Susan squeezed his hand, while they looked up into the cloudless night sky. “She’s twenty-two, honey. Hardly an impulsive teenager. I have my worries, don’t you doubt it. For right now I’m just glad she wants us to come.” As if sensing what needed to be done, Susan stood up and clapped once. “Let’s go, old man,” she giggled.
He laughed, too, because of the hand clap. About twenty-five years ago, they’d gone to a swanky dinner at a political event held by the company where Susan worked as an intern. They’d gotten separated during the meet and greet, and he had to listen to a speech from one of the party bosses before he could go track her down. However, after the muckety-muck gave his talk, and everyone stopped clapping, Ezra clapped one extra time in an effort to show how little respect he had for political speeches.
Out in the crowd, a random person clapped a single time in response, stealing away the final clap he so coveted. Over the next minute, he traded one-off claps with the mystery person until he tracked down the culprit: it was Susan. They shared an equal disdain for the political class, and so the joke refused to end. Susan was still trying to get the last clap, two and a half decades down the road. That stubbornness was part of why he fell in love with her.
Hard experience taught him if he clapped back, she would keep responding in kind, no matter where they were or who was around. He had to leave a church service during one exchange just so he could end one of their volleys. She admitted many times it was a childish game, but it was one she loved to play with him. He chuckled at her fortitude in keeping it up, before adding: “Fine, you can have this one. I’ll start the engine.”
They’d both gotten to their feet when a light appeared in the sky to the west, where they’d been watching the distant shore and the stars above. Susan pointed to the new arrival and shuffled back toward the front seat. “How convenient. There’s the start of your meteor shower. Let’s watch, just not for too long, okay?”
In seconds, the small dot grew in brightness, its intensity flickering, like it couldn’t make up its mind if it was coming or going.
“Looks like a big one,” Susan added with excitement as she took her seat and watched. “I guess I can see why you wanted to be out here.” Since they lived on the lake in the country, they were used to seeing the streaking space rocks hitting the upper atmosphere. Most were tiny and disappeared in a second or two; the one above was different.
“Yeah, it’s still coming.” Ezra was torn between sitting with Susan or starting the motor, like he’d intended. The intensity increased at an alarming rate, raising his hackles that something wasn’t right. After a few moments of indecision, he walked to the captain’s chair and plopped down. He started the motor, intending to get underway, as the point of light kept growing.
“Is it something else?” Susan said with a hint of worry.
“I’m sure it’ll burn up. They always do,” he said in a reassuring tone. It was the same thing he’d told Susan and Grace whenever they watched shooting stars together.
His hand remained on the throttle, while he couldn’t peel his eyes from the object above. It was now painfully bright, despite the small size, like a distant star that had gone supernova. A long tail of fiery debris trailed the leading orb.
“Susan…” It was a lot like watching a thrown baseball heading for his face, though at cosmic speeds and across cosmic distances. The fireball hurtled almost directly toward them; it was impossible to see it any other way. “Come back to your seat. Maybe we should get going.”
The engine hummed at the ready, but he made a choice not to throttle up. Instead, he jumped from his seat and met his wife in the middle of the boat so he could hold her close. Together, they watched night turn into day. “Please don’t hit us,” he begged God.
The shooting star became as bright as the sun, then it doubled and tripled in intensity. He choked back the abject terror at seeing Mother Nature whip up the most terrifying and awesome display of raw, unchecked power he’d ever dreamed of seeing. It wasn’t a sports ball heading for his face; it was a descending nuclear explosion.
Ezra was forced to use his peripheral vision to watch it arc down out of the sky, but he soon had to close his eyes when it became physically painful to look in any direction. Susan wrapped her arms around his torso and pushed her face into his chest. In moments, everything around him went white—even his eyelids didn’t blot it out. Susan squeezed.
“I love you, Susan!” he shouted.
The bulk of the energy turned off like a light switch had been thrown, though the afterglow in his retinas left him momentarily blind. He opened his eyes, surprised he could see anything. To the west, near Paducah, another switch was thrown; a second surge of white-hot light expanded on the horizon, like an explosion had taken place there. He closed his eyes, knowing it wasn’t safe to watch.
A deep roar followed, and shook the water and air all around, like a thousand lightning strikes generating a thousand booms of thunder at the same instant. On the shoreline behind him, birds squawked and wings rustled, as if they’d been scared out of their perches.
“I love you, too,” he heard from a million miles away.
Along the far side of the lake, from the same direction as the impact, trees fell over as a shockwave pushed through them. His distorted vision forced him to wipe his eyes just to be sure he saw it right. When it reached the water, the rushing air stirred up a giant wave and pushed it eastward. His eyesight was true; it would reach them in seconds.
Ezra was nearly frozen by the fear, but if there was to be one last act, it would be trying to save his first love. “Susan! Jump for it!” He pushed Susan, knowing she couldn’t have heard him over the approaching growl of wind.
Just before he struck water, his very last thought was for his daughter. It was the only time in his life he was glad she wasn’t around.
Chapter 2
Yellowstone
Randy sprang into action as the screams amped up at the campground. He sprinted over to her and spoke in a quiet tone. “Grace, I’m going to check the tents. It didn’t seem terrible here, besides the wind, but you know how finicky tourists can be. Take care of these people, okay? Stay with them. Got it?” He turned to go, when over his shoulder, he added, “You did great not freaking out, by the way.”
“Thanks,” she said with pride. She watched him run down the trail, leaving her to manage the smaller crowd, though it was already shrinking. Many shuffled their way back toward the tents, the same as Randy had done. Several of the remaining adults in her audience were in tears; the two youngest kids sobbed uncontrollably.
Streaks of light continued to fall, zippers of pure energy being opened and closed. Most came in at the same general west-to-east trajectory as the first big one. Some fizzled out while still high up in the atmosphere, like normal shooting stars. More than a few made it all the way to the surface, though the trees made it difficult to see where they hit. The first meteorite still lit up the eastern horizon, leading her to wonder where it had gone.
“Ladies and gentlemen…” She could either make the unusual event about human fear or nature’s wonder. “I think we were just given the treat of a lifetime; we’ve seen a meteorite land close by.”
“And we lived to tell the tale,” the French father joked while comforting his wife. A few people replied to him with nervous laughter, which was an indicator her tack would work. If she could get them to see a little humor, their fear would eventually drain away.
“We’re lucky,” she added, regaining her professional tone, “in that it didn’t land on top of us. Meteorites can leave big craters, and nothing lives in the impact zone.” She picked up the fish. “But our visitor was close. This little girl came from the lake when the rock splashed down.”
There were titters of laughter. Campers were recovering.
“This wasn’t part of the show, but I’m going to the lakeshore to see where it touched down. Does anyone want to come with me?” She held up the fish. “I’d also like to put
this girl back where she belongs.”
A few more people peeled off, including the mother and father with the two kids. No amount of scientific curiosity was going to convince them to get closer to whatever had caused that sonic boom. She didn’t blame them for leaving. In the end, about ten people stuck with her as she hiked the tree-lined path to the lakefront.
When she got there a short time later, she found everything soaked, as if the lake had surged twenty or thirty feet up the steep bank. It didn’t surprise her at all to see a small crowd had gathered at the water’s edge, where the shore was level. They huddled around something she couldn’t see from fifty feet away.
“Here you go,” she said to the rainbow-colored trout as she dropped it in the lake. She used her flashlight to watch it slowly swim for deeper water, giving her a sense of accomplishment at saving a life during an emergency. Even if it was a fish.
She trotted to the crowd and forcefully cut through the gaggle of people at the water’s edge. “Stand back! This could be dangerous!” Her anxiety turned to fear when she saw several men holding fist-sized rocks. “Are those pieces of the meteorite?”
One of the men looked at her, his clothes drenched. “I was right here when it happened. The light hit a couple hundred yards out in the lake, and it soaked all of us standing alongside the water, but I got to see this piece as it broke off and slapped against the shore. Look at it.” He held it with two hands, like she was going to grab for it. “It’s gold.”
She used her flashlight to confirm it had a golden hue, though she couldn’t be sure whether the metallic substance was a precious metal. The men were taking a huge risk even holding the rocks. They’d just come down from space. Were they radioactive? Could anyone be so dumb?
“Is it hot?” she asked, not sure what else to say in the face of such obvious danger.
One of the first lessons she’d learned when she signed up with the National Park Service was that stupidity didn’t end at the park boundaries. If anything, park visitors tended to leave their brains at the border, making some of them criminally dangerous with their lack of thought. She’d witnessed visitors getting injured while taking selfies with bison, falling from great heights after climbing on off-limits terrain, and getting burned by the hot waters of springs and geysers. No matter how many signs they posted, someone always broke the rules. Not to be outdone, these men were holding chunks of stone from outer space, oblivious to the risk, simply because they looked like gold.
“Park policy is that rocks and minerals must be left inside the park,” she said matter-of-factly, hoping some good old-fashioned logic would help the situation. Grace was tempted to add, “Take only pictures; leave only footprints,” but thought the simple motto might be too condescending, given the heat of the situation.
The two men looked at each other, and for a second she thought she recognized a return to sanity. Unfortunately, they were on a different frequency completely. They both stepped backward out of the group, spun around, and ran different directions into the night.
“Hey!” she shouted, not really sure if she should make an effort to stop them. None of her park ranger skills included apprehending meteorite thieves. Poachers, yes. Vandals, sure. Lost children, you bet. Theft of potentially precious minerals from a meteor strike that had nearly wiped out a star-gazing group? That was outside the scope of the training videos.
Grace took a few steps back from the water, suddenly wondering if she’d placed the campers in additional danger. Since she was out of the trees, she had a commanding view of the light show continuing above. The faint glow over the eastern horizon really lit up the mountains on the far side of Yellowstone Lake, which in turn cast a glow upon the water’s surface in that direction. As far as she could see, the lake seemed surprisingly calm for having recently been struck by the meteorite. There were a few whitecaps out there, but it wasn’t any worse than a typical windy day at the park.
A man walked up to her while she finished her observations. “Miss Ranger? We saw several of these lights come down. The men picked up two pieces already. Do you know where we could pick up some for ourselves?”
“Yeah, we’re going to Old Faithful tomorrow,” a woman added. “Do you think it was crushed by one of these falling stars? That would be a great photo opportunity.”
She smiled her biggest smile in the darkness, careful not to make light of their inquiries to their faces. They were the kinds of questions she got almost every hour since she’d started working at the park. No matter how majestic the scenery or interesting the wildlife, tourists were always asking about the next point on their map, or what they were going to do the following day. If it meant destroying one of the premiere geological masterpieces in the world, then so be it. As long as they could take pictures.
Grace’s radio warbled, causing her to jump a little. After the bright lights and thunderous impact, and the confusion that followed, the everyday sound seemed exotic. She excused herself from the campers, glad to avoid their questions for a few extra seconds.
“This is Grace,” she said into the handset.
“Grace, this is Randy. I’m at the main campground station. It’s crazy back here. Lots of people scared, but thank God there are no fatalities. We’ve got a ton of hand-holding to do, and every available ranger is now working the scene. We just got an emergency call from the northern alpine hut. I can’t spare any of the experienced rangers, so I need you to handle it.”
She groaned to herself. It was a low person on the totem pole type of task, and that hut would be the worst of the worst. The alpine huts were all in remote valleys around the park, and the northern hut was one of the most difficult to reach. It would be a long night of driving on a tiny gravel road.
“There is nothing to see at the lake,” she replied, careful to avoid sounding like she was complaining. “I’m happy to head back. Any idea what to expect up at the alpine shack?”
“None. It’s an automated response.” She figured as much, though she had to ask. Each hut was equipped with an emergency transmitter. Essentially, it was like pulling a fire alarm to get the attention of the authorities. They were too remote for proper communications, so the expensive alarms allowed wayward travelers to make themselves known.
Someone was in trouble, and it was up to her to rescue them.
Kentucky
Ezra looked up through the murky green water to see if it was safe. The sky was bright orange, as if he swam underneath an Arizona desert sunset. He’d jumped overboard a moment before the shockwave hit, and the ensuing tsunami had taken away his boat, but he and Susan managed to get deep enough to avoid being dragged with it. Her blonde hair floated around her head as she appeared a few yards to his right.
Thank you, God.
She got closer as they tried to stay in the deep. A minute went by before his lungs begged him to end his waiting game. Susan looked longingly at the surface, as he did, until she glanced his way.
He pointed up.
She nodded.
Ezra kicked to the surface to check it out before Susan could do the same. If it was too dangerous, he’d keep her from going all the way. When he hit the air, he took a deep, desperate breath, before realizing the futility of his chivalrous intent. No matter what he found up top, Susan couldn’t stay under there for another second. Just as he’d done, she came up and seemingly inhaled her body weight in air.
He’d lost all his bearings, and it didn’t help he was still fighting the glare in his retinas. Where previously there was a placid lake lined by huge oaks and pines as part of a silent evening, it was now an apocalyptic nightmare. Century-old trees had been knocked over like so many bowling pins, while those that had survived were being burned alive. Orange flames danced on their canopies, and the smell of smoke blew across the water. The wind had kicked up, too, though instead of a refreshing nighttime breeze, it was warm and dry, bits of cinder and ash hissing out into nothing as they touched Ezra’s skin. The lake, a smooth, calm pane of glass a mome
nt earlier, looked like a child had done a can-opener dive into a half-full bathtub as large waves kicked against the shores, the water sloshing side to side wildly in all directions.
I’m on Kentucky Lake, he reassured himself, remembering everything that had taken place over the last minute and a half.
The sky over Paducah thirty miles to the north looked like someone had ground up the city into a powder and tossed it thirty thousand feet in the air. The billowing dust storm was as large as a towering cumulus cloud harboring the worst thunderstorm in history. Lightning flickered in the distant formation, right up to the top of the still-rising mass. Fires burned around it, lighting those clouds from below with the orange glow.
“I think we got hit with the mother of all meteorites,” he shouted. The fact they were alive spoke volumes about its size. He’d read articles about the asteroid that killed the dinosaurs, and he’d seen movies about big impacts on the Earth. If they were still alive to complain about it, it couldn’t have been a planet killer. However, it didn’t diminish the damage between Paducah and his home.
Ezra bobbed on top of the debris-strewn water as high as he was able, so he could get a look across the lake to his house. Even through the thick haze, it was apparent one of his neighbor’s houses was on fire, as were many of the cultivated trees in their neighborhood. His immediate concern for his and Susan’s safety was eclipsed by their intermediate-term survival prospects. They had nothing except the clothes on their backs, but the house had everything necessary to keep them alive, as long as the fires didn’t spread.
He couldn’t help but remember that all their worldly possessions were neatly stacked in highly flammable cardboard boxes.
Texas
Petteri Tikkanen walked into the smelly operations room and cringed knowing such a place existed inside his state-of-the-art space launch facility. Twenty men and women sat around the page-strewn conference table, toking on e-cigs and chugging coffee as they pored over data and jotted notes. They’d been in there for the past forty-eight hours, and they looked as bad as the place smelled. The sweat-soaked faces all turned to him as he strode in. “Tell me we made it through this,” he said as he found his meticulously clean seat at the head of the table.
Impact (Book 1): Inbound Page 3