Meteor

by Brad Knight

  “What’s the point of this?” Troy asked. To his credit, he continued to follow Randall down the broken road though his steps were much slower than the older man’s. He was hesitant to leave, though he could not figure out why. It wasn’t like the house would miraculously rise from the crater, whole and inhabitable as badly as Troy wished this to be the case. He cast one glance back over his shoulder as Randall answered his question. “Well, from here, it looks like some of the houses over on Corcoran Street were untouched. See that green roof? My friend, Alan lives there. I’m going to go see if he’s okay.”

  Troy and his family did not know Alan, but tagging along still seemed like the best idea they were likely to have, so onward they went. There were many patches in the road where the cracks were several feet deep. He cautioned everyone to watch their step as they walked.

  The jagged edges of asphalt and concrete rose up like broken spines, pieces crumbling as they stepped gingerly across them. The emptiness of the formerly bustling street filled Troy with more melancholy than he had yet experienced. He cursed himself for moving out of the bunker so quickly.

  The bunker.

  He turned on his heels and without a word of warning took off at a sprint back in the direction of the house.

  “Troy! What on earth are you doing?” Mary yelled at his disappearing back.

  Caleb and Brandon looked at each other with twin expressions of confusion and dismay. Randall stopped just long enough to register that they had lost one of their party then turned and continued his trudge toward his friend’s house. No one else knew exactly what to do.

  Mary was torn between loyalty to her husband and the deep desire to find shelter before the next nightfall. Surely Troy can’t be considering moving back into the bunker, she thought to herself. She nibbled on a ragged cuticle and muttered, “Shit” under her breath before turning to follow Troy.

  When they caught up with him he was simply standing guard at the open hole of the front door of the bunker. Mary quirked an eyebrow at him and waited for an explanation.

  “This building, useless though it may be, contains all of our earthly belongings. I don’t plan to lose those too. You guys go ahead and go with Randall while I load all this up somehow.”

  “Load it up for what? To take it where, Troy? We may have to move back into this burnt out hole of yours.” Tears overtook Mary then and her words faltered. She put her hands over her face to wipe her tears away before looking up at the unforgiving grey sky and letting out a shriek of frustration so piercing that Troy and the others had to look away. Troy just barely resisted the urge to plug his ears with his fingers.

  “Well, maybe we will. Do you have a better plan? I did at one point, and that plan was move back into our house, you know the one that’s now in fourteen thousand pieces in that damn deep hole over there? So, now what? Anybody?” Troy shouted over his wife’s sobs. His face was turning red, a combination of the cold air blowing by and his rising blood pressure.

  “Fine, stay here, you idiot. We’re going to see who is still alive and okay. Stay here all by your miserable self.” Mary turned back toward the street and with a hand to the small of their backs ushered her children along with her. Brandon went willingly enough but Cordelia stopped and pulled away.

  “I’ll stay too. I’ll help, Dad,” she said and put both arms around Troy’s midsection, ducking under his arm to look at her mother. A small portion of Mary’s anger seemed to dissipate then and she sighed. “Fine, Cordelia. We’ll be back in a few minutes.” With that they took off in the direction of Corcoran Street.

  Randall had already arrived once they caught up with him. He stood talking with another man who looked to be in his early sixties on the front lawn of a huge house. No damage was visible from the outside though, and as they approached Mary caught the tail end of his description of the interior.

  “…most of the dishes are broken, a few light fixtures crashed down, and of course all the furniture is upside down all over the place but we got lucky, looks like.” The man’s cool blue eyes traveled over the group as they approached the yard uncertainly.

  “Hi, Mary,” Randall said. “Troy decided not to join us?”

  Mary shook her head and tried a small smile. “He’s lording over the bunker. We have nothing left, Randall, but he seems to think we do so he’s guarding it with Cordelia.”

  “Alan, this is Mary and…” he of course didn’t recognize Caleb and would have no reason to know Brandon’s name. They weren’t close friends with Randall, simply people who lived on the same street and passed each other on the way to work some mornings.

  “This is Brandon, my son, and Hannah and Caleb. They came to stay with us when things got bad.” She didn’t offer more explanation than this as she couldn’t find the words to sum up what all they had been through. None was needed; Alan and Randall both nodded and gave them kind smiles.

  “So you’ve just been in your house this whole time?” Mary asked.

  A flicker of some emotion Mary could only identify as regret crossed Alan’s face as he answered, “Yes.”

  “Is it just you?” Mary asked.

  “Um, yea. It’s just me nowadays. My son is in Michigan at college. A least I have to assume he’s still… there.” Randall approached the man and put a hand on his shoulder. Alan cleared his throat and continued. “My wife and I divorced a few years back, so um, yea, it’s just me now. I haven’t heard from anyone since this thing started. I just have to keep hoping that my child and wife still exist out there somewhere.”

  Mary shuffled her feet and looked away. Such naked grief made her uncomfortable when it came from strangers. More neighbors had spilled onto the street from their intact homes. Though they were dressed in decent clothes recently pulled from walk-in closets that they owned, they resembled nothing so much as refugees with nowhere to be. It was in their eyes and the slow pace of their walking. Shocked and aimless, they reached out to the friends that remained to them.

  Mary watched as their mouths move silently from across the street. She was stunned again at their bad luck. The houses here were still standing. Some were missing roof tiles and a couple did show cracks in the foundations which did not bode well for the future, but overall ten or twelve homes were still inhabitable on this side of the neighborhood.

  “Y’all want to come inside? I guess we’re safe for the moment. I can turn on the weather radio and see what they’re saying.”

  They followed Alan up the side front steps onto the porch. The remains of three potted ferns were strewn about the brick floor, their brown leaves withered and spotted. Clumps of dirt that had withstood both wind and quake littered their way as they entered the front door, Mary casting one look over her shoulder in the direction of the bunker. She would listen to the radio then go check on Troy.

  Alan’s home was immaculate. Given the circumstances this was even more impressive than it would have been if one were only considering that a male divorcee kept his home spotless. The hardwood floors gleamed even through the gloom of the dark day as though they had just been waxed. Not a speck of dust could be found on any surface save where plaster chunks had been loosened by the earthquake and fallen onto the granite countertop in the kitchen.

  Alan motioned for them to sit down at the kitchen table or at one of the four bar stools nearby. A small silver radio sat on the end of the counter and Alan clicked it on. The orchestral music common to the opening of a news segment was playing, and then a strong male voice intoned, “More reports are coming in of worldwide disaster. Scientists predicted this and it has come to pass. Massive earthquakes have ripped through many countries and wrecked the infrastructure as well as causing as yet uncountable deaths. China, Japan, Australia, and many African countries seem to have been most affected though serious damage has occurred in the United States as well. Scientists are now telling us that the worst is over, that the largest part of the melting has taken place and hopefully the earth’s plates have settled into their new locations
.”

  “I have a feeling he’s right, somehow,” Mary said. “I just think the worst possible thing has happened and things have to get better now.”

  “Might just be wishful thinking, Mom,” Brandon said in a glum voice. He had been fidgeting since they walked in the door and now he hopped up from his seat to pace the kitchen. He was so much like his father, it made Mary laugh to look at him sometimes. She leaned forward in her chair and rounded her back in a long stretch.

  “Stay positive, Brandon. The only thing that can happen now is one of us is swallowed up in the ground.” Mary didn’t like the sarcastic tone in her voice but her stress level was astronomical and she found herself unable to speak normally in response to her son’s negativity. Everyone in the kitchen looked at her except Randall; he was still transfixed by the news report. She sighed.

  “I’m sorry, son. I just don’t know what else to say.” Brandon stopped pacing and looked at her. “Just be realistic, Mom. We’re probably all going to die. I’m surprised we haven’t already.” He stalked out of the room and back toward the front door. She heard the door slam and watched him walk away down the street. Hannah stood up at once and followed him.

  “I bet he’s going back to the bunker. I’ll just go with him.” She looked in Mary’s direction but never quite met her eyes. “What will we do tonight? Sleep in the shelter?” Mary could only shrug.

  “I don’t know, Hannah.”

  Alan rose from his bar stool then and made the offer Mary had been hoping for since they followed him into the house. “Your family is welcome to stay here. I have four bedrooms and two couches. I don’t have much food and of course, the water isn’t working anywhere but… we can figure that out later I guess. I just… I know I don’t know you, well anyone except you, Randall, but my Christian beliefs tell me I must share what I have. I would love to have someone here to talk to other than my boring old self.”

  Alan struck Mary as one who was so unaccustomed to the daily interaction of other adults that his emotions poured forth quite without him meaning them to. She took some pity on him in that moment. More pity than she had even taken for her own situation and that of her family. She decided on the spot to take Alan up on his generous offer.

  “Thank you. You are too kind. We would be so grateful if you let us stay here tonight.”

  “You can stay longer than that.”

  Mary smiled at him as shining tears filled her eyes. “I have to go get Troy. I think he’s having a slight mental breakdown. We’ll be back.”

  Caleb, who had been quiet and lost in thought throughout this encounter, stood and shook Alan and Randall’s hands. He then took Mary gently by the elbow and together they headed toward the bunker.

  Chapter 21

  When they arrived they found Troy seated cross-legged on the living room rug, looking intently at the floor. Three small crates of belongings sat on his left. The rest of the bunker was empty save for the smoke stained couch and chairs. Cordelia came downstairs carrying a towel, a hairbrush, and a few pairs of socks balled up in her hand.

  “This is it, Dad. Upstairs is empty except for the sheets on our beds. Oh-hi, Mom. Hi, Caleb.”

  Cordelia threw her handful of items into the closest crate and wiped her hands on her jeans. Mary smiled at her as she settled herself next to Troy on the floor. Something unspoken passed between them. The current apocalypse seemed to have improved this ability as it took the necessity of words away and replaced it with bare emotion. Mary laid her head on Troy’s shoulder.

  “It’s okay,” she said. “There is nothing you could have done to protect us any better than you have. Things out of our control just happened, honey. We have been so much better off than most of the rest of the world, and it’s because of you.”

  Mary felt her husband breath in deeply before he replied. “Thank you for saying that.”

  The air still smelled heavily of smoke and there was a new dampness inside since the flood had elevated the creek. Water had seeped in through unseen cracks and placed the final nail in the bunker’s coffin. Having nowhere to go was a new sensation for Troy and he just sat and tried to accept their new situation.

  “Randall’s friend said we can stay at his house. It’s beautiful there, huge. Room for us all. We can take these few things with us.” She lifted and replaced various items from the crates near her. There were a few packs of peanut butter crackers, somewhere around fifteen cans of fruits and vegetables, all economy sized, and two boxes of instant coffee. Meager rations surely but they were better than nothing.

  A memory hit Mary as she examined these items. Dinner parties from her old life swam into view inside her head; she tried to not remember that those dinner parties included Stephen. What she saw clearly in her mind’s eye was her standing in a clean, even foyer giving the hostess a bottle of expensive wine or a bouquet of flowers. Gifts exclusive to civilization. Now, cheap crackers and vats of fruits swimming in artificial syrup would have to suffice as a thank you gift. Another of her crazy giggles escaped her lips before she could stop herself. Troy tilted his head in her direction though they were so close he couldn’t see her face.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “Yes, just thinking about everything. Laugh to keep from crying, you know.” She felt him nod against her head.

  Moving into Alan’s house was a much simpler affair than moving back into their house had been only a few days before. Three crates comprised the remainder of their belongings. In addition to the foods they had gathered they had also added a few articles of clothing, mostly socks and underwear and a few kitchen items not ruined by smoke. Everything else had sunk with the house.

  Alan’s house lay less than a mile from the bunker but the cans made the largest crate heavy. Troy removed his belt and wrapped it around the crate in order to pull it like a sledge. It whispered through the grass as they walked back to Alan’s. Brandon shuffled one other crate from hip to hip as they walked and Mary had the final crate dangling from two fingers as light as it was, laden only with clothes. The trip took less than ten minutes. Troy marveled on the walk there at a person showing such kindness. This man who didn’t know them from anyone was allowing six strangers to move into his home.

  The awkward feeling lasted only as long as they stood in the doorway holding their belongings. Randall and Alan answered the door together and took the crates from them. Troy looked up at the two story foyer and peered around Alan at the kitchen.

  A pang of loss and longing for his own home went down his spine but he withheld any reaction he might have shown and instead reached out to shake Alan’s hand. Something about the strength he felt in the man’s fingers brought long-suppressed emotions to the surface and without warning he was gathering Alan into a tight embrace and his tears were falling.

  The men hugged for a long moment, Alan unashamedly patting Troy on the back. When he released Alan, Troy stood a little taller, as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He had held things together for so long it was a welcome relief to allow someone else to provide the answers to the hard questions.

  Alan showed everyone to their rooms. Mary hadn’t exaggerated when she described the house as huge. Four bedrooms upstairs, all fully furnished. The children chose to continue sharing a space. Despite the challenges of this new, dark world, some relationships had visibly flourished. Brandon and Hannah were all but inseparable. In typical big sister fashion, Cordelia teased them frequently about it but neither seemed disturbed by her words. People clung to what they could now.

  As the deeper darkness of evening fell over the house, no more tremors were felt. The reporters on the radio sounded more hopeful than they had in months, stating again and again that the worst appeared to be over. Environmental experts had been conducting air quality assessments in the weeks before the earthquakes began and had gathered encouraging data. Less debris and higher quality air were becoming evident in many areas around the globe.

  A skeptical kind of hope settled over
the new family and friends as they tucked into their dinner, blackeyed peas and macaroni and cheese heated over a gas camping stove. It seemed Troy was not the only prepper on the block.

  Alan had not been able to reach Troy’s immense levels of preparedness but his stockpile was quite impressive even so. In the basement, he showed them what remained and this amounted to floor to ceiling shelves still half-stocked with non-perishable items. He had mentioned that he did not have much food but there was enough to keep the group afloat for a long while.

  Deep down Troy knew he didn’t necessarily deserve this treatment. He had turned people in need away from himself. Shame flooded through him once again as he thanked Alan for the twentieth time for his hospitality.

  Dinner was a convivial affair despite the day’s disaster. Randall invited everyone to say something wonderful about themselves as a means of introduction. To be able to laugh in the face of adversity was a wonderful thing.

  After dinner, Troy convinced Alan that they should set a guard to stay awake, and luckily he saw the wisdom in this though he had only experienced the looting of his house once since the drama began. So while Caleb sat watch, he volunteered for the first shift as always, everyone else retired to their respective rooms to settle in to sleep.

  Without consciously recognizing it, Troy fell asleep with true happiness in his heart once again.

  Chapter 22

  Troy turned over in the bed and opened one eye. Through the eastern facing window came a sight so beautiful it nearly stopped his heart. Brighter than it had been in months, the sun slowly peeked its round top above the horizon and sent rays of light through the clear, white sky.

  Troy leapt from the bed, rubbed the sleep from his eyes and flung back the curtain so he could drink in this unexpected view. He caught himself actually laying his palms against the glass as if he could touch the sunlight. But he couldn’t stop no matter how ridiculous he thought he looked. He also considered pinching himself, so surreal was the view in front of him.