A Abba's Apocalypse

by Charles E. Butler

  place then joins me. This is one hell of a mess. The last time I

  saw anything resembling this was war pictures of 1945 Germany. All the distant craters have turned the town view in to what looks like a block of pumice. Gary states, “It looks more like the surface of the moon than our town.” I wonder if anyone could have survived this. Gary and I run towards where I imagine the alleyway was, as we start the journey of searching for our friends.

  We find the dust covered trail resembling the alleyway and begin walking. I tell Gary, “Be ready to ‘high tail it’.” I explain how the LD should be more worried about regrouping and surviving than going around searching for us. But, we should still be ready in case we come across any LD wandering around. I look up the alley through the streaks of smoke hindering my vision to what maybe ahead. I try explaining what happened the other miraculous night as Gary fights to stay alongside my long strides. He seems diligent to hear my riveting encounter, but all the debris, holes, and smoke force him to straggle just behind. I periodically wait for him to catch up as he tries dodging alongside me. His drooping mouth and shaking head suggests he’s not only amazed to what happened, but consumed by my unbelievable encounters. Gary is especially intrigued by the part about finding Katie, and rescuing Moses. I kind of have a hard time accepting it myself. Now, he understands my urgency to find this family.

  I see the “old mill,” as I quicken my pace. I figure we’ll stop by there first. I’m surprised to find the building is still standing after passing so many totally destroyed. I do see it has taken some damage as we draw closer. We step on to the property as I notice a couple dozen chunks of what probably are meteorites strewn between us and the mill’s back door entrance. There are long drag marks in the soil caused by the skidding pieces. Oddly, each points their trail away from the building. I have no idea why these trenches would be traveling away instead of going right through the building.

  The only thing I can come up with is: the meteors somehow

  ricocheted off the “old mill.” That seems impossible since meteors are rocket rocks made of iron traveling at supersonic speed. Every possible solution I try coming up with renders more questions rather than answers. We cautiously enter the back of the building as I continue to rattle my brain for possible solutions.

  I swipe at the irritating dust cloud circulating throughout this large room. I move over to the counter holding captive the cobweb covered cash register. I wonder, “If it could only talk, it could tell me about all the interesting people it serviced, and the wonderful stories it must have overheard throughout the years.” I move towards the counter thinking it may be a good place to hide two kids under. I jump over a broken chair and shuffle around a display case leaning over. I see it has a hole punched through its glass cover; probably by a past pilferer. “Moses, Katie!” I yell, hoping I might get a response. I see Gary out of the corner of my eye venturing into the adjacent room. I leap over the dirty counter and bend down to check behind it. I find no signs anyone’s be behind here lately. Debris blocks me from continuing any further. I retrace my steps back to the entranceway and take a different course of action. I continue to finish checking the rest of the room. I don’t find any evidence that anyone may have been in here. I rub my burning eyes and cough several times. I find the air is becoming a toxic mixture of dust and the encroaching smoke seeping through the back door. I pull my undershirt up and over my nose hoping this will reduce some of my ailments. I decide to keep moving, but as fast as possible in an attempt to limit my exposure. I leave this room and follow after Gary.

  I look up as I enter this larger storage area. I am astounded to find a hundred pin holes of light streaming through the tin roof. Tiny streams of yellow lasers illuminate the entire area. I see Gary on the other side of the room bent down. He is leaning up a panel of plywood that was covering

  a fortress of boxes, cement blocks, and a couple chairs. I call

  out again, “Moses, Katie!” I journey closer to Gary to analyze his finding, as I journey through the tiny galaxies of stars orbiting over my entire body. As I get close, I hear Gary determining someone was definitely here. I bend over to view the reason for his conclusion. I count four MRE wrappers on the floor of this shelter. I grab one to find it had only been partially eaten. I smell and squeeze the bitten remains to find it’s fresh and still soft. This under area is also fairly clean of dust compared to the surrounding floor. I agree with Gary’s conclusion. “Yep, someone or some bodies were here recently.” A spark of hope fills me as we continue to finish checking the rest of the building.

  We end up in the main foyer as I think this is where dozens of customers once stood. Now all I see are dirty broken windows, and tumbling twines of dust. I wonder how many anniversary bouquets were sold here, how many Valentine roses were given to lovers, and how many wreaths were made for funerals. I stare through the broken windows at the wooden “Gardener Mill Florist” sign still hanging-half cocked. One chain now holds it as it twist to the sound of a churning chain. It was probably the prettiest crafted sign I ever saw; at one time and long ago.

  I look for footprints, but only find waves of fresh driven dust on the floor. I find I am now able to breathe again. The outside breeze sucks out the repugnant air as it swirls in the fresh acidy stench. I see the main door is partially open. Maybe it’s because Moses and the bunch had to leave in a hurry, or it was just left that way by a distant looter. Our next stop will have to be the “old department store.” “Come on Gary, we’re wasting light.” We join at the doorway and step out together.

  We stop just outside to give a quick look around. This side of the property only has one crater. But, it looks humungous. I can see it is near the “old department store,” about a quarter mile away. I also see what looks like half a jet

  sticking out of the bushes up ahead, and off to the left. I tell

  Gary, “Something isn’t right,” and warn him to stay close to me.

  We detour slightly to check the fuselage, and maybe figure out the reason the jet was destroyed. This could prove to be very important. As we draw nearer to it, I see many different size and erratically placed holes. I wonder what kind of enemy of theirs would have the power to do this. My mind recalls the militias forming back east. I reason, “Is it possible they somehow did this?” I stare further at the holes to see what kind of weapon could have taken a fast moving jet down. The erratic pattern in the jet’s skin rules out the linear pattern machinegun fire would have produced.

  We make it to the downed jet as I begin to notice the holes intrude from the topside inwards. The metal seems to be punched down into the jet, proving these holes came from a higher source. This suggests the attacker must have been airborne, and even higher than this jet’s altitude. I grab a handhold on its top portion, and then pull myself up for a closer look. I wonder what might have happened to the rest of the fuselage. I take a quick look around the perimeter to see if I can identify where it is. I don’t see a thing except that the ground looks to be free of any craters. I store this new knowledge under the category of “that’s odd.”

  I return to checking the perforations in the fuselage. So far, meteors would be the best candidate for the holes, because of the various sizes and erratic patterns. I look for remnants of rock on the jet’s skin, but I can’t find any.

  I decide to investigate further, so I slide down and enter through the broken section of the fuselage. I am unexpectedly overtaken with JP5 (jet fuel) vapor and hold my breath. I search quickly, but find no meteorite fragments of any kind. I do see exit holes suggesting whatever destroyed this jet, packed enough power to completely shoot through it. I also see the stretched metal skin around the holes above me pointing inwards. I hurry back outside and move away. I take

  a gulp of sustainable fresh air, and then take one more look at

  the jet’s breakpoint. It is a perfect clean break. This is also a candidate for the “that’s odd” folder, and file it under “weird.”

  I ded
uct the most likely reason for the holes are from an explosion that must have come from somewhere above the jet in flight. I am still not sure what penetrated the skin. There should be at least rock slithers inside; even if the majority passed right through. Also, the entry points equal the exit points. If I draw a line connecting the two, it would be straight. This proves that either: the jet was not moving, or the penetrating debris was moving faster than the jet. I also figure the holes could not be from the meteor shower without some signs of meteor remnants inside the fuselage. The metal would have surely cut at least a few slithers of the rock away. And, the holes could not have occurred after it crashed, unless there were small craters around the crash site. As for the breakpoint; that section looks like it was sliced in half. The breakpoint should display jagged stress marks on the skin of the jet. This would look sort of like a “Shark bite” pattern. But, it is perfectly straight up and down, and “clean as a whistle.” The cut also had to be faster than the jet was traveling, or the slice would be diagonal. Yes, it was somehow sliced straight through, and all at once, while traveling at a high rate of speed. That is why the other half of the jet is not anywhere near here. It could have veered in another direction, or just kept going several more miles. My last question is: why hasn’t the Guard been here to claim the remains? I don’t even see any signs they’ve been to its viewing. I conclude that I have no idea what downed this jet. I do know something happened to it that I must have never seen before.

  “Let’s go Gary,” I command. Gary finishes circling the jet and wants to know what happened to make it crash. We move out as I reason the best answer to tell him is, “It ran out of gas.” Gary tells me, “You’re crazy.” I laugh at him and continue towards the store. Gary shakes his head side to side

  mumbling something that makes him laugh. I have this idea

  that he’s not thinking of giving me a compliment. I figure humor is a soldiers best weapon.

  I see the afternoon light is turning orange. I peel the Velcro cover to see we have only about half an hour till full sunset. I want to hurry along pass all this debris before it gets too dark. I don’t want us to trip into, or on anything and get hurt. We’d really be bait for the LD then. I figure I’ll time our arrival to the edge of the property just as it is getting dark. We move steadily and quietly through the smoky remains the rest of the way.

  I look for any signs along the way that would tell me Moses might have been this way. The frustrating noxious haze is making it hard to see though. I again pull my undershirt up and over my nose to keep some of it out. I notice Gary doing the same as we struggle along. The elevation starts to change as we begin walking on the circumference of the large crater between the “old mill” and the store. I can’t find anything saying Moses was here.

  We travel around the top of the oval mound caused by what seems to be a huge meteorite impact. This gives us a chance to look inside the deep depression. I measure it to be three to four hundred feet across and five to six hundred feet in length. I try and keep my balance while walking as we view inside the eighty foot deep hole. The dust clouds of thick and thin vapor floating near the bottom causes me to strain my eyes. I am astonished at what I think I see at its bottom.

  Chapter 8: Mighty Hand of God

  I once saw a picture of a Chinese terracotta army buried for thousands of years. The bottom of this pit looks remarkably similar. I now realize the New California Guard was here. But, it rest at the bottom of this ravine. Unlike the terracotta army, this one looks like a giant hand smashed it into the ground all at once. Between the clearing clouds in the pit I am able to indentify separate formations of different military units. I’ve seen this type of battle formation before. It looks to be about a battalion in strength buried at the bottom. Whatever happened to them was so sudden it buried these soldiers in formation, and with no chance of retreat. No one had time to evade the instantaneous attack. I see shattered weapons of all sorts. There are torn limbs still holding their weapons, and small black abyss where their bodies probably once stood. I wonder if they were pushed straight down to Hell. We make it to the end of the impact crater, and I see a soldier’s squashed helmet, and part of a rifle lying on the ground. I can only imagine the imposing pressure must have just snapped the remains over here; like playing a game of “tiddlywinks.” The helmet displays a stretched “Trinity” brand and part of the New California Insignia. I stick the fragment of rifle in the ground and hang the helmet on it. My heart commands me to say a soldier’s prayer as we depart. I hear the flag of the flat helmet swaying in the wind as I silently pray, “May God have mercy on all these sorry souls!”

  The sound of the helmet rubbing gradually grows dimmer as we near the edge of the store’s property line. I see virtually every tree and foliage here has been consumed by various deaths. Some look as if they shriveled up slowly, dying over time. Their trunks are like old men covered with wrinkles of worry. Others are burnt warriors from a more recent battle. And, some became instantaneous casualties that were smashed to pieces. This seems to be the perfect poster child for those opposing war.

  I see a good cover spot against a fallen tree. I lean over to pull some of its broken braches away, and then sit with my back resting up against its trunk. The sun has set and we wait for the complete cover of darkness. We sit patiently and plan our next move.

  I try and concentrate on the next plan of action, but my mind fights me for some urgent answers. The first has to do with the meteor storm occurring seemingly at the same instant I was to be devoured by the LD. The second is: what caused the catastrophe in the first place? Moreover, why did it happen at that precise moment? Was that what scared the LD away, or was it something I’m just not aware of-yet?

  I pop my head up and scope the clearing between us and the store. Everything looks pretty silent. I hear Gary rearranging the bulge in his pockets preventing him from sitting comfortably. I try to imagine what he shoved into them earlier, as I recheck the surrounding forest for movement. I return to my sitting position and ask Gary, “What the heck is in your pockets?” He pulls out a handful of glow sticks from one pocket. There must be about seven or eight in his hand. I think of a reason he’d bring them, as my mind again ponders other questions posed to me today.

  What is bothering me most is what caused the crater that killed the army. A meteor should have obliterated any evidence of their existence. The sheer heat from the impact would have turned the sand to obsidian, or glass, while frying everything inside the crater. I plainly saw structures intact that prove a meteorite couldn’t have caused it. And, the jet’s destruction still plagues me as well.

  I swipe these questions off with the brush of patience, thinking time will eventually answer them all. I have a feeling the answers will be found somewhere in the supernatural. My main concern now is how we’ll get under the store’s holy umbrella of protection. If ever we face an LD assault it will definitely be between the edge of this clearing and shortly before the store. I know there are demonic eyes close by. They

  would like nothing more than to capture an Irreverent under the nose of God. I can feel them lurking. The darkness is quickly descending and reveals to me a possible solution.

  I jokingly whisper to Gary if he might have some string in his other pocket. I need some for the diversion plan I’m thinking of. I am surprised by his answer; “Kind of.” He fumbles in his pocket filled with stuff and hands me a small roll of “baling wire.” I tell him, “Perfect, this may help buy us the time we’re going to need.” This stuff has tons of uses. It is what farmers wrap around bales of hay. It’s also the preferred tool of ranchers, because it bends and twists so easily, but it’s really strong stuff. We even used this wire in my old military unit to set almost invisible traps for our enemies. I ask him what possessed him to bring it along. He just shrugs his shoulders. I commend him, because it’s just what I need for my diversion.

  “Gary, open the glow sticks foil packets and hand them to me one at a time.” I then tell him,
“But, don’t break any and active them.” I uncoil a section of wire that seems to be about a hundred feet long, and then slide it through the first stick’s retaining device. I move about ten feet along the wire and twist the wire locking the stick in place. I then lay it down and roll off another ten foot section repeating the procedure. After twisting them all on the wire, which actual totals nine glow sticks, I adjust the coil so it loosely overlaps one stick on top the other. I slightly twist one loose end of the wire to the tree trunk that we’re leaning against. I twist the other end tightly on my belt and between my jeans’s. The diversion plan is now ready to activate.

  I tell Gary what we’re going to attempt. My goal is to attract any enemy away from us and towards the bait. Hopefully, they’ll bite and give us just enough time to get the store. I figure we have 300 yards to run to safety. I proceed by telling Gary, “I want you to slowly and quietly move a hundred feet to my left and take cover. When I’m ready, I’ll

  give you a whistle. When I do, I want you to run as fast as you

  can towards the store’s entrance. Don’t stop no matter what happens.” I ask Gary if he understands. He nods, “Yes,” as I prepare to pray godly protection over us. I pat his head and signal him to move out. He meticulously dances over the debris while disappearing into the dark.

  I didn’t tell Gary that I’ll be his first line of defense. I pray the darkness will trick the enemy into believing there is a bunch of Irreverent running behind me. The line of lighted glow sticks is supposed to resemble a single file of Irreverent dashing to safety. Hopefully, they’ll be preoccupied with the line, but I should be the main course before Gary is.