The Rain | Part 1 | The Beginning

by Standlee, Marietta

  “Make me stop.” he offers, wiggling his eyebrows challengingly.

  “Enough, Colin. Quit goading her all the time.” I like Martin, better and better.

  “You two are coddling her.” Colin accuses.

  “She’s hurt,” Blake interjects.

  “She got hurt a week ago.” Colin counters.

  “So, you were accusing me,” I state happily.

  “If the shoe fits.” He finishes his beer while his eyes are still challenging me over the top of the bottle.

  “See, there is just no talking to him.” I stomp my foot again, which earns me another amused grin from Colin. I force myself not to stick my tongue out at him.

  “You two are like cats and dogs.” Martin shakes his head.

  “Who is the dog?” Colin wants to know.

  “You.” I laugh. “Because your bark is the meanest.”

  Blake laughs too, and we high five each other. Colin looks amused as he scrutinizes us.

  “Takes one to know one.” He puns.

  “Oh my God, see, he just can’t let it go.” I turn to Martin, exasperated.

  A scream from somewhere close by interrupts our bantering instantly; Colin takes a leap over the railing and down into the backyard. My mouth opens into a silent, wide Oh.

  He made that look so easy; there is no way I could do that, not even if my arm weren’t in a sling. I dash down the stairs the old-fashioned way, while both Blake and Martin follow Colin’s lead. Maybe I really do need to start back up on the training.

  The screaming has stopped, but everybody is staring at Caren, pointing a finger up into the sky. I follow her outstretched arm and find a massive triangle in the sky. Black and shiny, something utterly out of this world. Nothing like any of us have ever seen before. Even though its size and shape remind me of a stealth bomber, it’s still nothing like that. I’m frozen as I crane my neck to stare up at it.

  “Get in the house,” Colin orders us, but my body won’t move until I feel strong arms wrap themselves around me, and I’m lifted off the ground. Colin, of course, I think dismayed. But I’m still too stunned to admonish him.

  Adam comes out on the deck. “What’s happening.”

  “Get inside,” Martin yells at him.

  The second Martin’s command leaves his mouth; everybody makes a run for the house. I lean against Colin’s chest and hear the steady thumping of his heart.

  “Let me down,” I demand after I finally find my voice. We have reached the family room, and he drops me unceremoniously, like a sack of potatoes.

  “Ugh!” I rub my bum.

  He shrugs his shoulders, as in ‘I did what you asked.’ And there is nothing I can say.

  “There are four or five of them now,” Blake says as he looks out the window.

  “Get away from the window, everybody into the basement.” Martin orders.

  We push and shove our way down the steep stairs into the basement, which is a large, open room with no windows whatsoever. There is a small niche in one corner with a washer and dryer; otherwise, it’s just some old furniture and storage: Christmas decorations and stuff. The room is just big enough to hold all forty of us.

  “Where is Adam?” I search around.

  “He went back up to get Ben down,” Caren informs me.

  “I’ll go help.” Colin offers, and he and Blake run back up the stairs.

  We all stand in the room with bated breath, staring at the ceiling, waiting. Waiting for what? Bombs to fall? Aliens, to appear? I don’t know, but fear is clearly written over everybody’s faces.

  “They are gone; you guys can come back up,” Martin yells down.

  Even though I’m relieved, it kind of feels like a letdown. All that adrenaline flooding my body has no outlet. I feel spent. Hesitantly, we all make our way back up. Most kids run back home. Once we know for sure, the ships are gone.

  Martin turns on the TV. An almost pointless gesture since we all have but given up on consulting it for actual news. Which is why we are astonished when we are the news show real live footage of the things we just saw. Martin turns the sound up.

  “…. appearing around an hour ago. The White House press secretary has confirmed that these unidentified flying objects are circling major cities and are urging the population to stay away from those cities. Which are: Los Angeles, Houston, Atlanta….” She lists about twenty major cities.

  “Guys.” Colin holds up his phone, and Martin turns the TV down again.

  It looks anyway as if the news is going to play the same report in a loop. We all circle around Colin as he opens a picture of Los Angeles on his phone, which we have seen before, with all the orange flowers.

  “I got a text from a buddy who is still with the Air Force. He says they had orders to bomb the city with napalm, to burn those God-forsaken flowers when the UFO’s appeared. He said there was an enormous battle in the skies, and they actually managed to shoot two of the alien aircrafts down.”

  Blake and I whoop and high five each other.

  “But the others shot most of our jets down, and they had to retreat. This happened in three different cities.” Colin finishes.

  “Why is he telling you this?” I ask suspiciously.

  Colin shrugs. “We are buddies; why wouldn’t he?”

  Who is naïve now, I wonder? I want to rub it in but think better of it. “I’m just saying, wouldn’t your buddy get into a lot of trouble if they found out what he did? So why is he sharing this with you?”

  Colin looks at me, surprised, and his eyes assess me as if he has never seen me before. “Not bad, princess.”

  His condescension is wearing on me.

  “Whatever, can you just answer my question for once?” I demand.

  He sighs. “I might as well let you guys in on it. There are a few of us, different branches of the military, who think this whole thing is going south soon. We promised to keep each other in the loop on things we find out. We all have these.” He shows us his phone, and for the first time, I notice that it is one of those cheap, disposable ones—the ones you don’t have to register and paid for in cash.

  “Everyone in our group has a certain intelligence clearance, and even though I defected, the promise still holds, especially since I was able to share a lot about what we found out. Happy?” He sticks his chin out at me.

  “Happier.” I counter.

  “Is everything alright?” Adam asks from the top of the staircase.

  “I’ll go fill him in.” Blake offers.

  Colin holds him back by the sleeve and whispers. “Not a word about the group I mentioned.”

  Blake looks hurt. “As if I would have.”

  Part III

  The Road

  to Alaska I

  Chapter 30

  We are on the road to Alaska. Everything happened very fast after we saw the first alien spacecrafts. They seem to be everywhere now. I guess they think they don’t need to hide any longer. It’s not a full-blown invasion; as far as we know, nobody has even seen an actual alien yet, but their spacecrafts are becoming a common sight.

  Even the government finally broke its silence and announced that its citizens should flee into the northern hemisphere, which left us with the choice of Alaska or Canada. We opted, for now, to stay within the US.

  Horror stories about refugees are in abundance. We heard Mexico was hit hard, and the entire surviving population is on its way to Canada. Same as survivors from California, Texas, Arizona, and all the other southern states.

  Other rumors circulate about Montana, North Dakota, and other northern states. It’s said those states are completely overrun by refugees and claim that Canada has closed all borders.

  Stories about murder and mayhem are everywhere. The government has given up on its censorship of social sites, and they are literally a free for all. Uncensored pictures and clips of dead people and even torture is the norm; hidden within are essential tips on how to survive and what to watch out for if you know where to search and what
to believe.

  For example, I’m not even going to consider, getting near or eating an orange flower will benefit me in any shape or form, whereas somebody else posted a bunch of traditional herbs and plants and all their healing capabilities. I downloaded the information on that one. You never know when we might run out of medicine. Nobody is producing any right now, that’s for sure.

  At first light, a large hodgepodge caravan of vehicles began the exodus. It was hard watching Bandon, and all I have ever known slowly recede in the review mirror. Last night I stood by my mom’s and Lexy’s grave to say my good-byes. Not knowing if I would ever be back, I placed items I valued by each grave. Lexy received my favorite earrings. The ones we squabbled over for years. On my mom’s grave, I left my beloved, stuffed giraffe. She bought it for me when I was only two, and my appendix had to be taken out. The giraffe has always been with me, watched over me. And now it’ll do the same for my mom.

  By the memorial marker for my dad, I left his favorite coffee mug, filled with freshly brewed coffee and sugar just the way he liked it. During the last few weeks, I used the cup every day, but now it’ll stay with him.

  On Cynthia’s marker, I left a picture of Blake, Colin, Lexy, and me. Cynthia took it one day at the beach. Before the divorce and before the drama. It was one of our best vacations as two families—a reminder of a simpler, happier time. I hope wherever she is; this is how she remembers us.

  Many people have joined our convoy—almost everybody from our little militia squad, including their families. Business owners who are friends with Martin, like Joe and Alfredo, as well as Professor Dunn and his assistants, Doctor Paton and his family, to name a few, have decided to take their chances in Alaska. Some of Colin’s buddies are supposed to meet us there, as well as some of Martin’s old friends.

  My only consolation is that most of the people I have known all my life are with us: my friends, Maggie, Blake, Colin, and even Martin. With the arrival of the ever-present spaceships flying and hovering around, it has become evident, though, that we can no longer stay here. Even if we were willing to put up with the heat –which has become not only unbearable but almost unlivable. Plus, thanks to the professor and his minions, we know that this isn’t going to change unless something is done about the alien flower.

  We are back in the RV that served us so faithfully on our escape from California. Nobody ever came to claim it. Our convoy consists of several RVs, as well as regular cars loaded to the brim. Fifth wheels, mini campers, you name it, there’s even one giant semi-truck belonging to Mr. Brigham, the grocery store owner. Somehow Martin convinced him to load the double trailer truck with all the goods left in his store and allow us to use its contents.

  Martin estimates the journey will take us about a week, with all the people in tow, and we are at the end of the second day. It’s getting cooler, little by little. It seems like it’s getting more normal again. It is a huge feeling of relief to watch the thermometer by the dashboard drop, degree by degree. When we left, at five, it was a hundred and four degrees, now it’s ninety-five.

  The worst was going by Portland at the end of our first day. Portland is one of the many cities, sharing the same fate as Los Angeles. Bombed to smithereens by the AF, not much remains standing. It’s the smell that hit us first, even through the closed RV windows. The stench of thousands upon thousands of rotting corpses made my nose burn and my eyes sting. But soon we detected something else, something sweet and beckoning.

  “Shit.” Martin hit the brakes.

  On our left, we saw the first orange flowers, and in the sky, alien spacecrafts flew around like they owned it, which I guess they do now. We were still too far away to be of interest to them, but too close for our comfort.

  “We’ll need to detour,” Martin exclaims, annoyed with the delay but realizes it needs to be done. “Colin, Blake, find some volunteers, use the ATVs. Make sure everybody gets the message, and nobody struggles behind. Open the box over there and take what’s in it.”

  I was closer to the box, so I ripped it open, and my eyes widened at the sight of gasmasks. I held one up questioningly towards Martin, who shrugged his shoulders. “Got to be prepared these days.”

  I took my arm out of the sling; I was sick and tired of it anyway. “I want to go.”

  Blake nodded at me. “Good, you’re with me then.”

  We hopped out of the RV and made our way towards a couple of trucks further behind, who pulled flatbed trailers with the ATVs on them. While we were on our way to collect them, Colin and Blake picked up more of our teammates and handed out masks. Colin explained quickly how to use them, and then we were off in twos, on ATVs catching everybody up on what was happening.

  The convoy is painfully slow, and that day it seemed even slower. Martin, in the lead, steered the RV onto another road that would take us on a long detour, allowing us to give the city a wide berth.

  The worst off were the motorcycle riders, with no protection against the smell. Occasionally, we had to drive back and collect them off the road as they were walking, trance-like, straight towards one of the plants.

  They get deposited into a car or RV, offering more room and protection against the lure of the flower. But unfortunately, those men and women were forced to leave their motorcycles and belongings by the roadside. We couldn’t spare the time to collect all of it. Plus, there was always another straggler; we had to rescue from him- or herself.

  I saw one guy and girl actually getting tackled by Eric and Michael because they refused to come back on their own. Ace and Ty had to step in and literally drag the two into a smaller RV that had stopped and opened its doors.

  The detour cost us several hours, but it was well worth it. Thankfully Portland was the last large city on our route that we heard of to be hit. As far as we know, Seattle hasn’t been touched yet.

  At the end of the second night, we camp out in the woods, miles off the charted course, just to be sure. Martin is having us take backroads. The obvious worry at this point is gas. The RVs are the worst culprits. With about twelve to fifteen miles to the gallon, they seem to chuck gas down like an alcoholic who hasn’t seen a drink in a week. Everybody has extra canisters of gas, but we are slowly using them up as well.

  “We’ll need to get closer to Seattle tomorrow,” Martin states with a dour expression on his face.

  “Maybe we’ll get lucky, and we can commandeer a gas truck.” Colin looks wistfully into the flames of the fire.

  “Maybe.” Martin agrees, unconvinced. “I want you two,” he points at Colin and Blake, “to get some guys together. We need to start sending out scouts in the morning, on ATVs, just to make sure the route ahead is clear.”

  “Sure. Are you thinking maybe eight on four ATVs?” Colin asks.

  Martin nods. “Sounds about right. Take four-hour shifts.”

  Sitting around the campfire now, all seems cozy. The night is dark; the fire is crackling and low voices from all around us make it ambient. Occasionally somebody laughs, and it makes me smile. For all appearance’s sake, we could be on a normal camping trip. I sigh, if only. Just seeing Ben across from me reminds me of everything that has happened and why we are really here.

  Ben and his dad, decided to join us and are bunking with us in the RV. Adam told us that they don’t have any family to speak of left. He tried to call his sister when Ben first vanished but was never able to get a hold of her. One of the many missing. And we all know what happened to his wife and daughter.

  Maggie sits with us tonight and is succeeding in teasing a smile out of Ben.

  Small fires are lit up all around us in our makeshift campground. Here and there, laughter rings out, even the sound of soft music playing can be heard. Smells of different roasting foods assail my senses: hot dogs, hamburgers, baked potatoes, and so much more, a regular smorgasbord.

  I think about Martin’s latest plan of sending scouts ahead of the group. A smart move, I admit. All kinds of dangers could lurk in the forests; we have to travel
through because of the detour we were forced to take. We are in between two major cities, which means maniacs could be anywhere, not to mention our new worry, the dinosaurs. Thankfully we still haven’t seen anything bigger than the ones that attacked the school, but at this point, I’m prepared for anything.

  Besides my Glock and a few knives, I always carry a large rifle by my side as well now. Out here in the woods, it’s not just the new kind of predators, I fear. I always had a rather unconventional fear of bears—any type of bear. Mountain lions have also been known to roam the area, but for some reason, they don’t scare me as much as the thought of bears does.

  And then there are the bandits and gangs we heard so much about, lots of nasty rumors circulate about them, and I don’t doubt that at least some of them are true. We are constantly on the lookout for any kind of danger. Gone are the days where my biggest worry about going camping was a spider. I take a spider or any kind of nasty bug any day of the week now.

  Life has changed a lot. Most of it for the worst, but there is a part of me that keeps insisting that I haven’t. I like to think I'm a better person now than I was before. Probably even then the person I was on my way to becoming —had things progressed their normal way.

  I was bratty in the way I treated my mom and Martin. I was spoiled, wanting only the best purses and most expensive clothes. I was a prima donna who wouldn’t take the trash out without wearing makeup. A sigh escapes me at those thoughts.

  But look at me now. I haven’t washed my hair in two days, and I couldn’t care less (well, kind of less). Instead of talking with Maggie about the newest eyeshadow palette, we argue which gun is better, my Glock or her S&W colt. Yes, times are changing, and we, the people, are changing in the process.

  Caren saunters over, followed by Jose, who carries a few thin, almost arm-length wooden spears. With a grin, Caren holds up a plastic bag. “Anybody up for some smores?”

  My mouth waters just thinking about it. I snatch one of the sticks from Jose’s hands and plug the first white, yummy gooeyness on top. One glimpse at Ben makes me think better, and I overcome my greediness by holding the prepared stick out for him. “Here you go.”