Sunfall (Season 1): Episodes 1-6

by Meyer, Tim

  He gazed out the window, into the star-speckled night. Under the amber light of the street lamps, he watched lost souls beg for help from scavengers, who in turn only helped themselves. There seemed to be no better time than now for the world to learn this new way of thinking. No better time to depend on self-reliance. But why should he be the one to teach them what they seemed to be incapable of learning? And even if they could understand the knowledge he had acquired, would they even bother listening? Or would they remain stuck in their old ways, the ways of faith, turning to invisible beings resting above the clouds? Why believe in themselves when all they needed was the power of prayer and ritualistic mindsets? Time after time, they placed their hopes in the same old nonsense and political rhetoric. Blindness. That's all it was. Pure, blindness. And without the sun, who would make them see?

  The groundskeeper's smile ran from ear to ear. “Of course,” he said, rummaging through the desk drawers.

  Faith. Human beings were faith-based creatures—strongly influenced by their belief in something, or someone above them. Grabbing the book, he left the office, moving to the next one down the hall. He searched its drawers, finding nothing. Nothing in the next office either. He found himself racing down the halls, toward the library. Combing the rows, he smiled when his finger ran down the spine of the title he was searching for: The Word of the Lord.

  Slowly the groundskeeper flipped through the pages of the Holy Bible. There were many ways to pass on a lesson. Perhaps through faith he could teach them. Perhaps if he could somehow make them see his way of thinking, he could make his thoughts and beliefs their own, introducing the world to self-reliance. Maybe then, they would be better off.

  “Let there be light,” the groundskeeper said aloud.

  He closed the Bible, tucking it into the over-sized pocket on his coveralls. Strolling out of the library, he gazed at the book he had taken from Principal Reynolds's office. He ran his finger over the embroidered letters. Walden, he read.

  Funny, he thought. Same number of letters as Heaven.

  -10-

  “Everyone get back! Now!” Tina shouted.

  Carrying Sam, they pushed through the gathered survivors. At first, none of them spouted a single word. The shock and fear in their eyes did all the talking. A few rushed forward to help Sam to the nearest flat surface; others only looked on in silence.

  “Wh-what happened to him?” Kyle asked, pointing at the arrow in Sam's leg.

  Mouth shook his head. “Fuck does it look like, shit-for-brains?”

  “There were other people out there, weren't there?” another man asked.

  “Was it the cannibals? Christ, are they out there?” a woman shrieked, clutching her daughter's hand.

  A few more people joined in, rapidly firing off questions.

  “What the hell happened out there?”

  “Is everyone alright?”

  “Is it safe?”

  “God, are we safe?”

  “We're all dead here, aren't we?”

  A shot rang out above, drywall falling from the ceiling like light snow.

  “Everyone needs to take a step back, and chill the fuck out!” Tina shouted, the smoke from her revolver slowly dissipating. “There's a young woman in the car. She's hurt and she needs help. I need a few people to help her inside while we tend to Sam.”

  “A woman?” Craig asked. “Who is she?”

  “Is she one of the cannibals?” another woman asked.

  Tina shook her head. “No. She's just someone we found. Now—”

  “What do you mean you found her?” Kyle asked. “What does that mean? Was she with others? Did they follow you here?”

  “No! No one followed us! Now can we get some fucking help here? Sunrise will be here before we know it!”

  “Where's the woman?” a man asked, stepping forward from the crowd. “I'll help get her in.”

  Tina nodded, instantly calming. “Thanks, Joel. She's in the back of the car, parked out back.”

  “No sweat,” Joel replied. He tapped Craig's gut. “Come on, bub. Give me a hand.”

  Sighing reluctantly, Craig followed Joel out back. The rest of the survivors stood around, whispering to each other, trading concerns. Tina heard every single one inside her own head as if she were the one thinking them. It took everything she had to ignore them, concentrating on the task at hand.

  “How is he?” she asked.

  “Still out like a light,” Mouth said.

  Brian looked to Mouth. “Is he going to be okay?”

  “Maybe,” Mouth shrugged. “Help me get him over to the medical supplies. Let's start patching this motherfucker up.”

  Noah shook his head. “This never should have happened. We should've got our stuff and left.”

  “Easy, Noah,” Tina whispered. “We don't need anyone else freaking out.”

  He shoved his finger in her face. “Don't fucking tell me to calm down! We almost got killed out there! And for what? Some woman we don't even know? For all we know, she could be one of those cannibals!”

  Another man slowly separated himself from the onlookers. “She's right, Noah. Take it easy. Just tell us what happened out there.”

  Tina turned and found herself staring at Soren.

  “Thank the Lord you all came back in one piece,” he said. “How is Samuel?”

  “He's fine,” Tina said. “For the moment.”

  “I'll keep him in my prayers. In the meantime, the questions everyone is asking are good ones. They deserve answers.”

  “Are we still safe here?” someone asked.

  “We should look for somewhere else to go!” Chris Atkins shouted.

  “I agree!” another shouted.

  “Yeah!”

  Tina's eyebrows crawled up her forehead. “You people really want to discuss this now? Sam's seriously hurt and you want to fucking debate this shit?”

  Soren raised his hands. “No, of course not. Tina, that's not what I meant. But it's a conversation we need to have soon, I'm afraid.”

  Stepping forward, Tina stood inches from Soren's face. “Later. When Sam doesn't have a fucking arrow sticking out of his ankle.”

  He nodded. “Yes. Of course. Later. When Sam can address our concerns.”

  “Tina!” Shondra shouted, running towards them. “We need your help! Come on!”

  She waved and turned back to Soren. “Later.”

  He smiled. “Sooner than you think.”

  -11-

  Pleased with the way things had gone, Soren shut the door to his room. It was probably once an office or a small conference room, but now it was his. He strolled over to the closet where people used to hang coats or jackets when the weather called for such. It had been dirty and full of lost articles when Soren claimed it, but he had thrown most of them out, fixing it to his liking.

  He took his shirt off, hung it on a hanger next to coveralls with the name “Jimmy” stitched on the left breast. He smiled, running his finger over the patch. The uniform was covered in dirt and grime, and Soren laughed as each speck told a specific story.

  God, he hated that line of work.

  Sliding the closet door shut, he shambled over to his bed, an air mattress in the corner of the room. Yawning, he scanned the items on the bookshelf running the length of the wall. He had read most of the works several times over. There was Melville's Moby Dick, which was always a solid choice. Hawthorne's The Scarlet Letter was fresh in his mind; he had finished reading it last week, and not for the first time. His eyes stopped when they came across the Holy Bible. A grin overtook his face as he plucked it from the shelf. Without giving it any attention, not even bothering to open its pages, he tossed the whopping three-quarters of a million words into the trash next to his desk. Right where it belongs.

  He turned back to the shelf and pulled out the last book in the row. Resting on his air mattress with the book in his lap, he lit another cigarette, and began another reading of Walden, by Henry David Thoreau.

  “FAM
ILY”

  EPISODE 3

  3 MONTHS AGO

  The charred bodies flew over the windshield as the bright red convertible collided with the back end of the minivan in front of it. Other cars quickly joined the wreckage, smashing and piling into one another. With the gas pedal pressed to the floor, Sam jerked the wheel to the right, squeezing the Jeep between the narrow openings made by the surrounding wrecks and mangled vehicles. As he wove through the disorderly traffic lanes, the Jeep's rear began to fishtail. He spun the wheel in the opposite direction, but the Jeep clipped an already totaled sedan before he could fully recover.

  “Dad! Slow the fuck down!” Becky shouted from the backseat.

  Straightening the wheel, Sam's foot fell heavy on the gas, the tires screeching beneath him. “Sit back and buckle up!”

  Jenny, the woman with Sponge-Bob draped over her body, closed her eyes, wishing the roller coaster ride from Hell would soon end.

  “Look out, Dad!” Matty screamed, pointing at the pile of cars forming before their eyes. A pair of shirtless motorcyclists had fallen from their bikes, their flesh warping in the sunlight. Slowly, they fell to the asphalt, their faces no more distinguishable than the tar beneath them.

  “I see it, son,” Sam said, swerving into the left-hand lane. His maneuver was poorly timed; an audible crunching sound caught Dana's attention. She turned, peering out of the back window. The back tires had flattened one of the rider's skulls, spraying black ash and blood into the air. Turning back in her seat, she held back the contents in her stomach as long as she could before releasing it onto the floor before her.

  “What the hell, Dana!” Becky screamed, tucking her legs against her chest.

  She wiped the dribble from the corners of her lips. “I'm sorry, Dad.”

  “It's all right, sweetheart,” he said, looking at her in the rear-view mirror. “Just whatever you do, don't stick your head or anything else out the window.”

  “I want out,” Jenny muttered to herself. Sam pretended he didn't hear her.

  Dana nodded. “Can we go home?”

  “Yeah, seriously,” Becky said.

  “We definitely would be safer there than out on the parkway,” Matty chimed in, staring at the endless sea of accidents and pileups.

  “Everyone just relax,” Sam said. “We're going to be fine.”

  Becky scoffed. “Yeah right.”

  “I miss Mom,” Dana whined.

  “I'm sure she's fine,” Matty said.

  “Probably doing better than we are,” Becky grumbled.

  “I want out,” Jenny said quietly, for the second time.

  Rubbing his face, Sam silently navigated the Jeep through traffic, speeding past the slow moving cars that had yet to be affected by the chaos behind them. He tried not listening to the kids as their banter continued. Yet, the more he attempted to tune them out, the more concern for their mother he heard in their voices. They loved her; that much was undeniable. He passed an exit sign for Brenda's town—CARVER'S GROVE 5 MILES. Clenching the steering wheel, his ex-wife's voice resonated in his mind. They hate you. He turned on the radio, hoping to block out her spiteful words. They hate you. The emergency broadcast message was deafened by Brenda's maliciousness. They hate you!

  Holding back the tears that threatened to fall, Sam looked at the oncoming exit sign. CARVER'S GROVE 2 MILES. Maybe the kids did hate him. Perhaps they blamed him for the divorce and all the heartache that went along with it. But they were younger then, much younger. Much younger and more impressionable. He flicked the radio off, silencing the robotic voice forever. God only knows what bullshit she's been feeding them over the years, he thought, and not for the first time. She wanted the kids all to herself. She always did refer to them as “her children”. My kids won't be a deadbeat like you. My kids will thank me someday for what I've done for them. My kids don't need anything from you.

  Breathing slowly through his teeth, Sam stared at the road with a mixture of sorrow and anger he hadn't felt since the bad times; the times when he and Brenda would argue for countless hours, screaming at the top of their lungs. CARVER'S GROVE 1 MILE. He wouldn't let Brenda take them away from him. Not again. They were his children as much as they were hers, and they needed him. More so now than ever. They needed him to protect them from all the pain and suffering the world had to offer. They could rely on him just as much as they could rely on her. CARVER'S GROVE ½ MILE. But most of all, he needed them. And he wasn't going to allow that miserable bitch to take away the only thing in his life he was ever proud of. Not now. Not ever.

  “Dad, the exit's coming up,” Matty said.

  They hate you.

  “Dad?”

  They hate you.

  Sam kept the wheel straight and his eyes forward.

  “Dad, did you hear me?”

  Becky tapped him on the shoulder. “That's the exit right there.”

  They hate you!

  With a deep, relaxing breath, Sam moved into the farthest lane away from the exit.

  “You fucking missed it!” Becky screamed.

  Dana leaned over the seat. “What's going on?”

  “We're not going there,” Sam said. “We're going somewhere safe.”

  Dana raised her eyebrows. “Safer than our own home?”

  “Yes, safer than that,” Sam replied.

  Becky shook her head. “Please tell me we aren't going to that stupid fucking warehouse. I know you're in love with that place, but that is the dumbest idea I've ever—”

  “Shut the fuck up!”

  Except for the rumbling engine, the Jeep came to a sudden state of silence. Adjusting the rear-view, Sam stared at Becky and Dana while he spoke.

  “We're going to need supplies. Food, water, gas, propane, batteries, flashlights. Your mother might not have all that stuff, and we're going to need as much as we can carry. I also have friends there. They can help us. Once we get what we need, we'll leave and find your mother.”

  “And Bob?”

  Sam's blood pressure spiked. “Yes. Bob, too. Now sit back and keep quiet so I can think.”

  “Hey, Dad.”

  “Matty, what did I just say?”

  “There's a cop behind us.”

  Peering into the side mirror, Sam caught an eyeful of red and blue lights flashing behind him.

  “Goddammit.”

  “Maybe you should pull over,” Becky suggested.

  Sam shook his head. “Not here. Not out in the open. If he wants to pull us over, fine, but not here.”

  Jerking the wheel, Sam darted between two cars. The unmarked police vehicle followed, its sirens blaring. Speeding around a group of sedans, Sam caught the off-ramp for Pleasure Plains, blowing the yield sign at the end of the ramp and cutting into flowing traffic. A few cars screeched to a halt, preventing the police cruiser from leaving the exit.

  “That'll buy us a minute or two. Hang on, kids. We're almost there.”

  Sam floored it through several red lights, dodging the vehicles crossing the intersection. Pedestrians on the sidewalk stared in awe as he flew past them. The kids begged him to slow down, but he refused to listen. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his cellphone and dialed.

  “Brian? Brian! It's Sam. I'm getting ready to pull in. No, listen to me! Keep everyone inside the store! No one leaves, okay? Just do it!”

  He tossed the phone onto the dashboard and peeled into the parking lot. Holding down the Jeep's horn, customers from the neighboring stores darted out of the way, some diving to safety behind parked cars. Sam barreled towards Costbusters, quickly scanning the area. No one was dead. Their flesh hadn't been burned off their bones. Everyone seemed fine, except for being startled by his erratic driving. A few strangers reached for their phones, undoubtedly contacting the authorities. There was no need. Sam stared at the blue and red lights in his rear-view. The unmarked cruiser had also pulled into the parking lot and it was approaching rapidly.

  Sam slammed on the brakes as he neared the store's front a
pron. As soon as the Jeep came to a complete stop, Jenny threw open her door and booked it down the street. Sam opened his mouth to tell her to go inside the store where it was safe, but it was too late. The woman was halfway to the highway, running full speed in the opposite direction, leaving the cartoon-faced towel behind. Sam wondered how far she'd get before bursting into flames. Turning his attention back to the store, he saw Brian trying to keep the customers and employees calm. Grabbing the towel he had used to keep himself safe, Sam covered himself, pushed open the door, and raced to the back of the Jeep. He opened the back door and tossed the towels to the kids.

  “Put those on over your heads and get inside!”

  “What? Why?” Becky asked.

  “Don't argue with me! Just do what I tell you!”

  “What about Mom?”

  “Dana, we'll go get Mom after we're safe. I promise. Now just put the towel on and go inside, okay?”

  She nodded and followed Matt and Becky inside the store. Sam followed, but the squealing tires nearing caused him to abruptly cease movement. Turning, he saw the unmarked police car skidding to a complete stop. Instantly, a man in a suit jacket stepped out of the car, drawing his gun.

  “Hands in the air! Come on, asshole! Let me see them!” he shouted, pointing his revolver at Sam.

  Nervously, he raised his hands. “Officer, you need to listen to me. You need to—”

  The officer motioned his gun to the ground. “Get down! Now!”

  “If you'll just listen to me, I can explain—”

  “Do it! Do it now!” he shouted, taking a few steps toward Sam.

  In the shade of the front apron, Sam took to his knees, pleading with the officer. “It's not safe out there. You need to come inside, out of the sun.”

  “That's enough! Stay...” he stopped, pausing to feel his forehead. “Remain silent!”

  “Get back in the car!” a woman shouted from the cruiser's passenger's seat. “Get out of there right now!”