Overshadowed (Free Short Story) (The Remnant)

by Vannetta Chapman

  They had all hurried to an auditorium-style classroom and watched the scene unfold on a giant screen. He hadn’t immediately known then that his parents had died. He knew they worked there, knew they would be at work, but he told himself they’d managed to get out. It would be days before he could confirm that his mother had died almost immediately. She’d worked on the seventy-eighth floor of the South Tower. Only fourteen people had escaped the impact zone. A coworker had finally verified her death firsthand. The man had checked her for a pulse and then covered her with a jacket before resuming the walk down.

  His father had died in the evacuation. He’d been seen going the wrong direction, going upstairs to help those trapped above him.

  That event had overshadowed Gabe’s entire adulthood, or so it had always seemed. No doubt it was the reason he had joined the military. But what they were facing now? It reached further than any terrorist attack and would take far longer to recover from, if indeed they could.

  He drove back toward town, wondering how he would fit in, how he could win these people’s trust. He needed to know what was happening in order to make his report to the governor, and he needed to do it relatively quickly. Not that he could do anything to change the course of events. Strangers rarely had any influence on a place, and small-town Texas? Well, he knew the jokes about people who had moved in twenty years ago and were still newcomers. No, he would have to sit back and let them come to him. Perhaps drop a hint to the right person that he could help in a pinch.

  And he would help—as much as he was able—but only for a few weeks. After that, he would be heading to Austin, even if he had to walk.

  NINE

  Lenora’s father had been surprised and happy to see her. He didn’t ask why she was there. He simply kissed her on the cheek and then went to change into clean clothes. It wasn’t until he’d walked into the bathroom that he called out to her mother.

  Lenora could hear their voices, could tell from the lilting tone and rapidness of their words that their conversation was entirely in Spanish. She couldn’t make out what they said, though. She set the table with plates, silverware, and glasses, as she had every night of her life while she’d grown up in Hondo. When her father reached for her hand and her mother’s, she saw in his eyes that he understood the gravity of the situation, but he didn’t bring it up. Instead, he offered a blessing for their food, and they enjoyed dinner—speaking of rain forecasts, his work, her mother’s chickens. She helped her mother to clean up, taking peeks at her cell phone every few minutes.

  “Has it happened yet? This thing?” Her mother nodded at her phone.

  “No. I think we’ll know when it does.”

  An hour later they sat in the living room, and she explained to her father everything she knew, all she suspected, and her worst fears.

  He asked a few questions, but fewer than she expected, and then he stood and reached for his straw cowboy hat.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To speak with the neighbors.”

  “But, Papá, I’m not sure we should. What if they panic? What if they—”

  He stilled her words with a hand on her arm. “They are our neighbors, and we will warn them as much as we can.”

  “What if they don’t believe you?” Tears stung her eyes for the second time that day, thinking of Anthony, his look of disbelief, and his worry over whether to keep his store open. Thinking of Raymond and the way he’d hurried off to his computer. Thinking of her boss, who had assured her everything would be fine. “I don’t think they’ll believe anything you say.”

  “That is their decision. The most we can do is share what we know.”

  “We don’t really know anything, though.”

  “And yet you are sure?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s good enough.” He walked out the front door and down the street.

  Lenora realized her mother was on the phone in the kitchen—the landline they’d insisted on keeping. They’d divided what they planned to do. Her father going house to house, her mother calling those who lived farther away.

  “Can I help?” Lenora asked.

  “You have done enough already.”

  So she’d gone outside, to the small iron table with four chairs. She’d sat there and watched dusk gather.

  Lenora’s mind felt numb, completely exhausted. Occasionally she checked her phone. The news reports had finally confirmed that all military bases were on DEFCON 3. A special alert confirmed that they were expecting a statement from the military at any moment. Other sites claimed that the president would release a statement at nine p.m. A quick scan of social media confirmed her worst fears—widespread looting and unprecedented traffic jams and theories—lots of theories.

  North Korea was about to attack.

  The caldera in Yellowstone was showing signs of a massive eruption.

  A virus with high mortality rates and no antidote was rapidly spreading.

  The zombie apocalypse was beginning.

  She would have laughed if it hadn’t been so serious. She lived in a culture that reveled in thoughts of a world thrown into the past, but no one believed it would happen in their lifetime. She didn’t realize that her papá was home or that her mamá was off the phone until they joined her outside.

  “Let’s go up on the patio,” Papá said, hooking his arm in hers.

  Mama held a pitcher of lemonade, a stack of three glasses, and a plate of cookies.

  “I’ll take that, Elsia.” He smiled at her mother and accepted the pitcher.

  The garage had a flat roof, and her father had built the patio there years ago, when she was a small child. The breeze was better there, the view remarkable.

  As far as Lenora could see, in every direction, was the scrubby landscape of west Texas.

  The aurora appeared gradually, so that Lenora thought at first that she was imagining it. But then her mother grasped her arm.

  “What is it?”

  “The aurora borealis,” her father said.

  “But we shouldn’t be able to see it here.” Lenora clasped her arms around herself, suddenly cold.

  Red, blue, and green arcs of light descended as a veil around them, showered them, as the aurora cloaked them in its unnatural light.

  They were in that moment between dusk and darkness. Lights sprinkled across the horizon—from homes, businesses, and ranches. In the distance, Lenora thought she could see the lights of Castroville. In a single instant, the lights in every direction blinked out, and all that remained was darkness and the aurora.

  “The power…it’s out…everywhere?” Her mother’s voice sounded more amazed than frightened.

  Lenora checked her phone again and saw what some part of her had been expecting to see since she’d walked into Gabe’s apartment and found the store of supplies.

  Across her phone screen blinked the words No service.

  TEN

  The light was fading when Gabe decided he’d done enough reconnaissance. It was time to get in position. He parked the car, turned off the engine, and allowed his senses to grow accustomed to the quiet.

  At first he thought he was imagining the lights. He stepped out of his car, looked up, and nearly tripped from a momentary surge of dizziness. The aurora spun and twirled above him. It was an amazing amalgamation of colors and intensity. Then, as if someone had tripped the breakers on a global power box, every light around him blinked off in an instant.

  He opened his car door, sat down, and tried the ignition.

  Nothing.

  He pulled out his phone and saw that there was no service.

  Finally, he pulled his go bag from the backseat and began to walk into the darkness.

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  Massive solar flares are not fiction. The Carrington Event occurred September 1, 1859. Auroras were seen as far south as the Caribbean, and telegraph systems throughout Europe and North America failed. More recently, large solar storms were recorded in 2003, 2011, 2012, 2013, and
2015. Research by NASA scientists indicates there is a 12 percent chance a large storm will happen in the next ten years. This report stresses that a coronal mass ejection, or CME, is not physically harmful, but it could blow out transformers in power grids and disrupt satellite systems, including GPS. A recent assessment by the Department of Homeland Security reported to Congress that a massive electromagnetic pulse (EMP) event caused by a solar flare could leave more than 130 million Americans without power for years.

  THE REMNANT SERIES

  The Remnant series begins with a surprising and devastating event unforeseen by virtually everyone. In Abney, Texas, the electrical grid is lost due to a solar flare, and the citizens of this small town will discover what that means for their community, family, friends, enemies, and personal lives. Join them on their journey of survival in a suddenly dark world in the first book, Deep Shadows.

  Buy Now

  Please enjoy the following excerpt from the first chapter of Deep Shadows

  Excerpt from Deep Shadows

  PRELUDE

  Abney, Texas

  June

  Shelby Sparks couldn’t breathe.

  Max had knocked her to the ground seconds after the explosion. She heard the swoosh of a home collapsing and felt the heat of the fire from where she lay in the middle of the street. None of that mattered.

  She pulled in a deep breath, coughed on the smoke, and choked on the words she needed to say.

  Someone screamed for help.

  Another explosion ripped through their neighborhood.

  A roaring fire surrounded them.

  Shelby was consumed by a single thought—Carter was out there. She had to reach her son. She pushed against Max, pleaded with him to let her up, tried to jab him with her elbows. All the while, she fought the sobs tightening her throat.

  “Are you okay?” he shouted.

  He’d raised up enough to check on her. She didn’t pause to listen to a word he said or answer a single question. A part of her mind registered the wall of flames, the destruction and death. She pushed those thoughts aside, struggled to her feet, and ran toward her son.

  ONE

  Bend, Texas

  One week earlier

  Shelby stumbled over a tree root, tried to maintain her balance, and ended up bumping into Max, who glanced back at her with a raised eyebrow.

  “I’m fine,” she snapped.

  Hiking was not her idea of fun, especially since she had an almost pathological fear of snakes. Something scurried through the underbrush. She momentarily froze, but all she could hear was the thudding of her heartbeat and the clomp of Max’s boots against the rocky trail. Resisting the urge to look behind her, she opted instead to pick up her pace and catch the group. They were heading northeast and climbing steadily up. The nearly setting sun cast her shadow in front of her—elongated and misshapen. She wouldn’t have agreed to the afternoon’s activities if it weren’t for the three friends who insisted she step away from her computer and enjoy the great outdoors.

  Max Berkman, Bianca Lopez, and Patrick Goodnight gained the top of the trail a few moments before her. Max was tall and wiry, with black hair beginning to tinge with gray. Bianca was shorter than Shelby—no more than five three, curvy and beautiful. Patrick managed to keep up in spite of his size. He was a big man, with the body shape of the linebacker he had been in high school. He’d retired from the army five years ago. Shelby knew he worked at keeping himself in the same physical condition he’d sported during his years of service.

  She literally collided with the group as they stood with their mouths half-opened, staring around them in amazement.

  The view was a dramatic one. The Colorado River curved like a serpent, two hundred feet below. The Texas hill country stretched out in the distance, green from recent rains. The state park where they were hiking offered over thirty-five miles of trails, though they’d only covered a small portion of that—from the parking area to the Tie Slide Trail, down to Gorman Falls, and now circling back to where they had started via the River Overlook Trail. Probably less than five miles, but it felt like more. Shelby’s heart raced, the muscles in her calves quivered, and sweat trickled down her neck.

  She realized, with a start, that she was the only one looking at the view.

  Glancing up, she at first thought she must be dreaming—that she would wake to find herself at home, in bed, and safe. She closed her eyes and attempted to calm her heart rate. When she opened them, if anything the scene had become more bizarre. What should have been a dark-blue sky was now streaked with shafts of green, pink, purple, and red. The colors of the rainbow, but more sinister.

  The lights of the aurora borealis swirled across the Texas sky.

  “Northern lights?” Max pulled off his ball cap and wiped the sweat from his brow. “Here?”

  “I’ve never seen anything like it,” Bianca said, her voice filled with awe. She tipped her head back and stared straight up, her mouth partially open in surprise.

  Curtains of predominantly red arcs brightened the sky, reflecting off every rock, tree, and cactus. Shelby had asked someone for the time less than a mile back, and Max had said it was eight p.m. The sun had set and the sky was beginning to turn dusky. She’d picked up her pace, wanting to make it back to the truck before complete darkness fell.

  But now, the sky was unnaturally bright.

  “This shouldn’t be visible here,” she murmured.

  “I’ve read about it, but I’ve never seen it.” Patrick leaned against a boulder and continued to stare at the sky.

  Max watched Shelby.

  She glanced at Max and shook her head. “We need to get back. Now.”

  When he only cocked his head, she said, “I need to check on Carter.”

  “Can you call him?”

  She pulled her cell phone from her pocket and pressed Carter’s number under Recent Calls. As she suspected, the call wouldn’t go through.

  Bianca and Patrick had taken out their phones as well and were using them to take pictures of the northern lights.

  Max stepped closer to Shelby. “What’s wrong?”

  “The call won’t go through. I need to get home, Max. I need to be there in case Carter…in case he has a problem.”

  “All right. Let’s double-time it.”

  Bianca had been turning in a circle, photographing the celestial event. She was a freelance graphic designer and sold many of her photos on the web. Finally tearing her gaze from the sky, she asked, “Is this a problem?”

  “Yes, it is.” Shelby worked to keep the panic from her voice. Maybe she was misremembering her research. Possibly she was overreacting.

  The aurora continued to bathe them in its unnatural light, even tinting their skin the color of a red rose. Patrick exchanged a questioning look with Max, who was readjusting the weight of his backpack.

  “The lady says we need to hurry. Let’s go.”

  It was a testament to their friendship that everyone held their questions. The group turned back toward the trail, and that was when they heard the whine of a jet engine, followed by a thunderous crash. To the southeast, black smoke rose to meet the swirling light of the borealis.

  Bianca gasped, Max and Patrick stood frozen, and Shelby realized that the nightmare she feared was actually happening. Each member of the group instinctively stepped closer together.

  “What was that?” Bianca swiped at her hair, and Shelby noticed that her friend’s hands were shaking. “Patrick? What was that? Did we…did we actually just see a plane crash?”

  Before Patrick could respond, they heard the whine of another plane—this one smaller, probably a single engine, and headed south. As they watched, another dot approached, and then the planes collided. They tumbled to the ground as more smoke filled the sky.

  “None of those planes were military,” Patrick said.

  “Those people…are they all dead?” Bianca backed up against a tree and slid to the ground. “Are you telling me…did an entire plane of peo
ple…did three entire planes of people just die right in front of our eyes?”

  “I’m fairly certain the first was a domestic flight, probably headed to the regional airport.” Patrick’s tone was grim, hardened—the voice of a soldier assessing a situation. “The other two could have been private jets.”

  Shelby glanced at Max, who had once again pulled out his phone. “Nothing. I can’t access 9-1-1, there are no emergency notifications, there’s nothing.”

  She fought the urge to vomit, covered her mouth with her hand, and tried to think clearly. This could not be happening. Not now.

  Plane crashes. People burned alive. The borealis.

  The thoughts spun and collided in her mind, and beneath those more selfish, more urgent ones rose to take their place.

  They weren’t ready. Probably they never would have been ready, but Shelby’s life had finally begun to resemble something normal. Carter was to leave for college at the end of August.

  Please, not now. The words were a prayer coursing through her heart.

  Max’s expression had settled into a hard, straight line. “We can’t help those people. It’s farther away than it looks.”

  “So we just leave them?” Bianca’s voice cracked. She stood and swiped at the tears running down her cheeks.

  “Yeah. We do.” Max repositioned his backpack.

  Without another word, the four best friends rushed back down the trail, retracing the path they had covered a few hours earlier. Only now everything was different.

  They stayed closer together, though darkness had refused to cloak the hillside. Picking out the trail was no problem. It was eerily bathed in the pulsing light of the borealis. In twenty minutes they covered the distance back to where they’d parked. As they turned the last corner and caught sight of Max’s truck, another explosion shattered the evening’s silence.