The Sanders Saga (Book 1): Fire From the Sky

by N. C. Reed

  She screamed at the top of her lungs then, the sound echoing off the walls and reverberating all through the warehouse area of the building. Brick and two other men came running a minute later to find her crying angrily.

  “Lainie are you okay?” Brick asked.

  “Fine,” she told him, heading for the stairs again. “I'm fine. Just fine.”

  But she wasn't. As she made her way to her room she played the whole thing back in her mind, looking at what she had said and how. He had made a rational argument for what he was saying, she had to admit. He hadn't seemed in any way unhinged or crazy, 'nuts' as he had put it. He was as serious as she had ever seen him.

  She thought back to the trimmings inside the tractor shed, realizing that it had looked like a giant Faraday Cage because it probably was one. And he couldn't have done that alone, or without the others knowing. It wasn't just him. Leon was in on it, as was his father, and at least the twins.

  They all believed him. Why hadn't she? Worse, why had she chosen to insinuate that he was crazy because he believed? She could have been skeptical without questioning his sanity.

  That was what had driven him away she realized. Not that she didn't believe the same thing he obviously did. Just that she had assumed he was mentally ill or somehow unbalanced because of what he believed.

  She hugged an enormous purple cat to her as she sat in her bed, crying. He really was gone. All she had to do was at least respect him enough not to act like he was deranged and he would still be here. Maybe still trying to convince her, but that wasn't so bad. He would be doing that because he cared about her. Instead he was on his way back home and she was sitting here alone again. Just when she had been getting used to the idea of not being alone.

  She tried to think of some way to make things better, but came up empty. Eventually she cried herself to sleep without finding any answers except one;

  She had screwed up.

  -

  He had screwed up. There was no way around that as far as Clay could see. He had trusted her and he shouldn't have. He had let the little head do the thinking apparently, despite his being convinced that she was the one. More than once he had cursed the luck that the world as they knew it might be grinding to a halt in the near future right after he had met the woman that he thought could realistically become Mrs. Clayton Sanders.

  Because that's how far his thinking had run at this point. He wanted to ask her to sell that club that Leon had just given her and come live with him. He feared it would be boring for her, but hoped that she could find something to occupy her time so that it wouldn't.

  Had he over reacted? He asked himself that more than once and admitted he probably had, at least to some degree. While he had not expected her to just accept the truth of what he was saying, the last thing he had expected was for her to essentially question his sanity. It took him by surprise.

  Why didn't I think she might do that? he wondered in hindsight. What had made him think she wouldn't laugh right in his face and call him bat-shit crazy from the start? There had to have been something about her that made him think that. Or was it just that he had hoped that? He had just hoped that she would at least accept that he might be right and just take a look at what might happen if this came to be.

  We don't even know for sure that's what will happen, he snorted to himself in wry amusement. They were gambling that it was and doing all they could to be ready for it, to counter any effects that might arise from it, but in truth, they had no idea what it might be.

  For all we know we'll get hit by a comet.

  That was a sobering thought to drive home on for a man who was already in the worst mood he could remember since arriving back home.

  -

  “Has it occurred to you that whatever it is might not be a CME?” Deuce asked his sister as they worked. She stopped and looked at him.

  “What?”

  “It might be something else,” he shrugged. “I'm asking has that occurred to you.”

  “Like what?” Leanne asked.

  “I dunno,” he shrugged again. “A comet maybe?”

  “Like Lucifer's Hammer?” she snorted. “It's a book, Leon.”

  “And comets hit things all the time,” he nodded as if she had made his point for him. “I'm just saying, what if we've done all this work, spent all this money, and it's something else.”

  “Whatever it is, unless it destroys the planet, or us in particular, we're as prepared for it as we can be,” she pointed out. “Everything we've done will work for anything short of a near miss by a nuclear warhead, a meteor, or comet,” she added for his benefit, “or a volcano sprouting right beneath us. If we survive the initial whatever, we will be able to survive the rest, assuming that surviving is possible.”

  “We didn't dig a shelter,” he pointed out.

  “Useless,” she shook her head. “We would need a shelter the size of the courthouse to hold us all and the food we would need for how many years after irradiation. And emerge into what? All our cattle and horses dead, homes destroyed. Once the food was gone we'd be eating each other,” she shivered. “I'd rather go in the blast, Leon.”

  “Yeah,” he nodded. “Well, at least this might make the rest look at what Uncle Clay says more seriously,” he pointed to the presentation they had just finished.

  “Should,” she yawned. “Alright, that's it,” she stood. “Save it, we can print it tomorrow. That's another thing,” she took a small notebook from her pocket and wrote herself a note. “Office supplies. We need ink, a spare printer, and reams of paper. Pens and pencils, too.” She finished and snapped the little book closed. “I'll get on that tomorrow, too. After church. Which I will not want to wake up for if I don't get to bed soon,” she added.

  “Me too,” he nodded. “We can finish tomorrow.” He shut down his computer as Leanne went to her own room. He was asleep in seconds despite the threat of doom hanging over him.

  Preparing for the end of the world was hard work.

  CHAPTER TEN

  -

  Leon noted Clay's truck sitting back at his cabin the next morning and frowned. Apparently, things hadn't gone well. He was contemplating the walk up to the cabin when Clay drove down to see him on his ATV.

  “Didn't expect to see you today, boy,” Leon commented as Clay walked up the steps.

  “Didn't expect to be here,” Clay shrugged. “I thought you'd want to know that I delivered the deed. She was broken up by it, saying you had done so much for her already. I pointed out that she had done for you too, and that you rewarded loyalty.”

  “Then why are you back here?” Leon asked.

  “Didn't work out,” he shrugged easily. “Way it goes. I'm going to the range for a bit,” he said next. “Probably be out a while. If I ain't around at lunch let them know where I went?”

  “Tell me what happened, son,” Leon was concerned. It was like Clay had flipped a switch and turned part of himself off.

  “She called me crazy,” he said easily. “Said I'd been working too hard and just needed to rest. I didn't expect her to believe me. Not right off, anyway. Just wanted her prepared for next Sunday. Didn't want her to have to go through everything in one day, you know?”

  Leon nodded his understanding.

  “Anyway, she decided I was nutty,” he shrugged. “Bound to happen,” he chuckled bitterly. “I was liking her too much. You know,” he looked at his grandfather, “if the world wasn't ending, maybe, I would have been looking to marry her, if she would have come with me. Ain't that some silly shit?” He shook his head as he headed down the steps.

  “Anyway, she's got the club now, so there's no reason for her to leave, right?” he climbed into the ATV. “See you later, Pa.”

  “Careful, boy,” Leon nodded, lifting a gnarled hand in farewell. He watched his youngest grandson drive away before shaking his head slightly and lowering it.

  “Damn.”

  -

  Clay spent Sunday shooting and didn't bother to go to his
mother's for lunch or for supper as usual. When he became hungry late that night he realized he didn't have anything suitable to fix and decided to head into Peabody. The Wal-Mart there was a Super Center, open around the clock with a grocery, so he shopped. He walked through the sports section noting they were carrying better gear than he remembered as a boy, and through the hardware section where he noted the tool quality had gone down at about the same rate.

  Stopping at the book and magazine rack he found two gun magazines he decided to buy, as well as a novel, a reprint of an old L'Amour book called Last of the Breed. He had read it before but didn't have a copy and decided he needed one.

  I wonder if the twins have thought of stuff like that, he wondered to himself. He was pretty sure they had but decided to remind them of it just in case. Whatever they wanted to download from the web would have to be done before whatever happened, since the net would crater as soon as it did. E-books could be lost he supposed, just like paper books, but they were good for storing reference material. He made an additional note to ask the twins about tablets. Good mediums for storing and sharing information.

  As he pushed his buggy out of the aisle he ran smack into another buggy.

  “I am so sorry,” he began.

  “I'm terribly sorry,” the woman began at the same time, and each realized at the same time who they had run into.

  “I wasn't watching where I was going,” Clay said to Amy Mitchell. “I'm sorry.” He was polite and respectful, but distant.

  “No, it was my fault,” she surprised him, smiling slightly. “I wasn't looking either.” They stood there just a minute and finally Clay pulled his cart in another direction.

  “Well, have a good evening,” he nodded to her, starting to move away. The last thing he wanted or needed right now was-

  “Wait,” she said calmly, but her voice carried. He stopped and looked back.

  “Is something wrong?”

  “No,” she shook her head. “Yes,” she said immediately afterward. “I was wrong,” she told him. “I...I treated you harshly after. . .after,” she settled for saying. “That was wrong of me. At the diner I was still scared, and yes I was scared of you too,” she admitted. “But at church. . .that was wrong, Mister Sanders and I'm very sorry for it. I hope you can forgive me.”

  Wow. That was the last thing he'd been expecting.

  “Well, if you'll call me Clay instead of Mister Sanders, it's a deal then,” he offered, venturing a small smile.

  “Alright, Clay,” she smiled a little bit then. “Thank you. Not just for this, but. . .for the other. I know that you saved me from something ugly at their hands. Thank you.”

  “I'm glad I was there,” he said, honestly meaning it for the first time. “And you're welcome. Anytime. Have a good evening,” he tipped his hat slightly.

  “You too,” she nodded. Clay went on his way, wondering about that exchange. But not enough to stick around and talk to her. Instead he paid for his purchases and headed home.

  -

  Clay didn't spare a glance for the rest of the houses at the farm as he made his way to his cabin. He took his newly acquired groceries into the house and was soon cooking himself a meal, munching on potato chips as he did so. In minutes, he had two hot ham and cheese sandwiches ready to go and piled them on a plate with more chips. Taking a can of coke from his fridge he sat down in his living room and decided to do something he almost never did; watch a movie.

  He watched a favorite flick, an alien invasion feature called Battle Los Angeles. He remembered having seen it on base somewhere in the Middle East, Iraq he thought, he and his buddy hooting at the Marines as they had trouble killing the aliens. Typical inter-service rivalry but it was fun times. A lot of the men he'd watched this movie with were gone now, some buried at Arlington he supposed, others elsewhere. He thought about the ribbons and medals he was no longer entitled to wear and wondered, not for the first time, had their sacrifice been worth anything.

  Realizing he was falling into depression, and how dangerous that was, he finished eating and turned the movie off half-way through, deciding to go to bed. A quick shower removed the day's dirt and the smell of gunpowder and soon he was asleep.

  He had not had the best weekend ever, but tomorrow was a new week, wasn't it?

  -

  Leon had been expecting the call, but that didn't make it any easier.

  “Hello.”

  “Leon, it's me,” Lainie said. “I think I screwed up, Leon.”

  “How's that, Kitten?” he asked her.

  “Have you talked to Clay?” she asked rather than answer him.

  “Early this morning for a bit,” he replied. “Not since.”

  “He told you ...I mean he would have said ...” she trailed off, not knowing where to go with this.

  “Yes, he told me,” Leon kept his voice neutral. “Said you were some broke up over the deed but he was right when he told you that you had done a lot for me. And I do reward loyalty. Always have. The place would be yours in my will anyway.”

  “That ain't what I called about,” he voice was strained. “I do thank you Leon, and you now that I've always been thankful for everything you've done for me but. . .that's not what I was talking about.”

  “I know,” he sighed. “He told you a secret that's been driving him for most of two years I suppose, and you basically called him crazy. Wasn't that about it?”

  “I didn't mean it that way,” her voice sounded defeated. “I swear I didn't. But come on, Leon,” she tried to muster a defense. “You have to admit that is some weird stuff to lay on me and just expect me to believe it!”

  “He didn't expect you to believe and I think he told you that, Pussycat,” Leon was trying to be patient. “He wanted you to be prepared and that's all. He also didn't expect you to tell him he just needed a rest and everything would be all better,” his scorn came out finally. “He thought he had found someone to confide in. In a way that he couldn't quite do with the rest of us, maybe. He thought a lot of you, Lainie,” he said gently. “He thought about you a lot, but he also thought a lot of you. Had high hopes for the two of you I think. He keeps his cards close but it was pretty clear how he felt about you I think.”

  “I begged him not to leave,” she told him. “I've never begged a man for anything, Leon,” her pride surfaced, “but I begged him to stay with me. He still walked out on me.”

  “You called him crazy, Lainie,” Leon countered. “What was he supposed to do? Stay there and let you treat him like he was crazy?”

  “I told him I'd believe him if he'd just stay,” she added.

  “Which just made it worse,” Leon sighed. “You wouldn't believe he was telling the truth, or that he was right, but you'd pretend to believe him in order to get him to stay there. Lainie can you not see how that just made things worse?”

  “I can now,” she admitted. “I couldn't then. All I could see was him leaving. Leon, you have to help me,” she said suddenly. “I have to make this up to him somehow. What do I do? What can I do?”

  “Honey I don't know,” Leon said honestly. “He's been odd today, even for him. Like he just. . .shut himself off. I hate to say this, but he's been gone so long that none of us really know him that well. I've tried to get to know him more since he's been back, and we have spent a lot of time together, but. . .he's still a mystery. To me, to his parents, to us all. And he's carrying a very heavy burden on him that's weighed him down for a good long time.”

  “There has to be something I can do, Leon,” Lainie's voice was tinged with desperation. “I have to get him back.”

  “Lainie, what is it you want from him?” Leon asked her.

  “What do you mean?”

  “What are you expecting out of any relationship you can build with Clay, assuming you can fix things?” he asked her. “Where do you see that going? Becoming?”

  “You mean do I want to be a farmer's wife?” she asked with a delicate snort. “If he was the farmer, then. . .maybe,” she
admitted more seriously. “I already told him I don't have to stay at the club,” she added. “I can leave any time. I still can. Like you said, I can sell it, lease it, doesn't matter. It's been my life up to now but it doesn't have to stay that way.”

  “I don't think you being in or at the club makes any difference to him, Lainie,” Leon told her. “He accepted you the way you were, remember? For who you are, not what you do. I figured that was one of the things that drew you to him to start with. He didn't treat you as damaged or dirty.”

  “No, he didn't,” her voice was soft. Sorrowful.

  “All I know you can do is try and talk to him,” he told her finally. “You can try apologizing for the 'you need rest' thing, and see where that goes. But don't be patronizing, Lainie,” he warned. “Don't pretend to believe things. If you don't want to believe it you don't have to, but don't pretend. If he will talk to you and you do that, then he probably won't talk to you again.”

  “Then what do I say to him?” she sounded stressed. “How do I talk to him if I don't believe what he's saying?”

  “You talk to him like you believe in him, sweetie,” was all Leon could think of.

  “You believe him, don't you?” she asked suddenly. “You believe this story is true.”

  “I know the story is true, Lainie,” was the immediate reply. “I've heard him tell it three times and it doesn't change. As to the 'vision', I was convinced enough to help him prepare this farm for what might happen. Those people record their visions on the walls of the cave where they bury their leaders. Did you know that?”

  “No.”

  “Probably didn't get that far,” Leon sighed. “Well, they do. One of the pictures drawn on the cave wall showed two giant birds crashing into two identical peaks, and the peaks crumbling to the ground. What does that sound like?”

  “Oh, my God,” she almost whispered.

  “He told us about one they thought might be an ancient volcano that buried that city. . .Pompeii, I think? And another that showed a crack in the ocean that shook the world, I think. Something like that. Maybe like that Japanese quake a few years back?”