Dust to Dust: An Apocalyptic Thriller

by Bridget Bundy

  I push Michael off, drop the gym bag, and run as fast as I can across the road. Behind me, I can hear Michael screaming my name. Explosions quickly drown out his voice. I trip on my own feet, and when I try to get up, I see another small spaceship coming in. I huddle down and cover my head. Metallic whining gets louder. Lightning hits so close to me that I’m knocked away from the blast. Dirt and grass rain down. I stand up, hoping to get out of there, but I can’t see from the dust cloud. I feel hands on my back. Thank goodness, it’s Michael.

  Another spaceship zooms close to the ground, letting loose a barrage of red lightning, destroying everything and anything in its path. Michael says something, but I can’t hear him from the ringing in my ears. I tremble from the noise of war, the chaotic sights, and the smell of destruction.

  I cling on to Michael as he leads us out of harm’s way. I’m not sure which way we’re going, but it seems like the spaceships are everywhere. They’re firing on every building in the area, transforming them into powder. A group of people huddle near a restaurant. Lightning strikes near them. Dust and body parts explode. Those that survive run for their lives.

  Wherever Michael goes, I’m right with him. Even in all this confusion, he seems to know where he’s going. We head down a side road. In his sights are a patch of woods. Of course, we found safety in the same kind of area back near Richmond when the aliens first arrived. They weren’t firing at the natural foliage, just people and manmade objects.

  I hear footsteps behind us. More soldiers run towards the fight. Rapid fire erupts in quick succession. That dreadful crackle kicks up a notch. The ships lay waste to them too. Dear god, another spaceship is coming. Maybe more. I can hear them approaching.

  Michael and I make it to the woods, fighting our way through unforgiving tangled branches. In the cover, we hunker down. The earth quakes from the blasts. The soldiers are outmatched. Their screams tell of their defeat.

  Soon, silence falls. But the heat swelters and the smell of electrocuted bodies overwhelm.

  “C’mon,” Michael whispers.

  We continue through the thick woods, making a new path. We find areas of open parking lots, small businesses, and homes. It’s not long before we’re back on Brook Road, but farther north. We can hear the spaceships still laying waste. I’ve heard enough and experienced too much. Felt more horror than a person should in a lifetime. I run, keeping to the edge of the trees until the spaceships are out of view.

  I find a clearing, where I plant myself behind a row of bush. I cover my eyes and cry, thankful to be alive but scared I came so close to death. Michael joins me, wrapping his big arm around my shoulder.

  How did we get to this point?

  C H A P T E R

  8

  Glen Allen, Virginia

  “Drink.” Michael shoves water at me. “You have to hydrate.”

  “Why did we have to get so close!” I hit the bottle out of his hands. It rolls onto the gravel.

  “I wasn’t thinking.”

  “You could have gotten us killed! I almost died! Do you get that? Do you understand?”

  “We won’t do that again.” He grabs the water off the ground. “Please, it’s hot out here, and you have to stay hydrated.”

  This time I take it and gulp down half. The water tastes like heaven. Thirsty for more, I continue to drink.

  “Sis, take it slow.”

  After finishing, I close my burning eyes. On a typical day, I’d take alcohol, coffee, soda, or tea over water. Right now, the water is better than all of it.

  “Do you feel better?”

  “Never said anything was wrong,” I snap at him. “I’m still angry at you, though.”

  “You have every right to be.”

  “I’ve never been so close to dying. How am I supposed to handle that? How am I supposed to…” I can’t even finish what I have to say.

  “You’re still alive. You’re breathing. You made it.”

  “It’s just I’ve never been through anything like that before.”

  “I know. I know.”

  “Michael…”

  “Listen to me, Kris. I can’t promise it’s going to be cake from here on out, but I will do all I can to keep us out of trouble. Just don’t lose it on me. We got a long way to go. I need you to stay strong.”

  Easy for him to say. We were running from spaceships that kill with lightning. Buildings transformed into fine powder. People disintegrated. That moment will stay with me for the rest of my life, chipping at my psyche even when I’m not thinking about it.

  Damn it.

  I want my daily routine back. I want to wake up tomorrow morning and go to work. I want to sit in fucking traffic and blow my horn. I want to greet my coworkers and roll my eyes at the rumors they couldn’t wait to tell me.

  “I wish there was a pill that will erase my memories,” I reply, mostly to myself.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I still hear the screaming in my head. I can smell dead bodies. I see the spaceships firing on them and on me. How in the hell do I forget?”

  Michael won’t answer because he can’t.

  “When does this end?” I ask with aggravation.

  “When we get home.”

  C H A P T E R

  9

  Michael throws on his backpack. My gym bag is long gone. I regret leaving that behind, but I had no choice. It would have slowed me down, and I could have gotten killed. Michael already heads for the path along Brook Road. Tired and aching, I drag behind him.

  “Hey!” The voice comes from behind us. A soldier, covered with dust, jogs our way with his hands up.

  “You alright?” Michael asks him.

  “You got water?”

  “Sure.” Michael hands two bottles of water from his backpack.

  The soldier drinks a whole one and half of the second, using the rest to clean his face. The water only makes mud of the dirt. It cakes on his eyelashes and eyebrows. He takes off his uniform shirt and wipes his face clean.

  “Thanks, man. Appreciate it.”

  “Where’s your unit?”

  I have no idea why Michael would ask that question. It’s more than apparent that they didn’t make it, or they would be with him.

  “Back there. Whatever you do, don’t go that way. The aliens are tearing up the whole area.”

  “Where you from?” Michael asks.

  “Fredericksburg.”

  “Army?”

  “National Guard.”

  “Why was your unit all the way down here?”

  “We were called up two days ago. Got word about a possible invasion. We were ordered to head to Richmond and secure the capital. The convoy I was with got out late. We were supposed to rendezvous with the rest of the unit at Bryan Park. We made it as far as Wilkinson, right off of Brook Road. Don’t know if they made it.”

  “Have you seen the rods?” I ask.

  “The Macemp? Yeah, those things killed everything.”

  “Why do you call the rod a Macemp?” I ask.

  “It’s shaped like a mace, and it’s an EMP device. I put the two together.” The soldier jumps at the explosion down the road. Fire flicks high above the trees.

  I start walking. I’m not sticking around to see what else happens.

  Following us, the soldier asks, “Where are you guys headed?”

  “None of your business,” Michael answers quickly. “You should get back to your unit. They could use your help with the wounded.”

  “There is no wounded. Those damn things turned all my friends to…to…”

  “Dust,” I complete his sentence.

  The soldier is surprised I know the answer. Then he notices our clothes are dirty, remnants of the attack. “You two were there? You saw what happened?”

  “Yes,” I answer.

  “Have you ever seen anything like it before? They can control lightning, and they didn’t miss. How is that possible?”

  “Hey,” Michael interrupts us, “you d
o realize, while you’re yapping your gums, you abandoned your unit. Someone could use your help.”

  “We fired rockets at those things, man. A direct hit. Do you know what happened? Nothing. Not even a dent or scraped paint. That’s all we managed to do was piss them off. They started coming at us, and they took us out easy. I’m the sole survivor. I’m not going back so they can finish the job.”

  “Then you’re a deserter.”

  Taking his comment as a threat, The soldier strides towards Michael. My brother stands his ground. They’re face to face, both the same height, silently challenging one another. Michael is not as big as the soldier, but he’s not intimidated.

  “Who the fuck are you to call me a deserter?”

  “I was a Staff Sergeant in the Army,” Michael calmly begins, “Served for eleven years before I retired. I was on the ground in Afghanistan, at the DMZ in South Korea, and did my due in Somalia. What have you done other than run from a battle on home soil?”

  The soldier, literally with mud on his face, backs off.

  “Go back to your unit and do what’s right.”

  “I might as well shoot myself in the head.”

  “At least, you won’t be a deserter.”

  “Michael, let’s just go. It’s his life, not yours.”

  My brother eyeballs the soldier with disdain one last time before walking away.

  “Good luck,” I remark.

  “Can I come with you guys?”

  “Hell no,” Michael yells over his shoulder.

  “I can’t go back, man!”

  The soldier follows us anyway. Michael picks up the pace. Too tired to keep up, I go at a slower speed. Plus, I don’t want to leave the soldier behind. He stays about a yard away the whole time but keeps looking over his shoulder, watching for spaceships. He has me nervous, and now, I’m doing the same thing.

  Since the soldier is sort of with us, I have questions. He said a couple of things that don’t seem to fit what I’ve heard and seen. No longer caring what my brother wants, I wait for the soldier. The guy lights up and rushes to me but keeps a comfortable distance.

  “What’s your name?” I ask him.

  “Reggie Goodman. You can call me Goodie.”

  “Kris.”

  He shakes my hand. His palm is unexpectedly soft.

  “I was wondering why you call that rod a Macemp. You described how you got the name, but I don’t understand how it looks like a mace.”

  “You’re thinking about a can of mace used for protection. I’m talking about a club, or it can look like a ceremonial staff.”

  “Never heard of the name used like that before.”

  “You’ve probably seen one. Just didn’t know it.”

  “You also mentioned that your unit contacted you two days ago.”

  “Yep.”

  “The aliens didn’t appear until early this morning. Sounds like the Army already knew the aliens were close to Earth for several days.”

  “I’m with the National Guard, not the United States Army. There’s a difference there. But going back to what you’re saying, the government probably knew about the invasion for days, maybe months. But I would be the last to know.”

  “Were you told about the aliens two days ago?”

  “Not a word.”

  “What did you think you were protecting Richmond from?”

  “The Russians,” Goodie laughs. “The Koreans. I had no clue. I just did as I was told.”

  “Why did you guys go to the shopping center?”

  “Couple of soldiers went up there to get water. They came back and reported what they saw.”

  “The spaceships?” I ask.

  “Yep. They took pictures, just in case we didn’t believe them.”

  “Why did your unit attack the spaceships?”

  “Because we were following orders.”

  “Who gave the orders?”

  “My platoon leader. He said that they were a direct threat to the United States and it was our duty to protect our country. Dude was a fuck-up. Excuse my language, but it’s the truth.”

  “It’s okay. I say a few choice words myself sometimes.”

  Goodie chuckles and continues, “Anyway, it was the dumbest decision he ever made. Got the whole unit killed. Those guys have families at home waiting for them, and thanks to him, they’re gone.”

  “I’m sorry about your friends.”

  “Thanks, but you got nothing to be sorry about.”

  “Have you been able to get in touch with your family?”

  “Not since everything went down. Hey, does your phone work?”

  “No,” I answer.

  From the tension in Michael’s shoulders, I can tell our conversation bothers him. He wants Goodie to return to his unit. I don’t understand why my brother is worked up. Michael went through the same thing as Goodie, and he knows what’s at stake. We’re all lucky to survive the attack. Hundreds of people must have died back there.

  “How long have you lived in Fredericksburg?” I ask, keeping the conversation light.

  “I moved there a few years ago. I can’t remember when.”

  “Are you married?” I ask only out of curiosity, not because he’s cute.

  Goodie is the type of ordinary guy I’d find in a hardware store searching for bolts and washers. He’s not overweight, but he’s not lean, too flabby to be muscular, nor is he faint-worthy sexy. I could have a beer with him and listen to him talk about football stats. He’d be a buddy I can joke with and be myself.

  Goodie shows his wedding ring. “Three years. Is he your husband?”

  “Who? Michael?”

  “Yeah, I mean, you two are together.”

  “No, he’s my brother.”

  “Do you have kids?”

  “No.”

  “I guess you’d have them with you if you did,” he replies. “You’re a pretty lady. I’m surprised some guy hasn’t married you yet.”

  “Save the games!” Michael chimes in. “You don’t have a chance.”

  “Just being nice, man.”

  “Ignore him,” I respond, with a wave of my hand. “My brother doesn’t like anyone I date or have a harmless conversation with.”

  “You two don’t look alike, not that all brothers and sisters resemble each other. I’m just saying. You two are different.”

  “He’s prettier, right?”

  Goodie laughs and points at me. “Ah, funny and quick.”

  “She’s out of your league, pal!” Michael has now stopped walking. “How about you keep the flirting to yourself.”

  “I wasn’t flirting. I’m being nice. There’s a difference.”

  “Look, AWOL, why don’t you do the right thing?”

  “What is the right thing?”

  “You go back to your buddies and check for survivors. You collect dog tags. You pay your respects. You find your commanding officer and get ready to do whatever is required of you as a soldier.”

  “Dude, I don’t mean any harm, but this isn’t Afghanistan. Those aliens aren’t shooting bullets, and they’re not strapped to bombs. Every soldier in my unit was killed with one blow from a single spaceship. There were no clothes left behind, no teeth, no hair, and definitely no dog tags. I mean, fucking for real, I would go back but to what? There’s nothing or nobody to go back to. Dust to dust, man. All of them.”

  Michael knows he’s right, and I can see the hard shell softening.

  “Okay,” my brother replies, finally giving in to what I think makes perfect sense. “You don’t have to explain anymore.”

  “Good. Now, I know you don’t want me around, but I swear on my daddy’s grave, I won’t be a problem. Honestly, man, we could help each other.”

  “We don’t need your help, AWOL.”

  “Wish you wouldn’t call me that.”

  “You earned it.”

  “Alright, whatever. So what do you say?”

  Michael does not want this guy with us. If he did, he would have agreed
upfront. Instead, my brother stares at him as if he’s a total pain in the ass. I know that look because I’ve gotten it many times myself.

  “Tell you what, AWOL, I’m going to let you know right now. If you become a problem, I’ll kill you.”

  “I’m a good old soul, man. I’m never a problem for anyone.”

  “Okay, but no flirting with my sister. You’re married, and she’s too good for you.”

  “Oh my god, Michael, I am an adult, and I can speak for myself.” Shaking my head at his stupid conditions, I walk ahead.

  At least now, there’s an unspoken truce.

  C H A P T E R

  10

  The early afternoon stroll becomes more relaxed, and Goodie will not stop talking. We find out that he’s a mailman. His wife is a substitute teacher. He has five kids under the age of ten. The mother of the oldest two is in jail. She was charged with conspiracy to commit murder. In other words, she paid a hitman to kill Goodie but unknowingly paid an undercover cop. She kept telling her friends how much she hated him and her plans to get rid of him. The woman that snitched to the police, one of her friends, is the same person he ended up marrying. Anyone who doesn’t know about Goodie and his girlfriend would think he’s lying, but his story is true. I remember hearing on the news about a murder for hire in Fredericksburg. Never thought I’d meet the guy.

  “Amber Goodman,” Michael recalls. “She was your wife?”

  “No, she was not. We had two kids together.”

  “Why she tried to kill you?”

  “Insane. Crazy. Out of control. Pick one.”

  “None of those are answers,” Michael says.

  “They are. All of ‘em.”

  “How much time did she get?”

  “Seven years, man. The lawyer thinks the judge gave her the minimum sentence because she hadn’t committed a criminal act her whole life. Do you think they’ll let her out now with everything that’s going on?”