some deep shit."

  To put emphasis on Billy’s words, Gumbo chose that moment to let out a shuddering, final gasp and smash his fist through one of the cabinets on the floor. He rolled to his side, clawing for purchase to get to his feet, but with so much blood on the floor, he slipped and fell face forward at Billy's feet.

  The skinny man glanced down, holding his candle up high, then stepped back. He kept his eyes on his erstwhile partner’s death throes.

  "I gotta hand it to you, lady—that fat sonofabitch been ridin’ my ass ever since the lights went out. I won't say I ain’t grateful to you for gettin’ rid
of him, though, so how's this—I’ll give you a head start.”

  “What?”

  The smile on Billy’s face widened. “You take off and run whichever way you want and I'll give you all of ten minutes ‘fore I head back to camp. After that, you're on your own."

  "Deal. Now get out so I can leave." She stood and grabbed her pack.

  Billy whistled from the doorway. "God damn, you're looker, too! Maybe I’ll only give you five minutes…the boss is gonna be all over you like stink on shit if I don’t catch you first."

  Kate glanced down and noticed the bulge in the back of Gumbo’s stretched waistband.

  Before Billy could react, she knelt and snatched the ancient snub-nosed revolver from Gumbo’s now death-soiled pants. The hammer clicked back under her thumb and Billy's eyes grew even wider. He put his other hand up, professing innocence and promising to hold true to his 10 minute bargain. He blew out the candle and disappeared into the darkness, the sound of his footsteps receding into the distance.

  Kate stepped over Gumbo’s trembling corpse, slung her pack over her shoulder, and stepped down out of the trailer. She took a deep breath of the cool, seemingly clean night air, grateful to be smelling wood and charred meat rather than the rotten stench of whatever had died in that trailer along with Gumbo. She wiped the back of her hand across her nose, and the strong smell of blood finally overwhelmed her senses.

  Kate dropped to her knees and threw up.

  CHAPTER 10

  JAY PULLED INTO THE Bloomington Community Library’s parking lot to the sound of tires crunching over gravel. He slowed the big Tahoe to a stop near the backdoor.

  “I’ve never been to this side of the library before…” muttered Leah from the backseat.

  “Nobody goes back here—there's a dumpster and a couple spots for me and the other workers and that’s about it. Everybody parks up front. When you park back here,” Jay said, gesturing toward a rusted fire door gracing the library’s massive rear wall, “you have to walk all the way through Special Collections and the Children's section before you get to the offices.”

  “Geez, some library—this place looks like a fort,” Thom observed.

  Jay recalled Mac’s hasty lessons on being prepared for a quick exit and thought better of parking nose in. He backed out, turned the vehicle around over the questions of Leah and the boys, then crept backward as close as he could to the fire door.

  “This used to be a National Guard Armory back in the ‘50s. They converted it in 1991.”

  “It looks a lot nicer on the inside,” Leah offered.

  “That's what she said,” chuckled Hunter.

  “Really?” asked Thom.

  “Really,” Hunter replied in all seriousness. He pointed at Leah. “She just said it, dude.”

  Jay glanced at the mirror, checking on the kids in the backseat. “Okay guys, remember the game plan. Leah, you have the lists?”

  Leah raised her hand, producing three sheets of crumpled, scorched paper. “Got them right here.”

  “Okay, once we get inside, I’ll try to find us some flashlights in the office, then you three find as many books as you can. It shouldn't be too dark in there because we got a lot of skylights.”

  “What are you gonna do, Dad?”

  Jay turned to face his daughter. “I'm going to check the walls and windows—I want to see if this place is safe enough for us to stay for a while.”

  "You think anybody in these houses around here saw us pull in?” asked Thom.

  Jay cursed, then sighed. "Good observation, Thom. I hadn't even thought of that." He peered out the window at the small post-war ranch houses from the 1950s lining the block. He swallowed. They were completely surrounded, right in the middle of town. Despite the fact that they were behind the library, anybody sitting in one of those houses could have seen him pull up.

  Theirs was the only working vehicle Jay spotted since leaving Indianapolis. Though Maria said there’d been at least one government representative driving around, a big black Tahoe was bound to garner attention.

  “You have any parking shelters or anything we can hide the truck in?” asked Thom.

  Jay blinked. “No, so you're going to have to guard it again.”

  "Yay," he muttered.

  “Good thinking, Thom,” Leah said.

  Jay took note how the boy blushed at his daughter’s praise. "Okay, but let's prioritize, guys. First things first—we need those books. You guys get out there and find as many as you can. I'll check on the loading dock and see if the building is still sound. Everybody good?”

  Hunter and Thom nodded from the backseat. Boxes, two Rubbermaid totes and garbage bags full of clothing and anything they could grab before they left home filled the rest of the vehicle. He took a second to scan the truck’s interior. There were still plenty of nooks and crannies to stuff supplies—if they made it back to the house to pick up whatever they left behind.

  “Okay,” Jay said, staring at the house across the street. Did that curtain just move? Too late now…“Let's do this.”

  "Be careful," Thom called.

  "You too," replied Leah.

  The first thing Jay noticed upon entering the building was the cold. The next thing he noticed was the light. He watched dust motes swirl in shafts of light descending from the ceiling like pillars, holding up the roof of his temple of knowledge. For once, Kate left his mind in peace—here, memories surrounded him like a warm blanket on a cold day. Running his hands along the spines of the books in the Special Collections department, he ignored the muttering of the kids behind him. He was among friends now.

  His heart racing, Jay stopped in the middle of Special Collections. As he turned the last corner and entered Reference, Jay hoped his employees had fared better than his neighbors.

  Something seemed off though—the interior of the building should've been fairly dark, lit only by the skylights. Why is it this bright in here?

  Jay's shoulder slumped. “The whole front entrance is wide open,” he whispered.

  “What?” asked Leah, her voice echoing in the tomb-like building.

  Jay put a finger to his lips and hissed her quiet.

  “Yeah, this is like, a library, man…” muttered Hunter.

  Leah snorted. “It was…”

  Jay cracked a smile at Hunter's joke. “It doesn't matter, you got your lists, guys—go see what you can find. We don't have to worry about flashlights now—with those front doors busted open, there should be plenty of light. Everybody set?”

  “Ready,” Leah said in a quieter voice.

  “Roger dodger,” replied Hunter with a with an exaggerated salute.

  "Okay, let's get moving," said Jay.

  He walked through Special Collections, down aisles of nonfiction and biographies to enter the office area. Darlene, his assistant, would've lapsed into conniptions had she seen the state of their workspace. Jay liked to joke that there were neat freaks, and then there was Darlene. She prided herself on running the office area like a pirate captain—everything and everyone had a place and a duty, and they performed under her watch or they walked the plank. On any given day, despite the demands of patrons, the circulation desk would be spotless.

  Jay frowned as he looked at the books tossed haphazardly all over the circ desk. Paperwork and blank forms lay scattered on the floor, rippling with the breeze coming in through the open doors. An unusual amount of light seeped under the door to his office, and Jay knew without looking that his favorite window had long been smashed. His boots crunched over bits of broken picture frames. The big framed image of the library in an earlier iteration had been tossed on the floor and used as a mat.

  Jay paused, expecting a wave of anger, but felt nothing. Other than the books they needed, most of the others were worthless now except as kindling.

  That’s not true. These books are worth something—the history books, the science and math books…when it comes time to rebuild civilization, these things will be worth their weight in gold.
Books will light the way back to a brighter future…if we let them.

  Jay sighed and reached for the door to his office. He stepped over the threshold and back in time. He remembered the sound of his chair squeaking as he leaned back, lost in research validating Mac’s claims of an impending coronal mass ejection. Jay moved around his desk, his fingers trailing through the light dusting of brittle frost that covered everything. The yellowed metal blinds on the window buzzed and rattled in the breeze.

  He brushed snow out of his squeaky chair and sat, smiling as he leaned back and listened to the chair protest one last time. He lay the shotgun on his desk where his computer once sat. His county-provided laptop was long gone and he wished whoever took it well—without electricity to power it, his old HP Touchsmart was nothing more than a very expensive paperweight.

  He opened the top desk drawer and froze. Inside, undisturbed by pillagers, lay the note where he’d written down his findings about Mac’s doomsday theory.

  “You are right after all, you crotchety bastard,” Jay whispered, holding the note in both his wounded hands like a treasured religious script. “You were right. I just hope I live long enough to tell you in person.”

  Jay looked around the remains of his office where he’d spent more time than any place other than his house. It was like someone had broken into his bedroom. He wanted to be angry, he wanted to scream and throw something, he wanted to hit something. Jay clenched his fists and grimaced. The pain in his half-healed hands was enough to snap him back to reality.

  There's nothing for me here. That life is over. Kate's not coming back. Darlene's not coming back. This library is not coming back. The world might not come back…

  He listened to mutterings from the main library, where Leah and Hunter discussed their finds.

  I've got three kids to take care of now. He glanced down at the shotgun on his desk. I'm walking around like Rambo, carrying this gun through town in broad daylight…

  Footsteps outside brought Jay back to the present task at hand. He looked up and watched Leah walk into the office, empty-handed.

  "Dad…"