by Kevin Jusino
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Survive the Storm:
Emergence
Survive the Storm
Copyright Ⓒ 2019 by Kevin Jusino. All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblances to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Printed in the United States of America.
CHAPTER ONE
“COME ON ZOEY!”
I snap out of my daze, eyes opening to take in the bright blue sky above. The scent of grass and spring water float by my nose, anchoring me back into the world of the living. With a groan, I sit up on the scratchy blanket spread out underneath me that keeps the cold ground from seeping into my bones. In the distance, I see the rest of my friends piling into the car parked at the base of the hill I lay on, a strange sight when compared to the thick trees and bright meadow surrounding us. This is a place of nature, not vehicles.
“Coming!” I shout back, brushing off the specks of dirt that’ve collected onto my pants.
I crush daises and twigs underneath my feet as I stumble down the hill, the earth squishing underneath me with each step, still damp from last night’s rain. Tossing the blanket into the back of the minivan, I climb into my seat and shut the door.
With a whoop, Ryan starts the engine and hits the gas, sending clumps of mud and grass shooting out behind the wheels as we roll over branches and leaves.
“So?” I whisper, turning to Cacy who sits next to me while the two boys in the front start singing along to some trap song playing on the radio.
“What?” she replies innocently, even managing a nonchalant shrug.
The rosy red color spurting to her cheeks betrays her.
“Oh come on, don’t play decent,” I tease, elbowing her. “What happened?”
While it originally started out with all four of us on the hill, I expertly distracted Ethan while her and Ryan snuck away behind a few clumps of thick trees. What can I say? I’m the best wing-woman a friend could have.
She tosses a glance towards Ryan before leaning in closer. “He kissed me.”
I suck in an exaggerated breath, pretending to be shocked. “No.”
She laughs, slapping my shoulder. It’s time her and Ryan finally realized their power-couple potential.
I’m glad I’ve at least seen one thing come to fruition before I have to move away.
“Zoey, do you really have to leave us?” Ethan asks, twisting around to give me a puppy-dog pout.
I sigh, pushing down the wave of sadness that always threatens to overcome me when I think about how, a five days from now, I’ll be on a plane headed away from Utah and towards California…where I’ll be making a whole new life. Leaving behind everything I’ve known. Leaving behind my friends.
So, we decided to make the most out of our last days together as a whole group. Playing hooky and discovering places in our own town we’ve never seen before…which explains why we wound up driving into the middle of a forest this afternoon.
“You know I wish I could stay, guys,” I say.
Cacy reaches out to grab my hand, her palm warm against mine. “We know, Zoey. We all do. It’s just that Ethan here doesn’t know how to shut up.”
I laugh as he covers his eyes to shield himself from the dirty look she flashes him, forgetting for a moment that, in a week, the most contact I’ll be having with them will be through a screen. But for now, I pretend like today is any other normal day of dumb, young fun.
The rest of our classmates, who decided to be responsible today and actually show up to school, are just being dismissed by the time we cruise back into town; the students spilling out from Backston High’s three-story building—which also happens to be the tallest structure in the city of Backston itself—crowd up the sidewalks as they drift off into the surrounding suburbs.
I don’t have to go home quite yet; Mom has been especially lenient this last month, her eyes growing sad every time she sees me go out with my friends, knowing just how much it must hurt me. Her parents had been an Air Force couple, always moving, always forcing her to start fresh every few years when she was my age.
I can’t imagine how much it must pain her to see herself doing the same to me, but we didn’t have much of a choice. The startup-business she had begun three years ago took off like a startled cheetah just around six months ago; her partners gave her a choice to either come with them to Los Angeles, or leave it completely. We didn’t have a backup plan.
I fumble with these thoughts over a supersized bowl of ice cream drowning in hot fudge and sugary sprinkles. Cacy, Ethan, and Ryan crack the same jokes as always, keeping the energy the same: I told them that’s how I wanted it to be. The same…us, right down to the last minute, so it doesn’t have to hit me that I’m really leaving until I’m already in a whole new state.
“Oh crap, one sec guys, got a call from dadzilla,” Ethan groans, staring at his buzzing phone before stepping out of the diner booth.
“So, Zoey, you brush up on your new language skills yet?” Ryan asks jokingly, his bottom lip covered with chocolate.
I shrug my shoulders nonchalantly. “You could say I’m hella prepared.”
I chuckle as him and Cacy groan in unison.
“That was so bad I don’t even want to finish eating this,” Cacy says, dropping her spoon with a clatter.
Ryan mumbles something under his breath and digs out his own phone while Cacy frowns, wiping the specks of ice cream clinging to his face with a napkin. The door to the diner releases a chime as Ethan jogs back inside, his expression replaced with silent panic.
“Is something wrong?” I ask.
“I-I’m not sure,” he stumbles.
A man sitting at the counter calls out for the waiter to switch the TV channel. He does so until it stops on a news channel, where a grim-faced reporter is talking over the scenes straight out of a movie playing next to him. The waiter turns up the volume until the entire diner can hear.
“…we are…we are receiving reports of what can only be described as a massive nuclear attack on the city of Chicago, Illinois. There-there are no reports from the White House at this time. The source of this attack is unknown, but…it is devastating. We have been completely cut off from communications with our partnering studios in Chicago. I-I believe they may have…they may have been destroyed.”
The camera shots hovering over the city of Chicago shows the carnage in full: entire skyscrapers reduced to rubble, streets set ablaze with flickering yellow flames running right through them, electric lines collapsed and sparking. Cacy whispers an “Oh my god” under her breath, but I can’t seem to form a single word.
“It’s the damn Russians!” someone shouts.
“It’s the end of the world!”
“Whe
re is the government?”
The words fly over my head. All I can do is keep staring as more images pass by, each even more horrifying than the next. Videos from social media surface next, first-hand footage from survivors of people dead in the roads, their bodies scorched beyond recognition. The sky completely blocked out by thick black smoke as a red haze overcomes the city, making it look like a literal hell on earth. I wonder how much longer the people taking those videos have before they too join the rest of the dead.
“Is…is this real?” Ryan whispers breathlessly.
I snap back into focus, realizing that if we’re seeing this, so is everyone else. Ignoring the dozens of news articles that clutter my notifications, I realize that my mom has been spamming me with messages for the past five minutes. I press the call button and cover my other ear with my free hand to block out the screams and cries coming from the television.
The second I bring my phone to my ear, she’s already rambling, “Honey? Honey are you okay?”
“Yeah, I-I’m fine, Mom,” I say, glancing up to see everyone else making similar phone calls. “I’m at the diner right now with everyone else. Mom, what’s going on?”
“I don’t know sweetie,” she sounds breathless, “listen to me, you and your friends need to get home. Now.”
“Okay…yeah, okay we will. I’ll be there soon.”
“Be careful Zoey. And hurry.”
“I will.”
I end the call and stand up just as the reporter resumes talking.
“…do not know where this attack has come from at the moment. Folks, one thing is for sure, none of us are safe.“
Traffic is already building up by the time we return to the streets. People speed past the limit, running red lights in their hurry to get safe before whatever arrived in Chicago comes to us next. A steady line forms on the freeway entrance, the highway already slowing down to a crawl from the sudden onslaught of vehicles. I wonder where those people are going—I’d imagine being here, in a tiny town in the middle of nowhere, would be safer than anywhere else. Maybe they’re joining family, wanting to spend their last moments together…if that’s what it has to come to.
“This is crazy,” Ryan mutters as the car in front of us drives onto the sidewalk to skip the holdup, nearly flattening a few pedestrians.
“What’s going to happen to us?” Cacy asks, a single tear dripping from her cheek.
I stare at her, not knowing what to say. I can’t believe we were all talking over a bowl of ice cream just minutes ago, with not a care in the world. It feels like days have passed between now and then.
It takes four times longer than usual to get to me and Cacy’s neighborhood. Already, the sound of police sirens fill the air with their wailing as soon as we open the car doors, drowning everything else out. Somehow, this no longer feels like home.
“We’ll all text each other, okay?” Cacy says before we step out. “Tell each other what’s going on.”
“Okay,” Ethan, says, his eyes glassy. “Yeah.”
“Promise?”
Ryan speaks first. “I promise.”
Ethan nods. “Promise.”
She turns to me last.
“I promise.”
With that, the boys drive off, probably not to return to their own homes for another hour with how congested the traffic has gotten. Cacy gives me a tight hug, her eyes wet with tears, before crossing the street to her home. I take one deep breath before turning around to my own. Mom is standing at the door, her face a mix of sadness and worry as I walk up the driveway.
And I wonder if those promises were lies.
CHAPTER TWO
THE FIRST DAY is slow.
The government rushes to explain what truly happened, all while trying to find it out for themselves. In short, some type of warhead hit Chicago dead-center and obliterated three-fourths of the city. The death toll started at ten-thousand and continues to rise every minute. Due to the danger of radiation, no rescue teams are currently able to enter the city and help survivors. No one knows who sent the strike.
And Chicago wasn’t the only one.
Major cities all around the world were hit with similar attacks. China and Russia are at a stand-off, as each one suspects the other of sending the missiles, while most of Hong Kong and Moscow have been reduced to rubble. No one wants to say they were the ones who did it—doing so would bring the wrath of a dozen or so nations. Meanwhile, local authorities have locked down American cities, telling citizens to stay indoors until further notice.
I can’t imagine what “notice” will be able to sort this out.
Already, chaos has taken full control of the streets. On the TV, we see videos of supermarkets being raided and stripped bare, cars stolen in pure daylight, police struggling to settle the disorder in larger areas. It’s almost impossible to believe, and yet it continues on anyways, unstoppable.
Despite orders to remain shut-in, the highways have been jam-packed, each vehicle inching forward at snails pace. There’s no getting in or out of anywhere: we’re all stuck.
At least Mom and I don’t really have any other family but each other: we won’t have to be worrying about anyone else. Her parents are still distant, just as they were when she was a child. Her father calls, though, to make sure we’re safe. He tells us to do exactly what the authorities say, and that things will sort out as long as we stay inside. He says that right now, other people are going to be more dangerous than any nuclear warhead. Lucky for us, when Mom got the house, him and grandma forced her to keep the basement stocked well with supplies. Mom acted like it was ridiculous, a waste of time and space, but she still never cleared it out once they left.
I think some of the survival mentality they instilled within her during her childhood still remained, convincing her to keep it all.
The fourth day is when things start to change.
At first, it’s a small headline. Something that scrolls along the bottom of the screen while reporters cover stories of tragedy, death, and insurmountable loss. Eventually, it grows larger and larger, until the scenes of gore and destruction are pushed aside for what comes next. What collectively distracts the entire world, causing us to all hold our breaths.
Their arrival.
No one knows what it is at the start, our only information the blaring notifications that something has entered our atmosphere. It glides through Africa first, so there’s a slight delay before we get the full images. I wish I never had to see it.
The craft is shaped like a sphere, like one of those small lip balms I’d buy at the convenience store. Only, those lip balms aren’t the size of a small city, and they don’t float hundreds of feet above the ground, so large they block out the sun entirely. Its surface is smooth, apart from four large circles carved into the shiny golden material that coats the object. The circles might be how it flies, might be weapons, might be nothing at all: no one knows. Then, it drifts over the Atlantic and the images slow down until, a few hours later, it enters American airspace.
I don’t really understand the specifics of who gets to do what surrounding the U.F.O.; my attention gets divided up between keeping in contact with the rest of my friends and reminding Mom to eat, so I let the people in charge worry about it. She’s constantly glued to the screen, watching in horror as the spacecraft sends the world into even more chaos.
A third of Los Angeles is aflame after a riot went wrong—as if it could go right—and set off some kind of fire that is impossible to contain with the state of the city. As for my friends, Ethan’s family has forced him to go with them to some campsite near the mountains, while Cacy remains alright across the street from me, and Ryan is worried that his family won’t have enough food to last another week.
Those are the small headlines, though. All eyes are peeled for information surrounding our visitors from outer space.
Three jets are sent to intercept the sphere as it nears New York, completely dwarfed by its size. Not ten miles away from the object, the craf
ts drop from the sky like flies and plummet into the ocean below. An EMP attack.
Then the same happens with everything else. Complete blackout.
At first, we think our TV just went out. Mom unplugs the cord a million times, cursing each time the attempt fails. I grab my phone to ask if anyone else has the same problem, but the screen remains lifeless and black no matter how many times I press the power button. I notice the digital clock on the microwave has gone blank as well: in fact, everything else has.
We step outside the house to find two cars stopped in the middle of the road, each twisted at strange angles as if a toddler who couldn’t see over the wheel had parked them. A few of our neighbors emerge as well, and I see Cacy and her brother, Henry, open their door. I jog across the street, something telling me I won’t ever have to look before crossing the street again.
“Did your power go out, too?” she asks, hugging herself nervously.
I nod. “It’s everyone?”
Her brother is seventeen, just like her, but could easily be mistaken for a full-grown adult with his height and mass. His voice is gruff when he says, “It must be the same thing that took out those jets. Somehow, they’re doing it to the rest of the world.”
A shudder runs through my body, and I suddenly wish more than ever that I could go back to laying on that blanket on the hill, where the biggest thing I had to worry about was moving away. Maybe I should’ve realized how much of that freedom I took for granted.
“It’s all going to be okay though, right?” Cacy asks, more to herself than us. “I-I’m sure the government will find some way to turn the power back on…then…then they’ll make that spaceship go away.”
Henry places a large hand on her shoulder, and I realize that things will probably not be okay. I mean, if whatever is controlling that big thing up in the sky wanted to send a friendly message, bombing the hell out of us and then ensuring we have no way to recover sure isn’t cutting it. I don’t think their intention was ever to be friendly at all.
