Meteor

by Brad Knight

  “Yea, just pissed off and confused.”

  “Confused?”

  “What’s his angle? How will we ever get rid of him now that he’s in our home?” Troy did not mention the bit of information he had found out earlier, that the radiation is actually higher inside the bunker than out. He would share that later, once he had a plan.

  “I don’t know. But we are not going to act like savages. People like Caleb have an excuse, life has been much harder for them these past few months. We’ve had it relatively easy. Wow, I would never expect to say that living in a five-hundred square foot bunker and having my son shot was ‘easy’ but it’s true I guess. We’ve been lucky, thanks to you.”

  Troy indulged in a small grin at this compliment.

  “Maybe he’s really nice, Dad,” Cordelia said from her seat on the couch.

  “Yeah, I don’t think he wants to hurt us,” Brandon agreed.

  The family spent the next ten minutes trying to behave normally, or at least as normally as they had since entering the bunker. Cordelia and Hannah played poker with some questionable rule changes while Brandon listened to his headphones and doodled on a page of notebook paper. Troy and Mary sat at the kitchen table, hands intertwined in an ever-increasing display of affection.

  “It’s done now, we’ll see how it turns out I guess,” Troy said.

  Mary gave his hand a squeeze in agreement and rose from the table just as Caleb’s head peeked out from the top of the stairs. He looked like a different person.

  “Hope you don’t mind. I borrowed someone’s razor.”

  His hairless face now showed the extent of his injuries. He looked as if he had been caught outside in a downpour with his face turned up to the sky. Raw pink wounds dotted his face. In different stages of healing, the range of colors on the upper portion of his face made him almost appear pixelated.

  He also looked much younger now that he was washed and combed and free of that ragged beard. He wore only a towel around his waist which provided a painful view of his thin chest and stomach. Visible ribs and sharp collar bones spoke to how long this man had been without adequate food.

  Hastily, Mary rifled through the laundry piled behind her and produced a clean pair of boxers and a plain white t-shirt.

  “Here, put these on, but leave the shirt off and come back down. I’ll wash your clothes and put medicine on all your cuts.”

  Caleb nodded. He took the clothes from her hands and disappeared up the stairs once again.

  Troy truly had thought of everything. Mary pulled down the first aid kit and for the hundredth time admired her husband’s forethought and preparedness. An unopened box of latex gloves lay nestled in one corner of the box and Mary felt faint with relief. She was not looking forward to touching those open sores with her bare hands and now she wouldn’t have to. She lined up antibacterial wipes, antibacterial cream, and a variety of bandages. Caleb took a seat in front of her at the table and Mary set to work.

  “How old are you, Caleb?” Troy asked from his seat nearby.

  “I’m twenty.”

  “I’m also really sorry I had to shoot at you,” Caleb said. His dark blue eyes looked directly into Troy’s as he said this. “I didn’t know what else to do. I didn’t have much before and I have nothing now. I don’t have any family around here.” He sucked a breath in between his teeth as Mary squeezed antiseptic liquid over a deep puncture on his shoulder. It ran down his arm in a pink river, hopefully sluicing away all the germs.

  Mary held a towel up to catch it before it dripped on the floor. She gently patted the wound dry and taped a thick pad of gauze over it. She continued likewise with all the other lesions on his body, taking special care with his mangled hands. There was little to do for them save bind them entirely with clean cloth until the skin began to grow back. She coated the worst spots with antibiotic gel and hoped for the best. An infection could be lethal the way things were going since the meteor.

  “You did what you had to do, just like all of us have been doing. I’m just glad you didn’t hit me. You’re a terrible shot, son.”

  Cordelia and Hannah were shamelessly staring at the strange young man. Cordelia was shocked at her father’s acceptance of the apology. Maybe things were looking up.

  Chapter 13

  “Have you guys felt the tremors?” Caleb asked.

  “Huh?” Mary stopped wrestling with the manual can opener lodged in an industrial-sized can of peaches. She looked at Caleb and wait for him to say more.

  “Yea, I noticed them a few days ago. I’ve never felt an earthquake. I mean, I’ve lived in Tennessee my whole life so… but yea, I guess maybe y’all wouldn’t notice being inside here and all but something’s happening. The ground shakes at least a couple times a day.”

  “Hmm. Something else to worry about, I guess. Troy, turn on the T.V., let’s see if the news is reporting about earthquakes.”

  For days the family had left the T.V. off and silent. All it seemed to show was death and destruction. No real rebuilding had taken place yet because resources were so thin. The camera routinely panned across desolate acres of burnt land showing scraggly trees rent and twisted by flames, wind, and lightning.

  Watching any news report filmed outside in the early days of the meteor strike was like watching a 3-D movie, various items whipped toward the camera and looked as though they were about to fly right out of the screen, making every viewer flinch. But now the news was like the saddest movie ever made.

  Once beautiful green hills were reduced to charred dirt while piles of garbage and other organic debris lay in scattered heaps about the landscape. It was depressing so the family had agreed to leave it alone for a little while. But this claim of Caleb’s had everyone intrigued. Troy walked over and flipped on the little television, taking a nostalgic joy in adjusting the metal rabbit ears on top to clear a picture.

  When the static cleared it showed local news-anchor, Sharon Barnes seated in a semi-lit studio and dressed impeccably in a light pink business suit. Every hair was in place, and it looked just like every other newscast from before the meteor struck. Some parts of the world were carrying on. The only telltale sign of the semi-apocalypse in which everyone was living was visible on the screens behind Sharon’s head.

  “Oh my God,” Hannah whispered.

  Mary let out a small gasp as she took in the sight. The screen showed another local reporter, Frank somebody, out in a neighborhood somewhere west of the bunker. Only it was no longer exactly a neighborhood. An enormous sinkhole had swallowed the majority of the homes along the tree-lined street, creating a pile of lumber, shingles, broken glass, and tree limbs deep in the earth.

  “I’m here looking at what is left of Creekview Avenue, Sharon.” Frank’s voice intoned from the television speaker. “Following yesterday’s seemingly minor earthquake, a crack nearly a mile long opened and sometime in the night broke apart, leaving a hole that looks to be hundreds of feet deep. Sharon, the scene here is serious. First responders have been rappelling into the sinkhole to rescue any survivors. We believe that many people evacuated their homes late last night as the danger became evident. We’ve spoken to many residents and our best guess right now is that eighty-nine residents are unaccounted for at this time. Local fire and rescue teams will continue their efforts to retrieve people from the rubble. We will keep you updated. For Fox 12 News, I’m Frank Wellborn, back to you in the studio, Sharon.”

  Troy changed the channel to CNN.

  “It is just science, Gordon. As this massive meteor melts, large chunks will break off and tumble around inside the impact site, and since the impact was so deep and widespread this has the potential to seriously damage tectonic plates deep within the earth’s surface. The danger and damage is certainly not over, Gordon. We’ve already seen the effects of this in the recent earthquakes in Africa, Asia, and the Americas. Reports of huge fissures and even sinkholes are coming in everyday. Entire neighborhoods are being swallowed up and truthfully, until the meteor has
completely melted and dissipated, everyone remains at risk. We fully expect more reports of violent earthquakes and corresponding foundational damage”

  “Thank you, Dr. Rhodes for that informative message. Are there any precautions our viewers can take to protect themselves?”

  “At this time we are encouraging people to take every local warning seriously. If you feel an earthquake, even a slight tremor, initiate your emergency plan. At this point we don’t know whether it is safer to remain indoors as with a typical earthquake or if evacuation to an outdoor location is best. Use your judgment.”

  “Dad, that first neighborhood is just a few miles from our house,” Brandon said, fear painted on his face. When Troy looked at his son he was struck by how young he appeared all of a sudden. Love for his family twisted his heart as this new threat sunk in. And with the amount of worry lining his pallid face, Troy he knew he looked as ancient as he felt.

  “Yes.”

  Running a hand through his hair and letting out his held breath, Troy sat down heavily onto the couch, letting his head hang almost between his knees. Cordelia scooted closer to him and laid her head gently on his shoulder.

  “Can’t stay here and can’t go home,” Troy said in a desolate voice.

  As if on cue, the little metal gauge initiated its warning sequence and Troy watched with dispassionate eyes as it broke open and voiced its warning of imminent doom. Carbon Monoxide levels had climbed by three tenths of a percent, which wasn’t much but had edged them into the “moderate risk” category according to the device.

  “Oh, shut up,” he said. Troy would allow himself the evening to wring his hands and gnash his teeth but by morning, there would be a plan.

  Chapter 14

  It was time to go. As Troy sat, his hands twirling his half-empty coffee cup, he had made his mind up. Being inside the bunker had taken a serious toll on everyone and now that the safety of the place had been compromised, there was no longer the need to tolerate such close quarters.

  Another trip outside, this time armed with both an evil-looking hunting knife and a rifle, had proven that radiation levels outside were decreasing while inside they were still rising. Mary had recently begun to complain of blinding headaches. Everyone’s nerves were on edge after the dismal news last night.

  “Hey Caleb? Brandon?” Troy called up the stairs, where the boys were sharing Brandon’s headphones to listen to a shared favorite band and using the last pack of batteries in doing so. Both young men joined Troy in the kitchen and waited for him to speak. There was an air of expectation in the bunker.

  Troy had lain awake for most of the night, staring up at the ceiling while Mary snored softly next to him. She had tried her best to soothe him before falling asleep, running her hands over his still-flat stomach and offering to do more while kissing his neck.

  He couldn’t focus on her attentions and just held her tight for a few minutes before giving her a pained look and turning away. She had pulled the covers up as Troy made a mental pro-con list in the dark.

  “We can’t stay here much longer,” Troy said to the anxious faces before him. “It’s time for Plan B. About twelve miles from here there is hunting land with a few cabins scattered around. I think I can find at least one of them. I’ve hunted out there with Ken a couple times. Dress warm and bring the gas masks just in case. We’re going on an expedition to find a new home.”

  Half an hour later, all three men were ready to leave. When they said their goodbyes at the metal door of the bunker, they looked like a normal family just leaving for a day of leisure, maybe playing basketball or hunting deer. The only giveaway that these were not ordinary times was the ominous black plastic mask dangling from each man’s fingers.

  Just minutes before they left, Caleb had asked Mary to unwrap his hands and replace the bandages with smaller band-aids, claiming he couldn’t defend himself with the huge boxing mitts she had given him. She reluctantly fulfilled the request, telling him to be careful and fretting over all the gunk he was going to pick up while they were out. His wounds turned Mary’s stomach even after a few days of healing. It was the exposed tendon on his left hand that was worst. She tried to suppress a shudder as she pressed the adhesive bandage down to cover the raw skin.

  “Please be careful,” Mary said, hugging Troy tight to her chest. There was nothing else left to say. She had already voiced all of her protests to Troy and been quieted with his calm reasoning. She knew they couldn’t stay here and most likely wouldn’t be safe at their old house. It seemed, though, like she had never lived anywhere but the bunker. She tapped her foot against the floor nervously as he hugged Cordelia and even Hannah; she had certainly become part of the family now. Troy nodded and slung his rifle over his shoulder.

  “Love you guys. We’ll be back before dark,” he said.

  Mary slammed the door shut after they walked out and twisted her wedding ring in relentless circles around her thin finger.

  The stolen pick-up had half a tank of gas, plenty to get them to the dirt road leading to the gated hunting grounds and back. Troy warned the guys that they might have to hike into the woods a couple of miles if the gate was locked. He remembered with a smile the day Ken forgot the key and they had to trudge uphill in ankle deep mud after three solid days of rain.

  A pang of regret hit Troy as he thought about how he had refused Ken any help a few months ago. Things change, he told himself, shaking off the sadness. Mud would not be a problem today. The acid rain that had fallen the first few weeks after the meteor crash was now nonexistent. Its effects could be seen in the dry withered brush lining the road however.

  Under the distilled sun, the colors of the world had been leeched out. The asphalt disappearing beneath the truck’s tires remained whole and smooth. As the miles passed behind them, Troy found himself meditating on this one remaining perfection in the world. It seemed to be a remnant of a forgotten civilization. The rough black tree trunks and crunchy brown grass that lines the road told a more complete story of the meteor’s impact on this area of the world. Desolation was the backdrop for Troy and his party’s excursion.

  The truck bumped to a stop in front of a large, metal gate. Driving around would be impossible, as trees and vegetation grew in close to the edge of the gate, and two lengths of barbed wire fencing unspooled between rough hewn posts as far as he could see in either direction. “No Trespassing” signs were posted every few feet along those sharp wires. Low limbs scratched at the roof of the truck’s cab as Troy shifted to park and cut the engine.

  Before leaving to scout out a new location to settle, Troy had plundered through his garage and selected a large pair of bolt cutters to take with them. He now pulled them from the bed of the truck and gave them an experimental snap. Months without use had dulled their blades but he was fairly sure they could still cut through a basic lock.

  All three men approached the closed gate and kept a wary eye out for any movement in the trees. Brandon appeared particularly jumpy this morning. Troy gave him a questioning look and said, “What’s wrong, bud?”

  “I’m just thinking about mom, Cordelia and Hannah. I hope nothing happens to them while we’re gone.”

  “They’ll be fine. The door is locked and they have the incinerator if anyone tries to get in.”

  ‘I know. I just feel bad for Hannah. She was crying last night and told me she’s so scared. She misses her family so bad. She was really crying hard too, Dad. I patted her back but it didn’t help.”

  “All you can do is be a good friend, son. Girls like it when you just listen. Sounds like you did your best. She’ll be fine. She’s smart and strong. Like you and Cordelia,” Troy reassured his son. He hefted the bolt cutter to his shoulder. “Come on, let’s get this show on the road. The longer we stand around talking the worse the air in the bunker gets.”

  “Do you think they’re all right for real?”

  “I do, Brandon. But we need to get on with this so we can get back to them. I don’t like them being alo
ne any more than you do.” He turned from his son.

  The first definite sign of extra trouble was the bear trap. Expertly camouflaged in the tall brush growing around the base of the gate, it was someone’s idea of an enemy deterrent. Troy had only just dropped the bolt cutter to swing by his side when the handle sprung the trap and sacrificed the lower third of one of its thick wooden grips. The metallic clang was loud in the hushed forest, even dampened by the thick grass as it was.

  The impact caused Troy to lose his grip on the tool and it landed with a small thud on the hard-packed ground. He jumped back, startled and took three stumbling steps to right himself.

  “Glad that wasn’t my leg,” Troy joked weakly, releasing a quick breath and bending over with his hands on his knees.

  He examined the bear trap closely. It was a doozy. Spiked with iron claws at least four inches long it looked to have enough force to indeed fracture a man’s tibia. Troy briefly considered tossing it into the truck bed for later use but then remembered the point of their trip. If things went well, the plot of land on which they stood would become their new home and the bear trap might be useful right where it lay. It had certainly almost proved effective at keeping him from opening the gate. So Troy left it and turned his attention back to the locked gate, stepping lightly over the ground now, searching for any other signs of sabotage.

  Caleb and Brandon had both gone pale at the harsh snicking sound of the trap and now stood looking at Troy as he continued to the gate. Brandon was the first to follow and by the time he reached his father’s back, Troy had dispatched both heavy duty locks securing the hunting land. They were in.

  Driving slowly down the dusty and rutted road, Troy felt the first tingles that something was not quite right as they passed a desiccated corpse lying on the ground. A freezing wind blew grit against the side of the truck, making a rasping sound that grated on Troy’s already frayed nerves.