Sol Survivors

by Ken Benton

  Debra put her chin on her hand. “Going to bed early is fine by me. How long before we can do so tonight?”

  “Any time. You and Archer claimed the back bedroom, so it’s all yours. I’m only going to be up a little while longer to finish my notes.”

  Jessie walked up behind Joel and announced, “It’s a beautiful night. Anyone want to come outside? The northern lights are on display again. Now we can actually enjoy them.”

  Joel turned to her, irked that she sounded so oblivious to everything just discussed. Beyond the kitchen, he saw the front door of the cabin wide open, revealing the source of the suddenly cooler air in the house. Archer must have gone out.

  But it was good to see her in a pleasant mood, at least, and making the best of things.

  For a minute, anyway. After that it became stressful, as her way of making the best of things brought discord. Everyone except Jessie and Archer wanted to go to bed. But instead they all came out on the porch at Jessie’s goading, stepping off it for brief moments to see the northern lights again, which still stretched from horizon to horizon and still displayed the full spectrum of color including the lower-altitude blues and purples.

  It had already begun to lose its novelty for Joel. Or perhaps he was simply too tired to appreciate it tonight. No, it was more than that. Something about the night air disturbed him. Strange. Joel knew his property inside and out, and had spent more than a few hours in the yard after dusk working late on various projects or stargazing. But this night air tonight felt ominous for some reason. Thick, like it was hard to move in, and especially dark even with the aurora borealis above and the light of a half-moon rising in the east.

  Sammy, Mick, and Debra also appeared to want nothing to do with the night. They stayed on the porch with Joel and watched with looks of disdain at the movements of Jessie and Archer, who turned about in the yard with free-swinging head and arm movements, resembling the dance of children in a light summer rain.

  Mick asked permission to turn in. Sammy seconded the motion, settling into the front bedroom after Mick ascended the stairs to the loft. That left Joel and Debra waiting for their inexplicably rejuvenated significant others to come inside.

  Jessie and Archer weren’t the only ones engaging in outside activity after dark. Joyful talking drifted over from the bad neighbor’s property. Probably all three burglars having a party with the cantankerous old man and whoever the hell else they were accommodating. The sounds of tools in use came from that direction, too, such as a hammer and saw, suggesting that they were working on the slums construction project at night.

  Jessie finally came in and headed for the master bedroom, hallelujah. Joel followed her while Debra moved to the front door, expecting Archer close behind.

  But Jessie reemerged with a blanket in her arms.

  “We’re going to do some yoga,” she announced.

  * * *

  Debra didn’t like being alone at night. She never did, even in college. After her divorce, the phobia got worse. At times she contemplated buying a handgun. But she wondered if it would be a waste of money, and if she could ever actually get herself to use it even should it become plainly necessary.

  Guess that question had now been answered.

  Debra shuddered and looked at the clock. Midnight. She must have dozed off a while. Seriously, her man and her friend were still outside doing yoga and stargazing? She could still occasionally hear one of them out there talking. Poor Sammy—his room was closer to them.

  Having discussed the issue at various times in the past with coworkers and friends, Debra knew she wasn’t the only single woman afraid of being alone at night. It was common, especially among divorcees. That may be one reason divorced women were typically quick to rebound into new relationships. Maybe that’s why Debra hooked up with Archer. Anyone was better than no one, right? Even a coworker at a small facility, a proposition with bright warning signs flashing.

  They had talked about it together. Archer was fresh off a difficult breakup as well. Their first few dates weren’t even dates, and completely void of romance. But then he held her hand that night on the way to the ice cream shop after the movie. She responded. It felt normal by then.

  And she did like him. Archer had positive qualities. He was polite, smart, reasonably good looking, and had his moments when he could make her laugh. Could she see herself marrying him? Before the solar event, possibly. What if she wasn’t afraid of being alone at night? Would she have still been willing to marry him? That one was tougher.

  The solar event certainly changed things, but Debra wasn’t sure why. Did the event change Archer? What the heck was going on with him, acting sick all day and then perking up and staying up half the night with Jessie? Or did the event change Debra? She was usually up for a little nocturnal fun.

  Debra sat up in bed and considered going outside. Not to get him, not to be a bitch girlfriend and drag him to bed, but to join them in stargazing and to act goofy with friends. That was the Debra she liked to be.

  But this night tonight, out there right now, still felt foreboding. So she turned over to lie back down. Maybe she simply didn’t care for Tennessee.

  The cabin was nicer than expected, and it was a true blessing to have someplace to go, especially with someone like Joel. Being alone in the room wasn’t as bad knowing he was in the house. The man was efficient if nothing else. She smiled thinking about how he temporarily organized the supplies tonight from all three trucks in the living room. Tomorrow they would inventory it and store it all in some logical method, she was sure. There would be a plan for consumption and usage of irreplaceable goods. Gardening would soon start. The boys would hunt and fish. Joel would design some kind of security plan, no doubt, to keep them all safe.

  But even Joel had finally decided to leave Jessie and Archer to their night-owl fate and go to bed—after making sure Archer was armed with a shotgun.

  “As long as you keep hearing those neighbors you should be fine,” Joel said to Archer. “It’s when they go silent you need to be concerned. Please come in, both of you, when that happens.”

  Debra doubted whether Joel was sleeping all that soundly, either. Maybe if she got up she’d find him in the kitchen and the two of them could have a cup of herbal tea. If Jessie didn’t like it, she could quit playing with Archer and come to bed already.

  Jessie and Joel. Now there were birds of different feathers. How did they ever get together? Yes, opposites attract, and they were both cute and about the same age. Still, it was hard to imagine what they ever really talked about. Maybe they didn’t do all that much talking.

  Somehow Debra didn’t think Joel would have gone to bed if it were her out there instead of Jessie. He behaved like too much of a gentleman for that. With Jessie he probably just gave up, especially since a man was with her.

  Debra responded well to Joel. She seemed to be in tune with him. Like on the highway today with the whole motorcycle affair. Her part in that maneuver was flawless. Of course, it was unfortunate to have to deal with such a problem—wasn’t it? She had to admit dealing with it successfully brought a certain satisfaction. But she also knew it was a dangerous game.

  Hell, she killed someone. Her. Debra. Shot him dead with Archer’s rifle, after performing a risky movement to even get to the gun and then sneak to a spot where she could use the damn thing. It was an anguishing ordeal, and one Debra only ever played out in her mind during those days before Archer when she thought about buying a gun so she could sleep better. But the anguish, amazingly, didn’t last. The bastard hijacker got what he deserved. She could indeed fire a gun at a human target when the circumstances called for it.

  Debra shuddered again and moved to her side.

  Then there was the arrival this afternoon, discovering home invaders in the process of breaking in. Once again, Debra responded well to Joel and worked in tandem with him to resolve the issue. They turned a potentially hazardous set of conditions into something kind of fun. The two of them made a
good team…

  The bedroom door creaked.

  Debra shifted to see Archer tiptoe inside and lean the shotgun against the wall, still looking much too awake.

  “You two must have had quite a time,” Debra said.

  “Sorry.” Archer sat on the bed and took off a shoe. “She’s still out there, actually. Promised she’d go to bed after a little more yoga.”

  “Archer!” Debra sat up. “Put that shoe back on! Don’t you leave her out there by herself!”

  “She wants to be alone for a few minutes, sweetie. Said she needs it in order to reach a perfect place so she can sleep well.”

  “Oh, hell!” Debra threw the cover off. “I’ll go.”

  * * *

  The hog sensed something different when he stopped at the tree line. Carefully, he plodded forward. This spot was no longer unoccupied, as it was most nights he came this way.

  It wasn’t that this area gave up much food. It did once, but not for a while now. The ground made a good passage, though, and it never hurts to check it out while moving through to a more productive place. Sometimes there were edible mushrooms or roots worth digging for.

  Three big elevated objects sat in the open space before the main structure. This was new. His snout told him that the tall animals, the ones the power which governs the universe had placed in charge of the Earth, had been around the objects earlier, but were not there now. The hog knew from past experience that those animals often dropped good morsels around these elevated objects, so he muddled over to investigate.

  Nothing more than a few crumbs rewarded him for his efforts. He set back on his original path.

  But something startled him as he came out from under the third elevated object. Something perplexing. At first glance it appeared to be one of those tall animals, but it was not currently tall. Neither did it emit the usual sensory data. And it seemed to be twisted in a strange position.

  The hog’s senses informed him the gender of this one was female. He knew from the instincts granted him by the power which governs the universe that females of every species, even threatening ones, were typically physically weaker than males.

  This one projected nothing threatening in appearance, scent, or feeling. That was peculiar. In fact, it registered on the hog’s analytical process as being like one of the ferns he so liked to eat the tender shoots of. It almost seemed as if this animal were intentionally transforming itself into one of those ferns, by the energy it projected and the still form it maintained.

  The hog, somewhat confused, also understood that the power which governs the universe had granted its species permission to feed on the tall animals that ruled the Earth, should it ever encounter one in a helpless position.

  The hog had never encountered one in a helpless position before. He knew from instinct that a delicious lathery feast could be had in the soft underbelly of this species. The meal appeared to be gifted him.

  He approached, slowly and hesitatingly. The female animal stayed completely still. It became clear she was incapacitated and defenseless, like a fern.

  The hog decided to test the gift. He skulked forward until he was only inches away. Still no movement. Still projecting the qualities of a fern. So, he bit her thigh.

  The tall animal came to life—first shaking herself to awareness, then turning her head to focus her vision, and then releasing a high-pitched shriek. This was no longer a fern.

  The hog realized a lunch of bowels had not been granted him, and decided to scurry back the way he came. He ran under the first elevated vehicle, then the second, and then the third.

  When he came out the third, another of the tall animals stood upright on the platform of the main structure, wielding an unnatural object of some sort. The hog sensed it was another female of the species. He scrambled past her heading for the trees.

  He didn’t make it. A loud explosion accompanied a blast into his shoulder, throwing him flat on the ground. His first thought was to get up and run away, even faster this time, but it ended up being his last thought. He had no more life in him.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Am I doing this right?” Joel heard Mick ask.

  “Looks like it,” Sammy replied next to him. “And I must say that hat improves the character of your face. What do you think, Joel?”

  Joel found it difficult to take his eyes off the bad neighbor’s house across the field. From here he could see its outline, and a tiny bit of the shack motel being built on the front side, but not much detail—other than the lone figure of a man walking directly towards them, having come out the back door.

  “Joel?” Sammy repeated.

  Joel glanced down at the fence stretcher tool in Mick’s hand. “Looks good,” he said. “I think you’re getting the hang of it. I’d wrap the splices a little tighter before pinching the ends.”

  “What makes them come down?” Mick asked.

  “Animals and weather.” Joel looked back to the approaching visitor, who was now close enough for Joel to see he wasn’t carrying any visible weapons.

  “Like wild pigs, huh?” Sammy said.

  “Those and deer.”

  “What are you so focused on, boss? Oh, someone’s coming. One of the bad guys?”

  “Yeah.” Joel nodded. “Most likely. There is some possibility he is coming to help, or to apologize. All the same, be ready on that shotgun.”

  “Neither of us has ever fired a gun,” Sammy said. “That’s one of the things we need to tell you.”

  Joel frowned. “Be ready anyway. Later, we’ll set up a range out here, in full view—and earshot—of these people. Target practice begins tomorrow.”

  Joel placed his hand in his tool belt to feel for his Glock as the visitor drew close. Mick and Sammy stopped working. When he got within fifteen yards, Joel recognized him as the burglar who’d been at the front bedroom window yesterday.

  The young man didn’t appear any more threatening today than he did when running away yesterday. In fact, he seemed to be struggling in some of his steps. Perhaps he injured himself during his escape. He also grimaced frequently towards the sun, and blinked nonstop.

  “Here to help?” Joel asked him, keeping his hand in his tool bag.

  The visitor only glanced at Joel. His focus stayed on Mick. Mick must have noticed it too, as he stood up. The visitor then walked right up to him and held out his arm.

  “Can I have my hat back?”

  Mick and Sammy both looked at Joel in response.

  “Don’t you have something else you want to say?” Joel asked him.

  “Can I please have my hat back?” The visitor never took his eyes off Mick. His mannerisms struck Joel as being somewhat pathetic.

  Mick took the Panama hat off and handed it to him.

  The visitor put his hat on, turned, took four steps away, then stopped and turned back.

  “Thanks,” he said. “Who did you shoot last night?”

  Joel tilted his head. “A feral hog. We have it roasting in a pit today. Can you smell it? A small one, but still more than we can eat. You guys are welcome to come over and have some later, as long as you leave your guns and crowbars at home.”

  “What time?” the visitor asked.

  “It will probably be ready around five-thirty.”

  “Too early.” The visitor turned away again, shook his head, and resumed his retreat. “Too early.”

  “Man,” Joel said after he’d gone a ways. “Some people are simply incapable of apologizing. Couldn’t do it to save their life.”

  “Or even to get a hat back,” Sammy commented.

  Joel turned to Mick. “Here,” he said taking his cap off. “Wear this for now. Your skin is too fair for direct exposure in this dangerous sun, according to the two scientists staying with us. I’ll go find another one while you guys finish this up. Make sure you tighten all the back section before hitting the downed spots on the road side.”

  “Thanks.” Mick accepted it and turned to Sammy. “When are we going to
tell him the other thing?”

  Sammy winced. “After he gets a couple drinks in him, maybe.”

  “He needs to know,” Mick said. “It could present a danger.”

  Joel put his hands on his hips. “Got enough of those going already. But what is it?”

  “I would have let you know last night,” Sammy said, “but I had no knowledge of your run-ins with those scavengers until you told us the story this morning.”

  “Let me know what?”

  “The whole thing is just freaky.”

  “What’s freaky, Sammy? What in tarnation is it?”

  “We picked him up. Hitchhiking. I must not have been very far behind you. It was really stupid of me. I only did it to try to make a philosophical point we were debating at the time.”

  “Picked who up hitchhiking? Don’t tell me…”

  “Yeah. The motorcyclist whose front tire you shot.”

  “No, no. No! Hells bells, man, how far did you take him?”

  “About … forty miles? We had serious trouble with him as well. Pretty sure he was getting set to carjack us. We’re kind of lucky to be here, truth be told.”

  Mick spoke. “Thanks to Sammy’s quick thinking and decisiveness we managed to come out of it unscathed. But … there’s more.”

  Joel listened in horror to the further details. The nightmarish facts descended on him as a dungeon gate. A dedicated enemy, an evil manifestation in human flesh which existed solely to nurture a furious hatred of Joel, a scumbag whose sole remaining purpose in his miserable life was that of Joel’s destruction, now had Joel’s name and address.

  Joel should not have aimed for his tire.

  Sammy stood poised to absorb a verbal pounding from Joel, like the time he tried to help with one of Joel’s sales and ended up blowing the deal. The current shame on his face went down to the core of his soul.

  Joel didn’t yell at him. He said only one thing before turning and walking away in a manner that probably would be more punishing to Sammy than any words at any volume could ever be.