Dust to Dust: An Apocalyptic Thriller

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Dust to Dust: An Apocalyptic Thriller Page 12

by Bridget Bundy


  “I have to use the restroom,” Erika announces.

  “Okay,” Michael says. “This is a good place to take a break.”

  Not wanting to waste any more time, I reply, “We’re too close to Ashburn. I want to keep going.”

  “The building is right there. It won’t take me long.”

  “I’ll go with you.” How thoughtful of him. If that were me, he’d wait out here in the street. “Aren’t you coming with us?”

  “No, Michael, I’ll be fine.”

  “I only have this one gun. It’s best if you stick with us.”

  “I said I’ll be fine.”

  The two new couple walk together into the parking lot. I lay back on the grass and look up at the sky. Dust floats on a warm blowing wind. Fat clouds in the atmosphere linger where they are.

  Gabe comes to mind. The absolute love of my life. I think today is Friday. Right now, I would be driving to his house to spend the weekend with him. He’ll want to go to the gym. He’s been working on a new exercise routine for football players, and I’m usually the guinea pig. Not that I’m big and muscular like those guys, but it gives Gabe a chance to see how well the muscles react and if the position is safe. He keeps a notebook with him, writing down ideas so he won’t forget.

  I want him to marry me, but with the world in upheaval, I don’t think that’ll happen. No one gets engaged during an apocalypse, and who in their right mind would want to have kids when the chances of living are reduced even for a fully grown adult?

  Suddenly, I understand why Michael has asked Erika to come with us, and why the extra effort to convince her. I told him that he would be alone in the bunker. Michael wouldn’t have a wife to spend his free time with, but his friends would. Being alone for the rest of his life isn’t a goal he wanted, and he saw an opportunity with Erika.

  I can’t say I blame him. She is a pretty lady. She’s thin and young, probably in her mid-twenties. Most importantly, she’s a widow and available. She has long wavy jet black hair. Dark brown eyes set apart evenly. A long pointy nose aligns above thin lips. How could he let such a pretty woman go and not try to keep her?

  They finally return. Erika giggles, touches his arm. Her smile makes him glow. Michael likes that he can make her laugh. I am happy for him, but there’s always that hidden seed of doubt with anyone new, no matter the circumstances in which people meet. She could be the best person to come along in Michael’s life, and then again, she might turn out to be a horrible choice.

  “We’re ready to go, Sis. Are you sure you don’t want to take a bathroom break? The door to the building isn’t locked.”

  “And the bathrooms were clean,” Erika says.

  “I’m good. Thanks for thinking about me.”

  We head up the exit ramp to the toll road. Cars are where they stalled, just like every road we’ve been on so far. There’s no one walking around. I’m used to not seeing individuals. It’s kind of not that bad. About this time of day, the toll road would be full of motorists, speeding to get to destinations, like the buildings themselves are going to fly away if they don’t get there at a particular time. There would be construction zones and guys in bright yellow vests. This area, Northern Virginia, is the global capital for cones using up more lanes than any other two states combined, and no one can tell me different. The only time the constructions zones are not in the way is during rush hour, and rush hour can be hell, exhausting actually. One of the many reasons I lived and worked in Richmond. There’s traffic down there, but not like up here.

  “Kris, you’re quiet,” Erika replies from out of nowhere, and oddly in a happy tone. “What’s on your mind?”

  “Not a thing.”

  “Michael tells me we’re going to your boyfriend’s house.”

  “Yep.”

  “Where does he live?”

  “Off of Claiborne Parkway.”

  “What is it he does for a living? Or used to do?”

  “He’s a professional trainer.”

  “Bet he’s a buff guy and handsome.”

  “In a caveman kind of way.” My attempt at downplaying his looks, so she won’t be interested.

  “Where did you two meet?”

  “At a party in Washington DC. A friend invited me. He was there. We talked, and we’ve been hitting it off ever since.”

  “I met my husband at a wedding. He was already married, but he was separated from his wife. Don’t want you to think bad of me. I’m not a homewrecker.”

  “Hey, it’s not for me to judge.”

  “Jared was the best man. We dated for two years. When his divorce became final, we tied the knot, had a big wedding, over two hundred guests. We had two duchesses, a former first lady, and a lot of celebrity friends that showed up. We were the talk of Washington DC, and believe it or not, I was on the cover of a magazine because of who designed my wedding dress. You probably read about it.”

  “Ah, no.”

  “That’s too bad. Anyway, can you say an arm, two legs, and a half pint of blood to pay for that wedding? At the least, we spent thirty thousand dollars.”

  “On a wedding?”

  “Worth every penny. My wedding dress was fifteen.”

  “Fifteen dollars,” I reply with raised eyebrows. “That’s a steal.”

  “No,” Erika laughs. “I mean fifteen thousand dollars.”

  I know what she meant. I can’t even begin to understand why she’s bragging about it now.

  “The dress was gathered at the shoulders with a plunging neckline, and it was made from organza and lace. He added a shimmering cummerbund, and it really set off the dress. I thought it sounded tacky at first, but when I tried it on with all the pieces in place, I could not believe how gorgeous it looked on me. I always believed that the dress was worth twice as much, but I think he gave me a fifty percent discount because he liked my husband. He was gay. Have you ever heard of the designer Adrian Ronda?”

  “No.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Yes, I’m very serious,” I plainly answer.

  “Ah, you missed out on the finer things in life. Adrian Ronda designed wedding gowns only for the uber-wealthy. I felt like a goddess in that dress. I didn’t want to take it off. Have you ever been married, Kris?”

  “No.”

  “How old are you? Your biological clock must be howling.”

  She has some nerve. Michael laughs as if what she said was funny.

  “My sister has kids. You’re not missing a thing. Those things poop, pee, talk back at you, and mess up your house. I never let them come over. They’re worse than dogs.”

  I look at Michael. I think he’s enjoying her.

  “Jared was a tech guy, invented a few gaming apps, owns an online game company. Very successful. Have you heard of Herobitbot?”

  “No.”

  “That was the name of the company. We were beginning to make huge strides in the industry. Jared brought me in as an accountant. Sometimes I’d test the new products with the other beta players. He had some fascinating ideas for new online games. If only he had the chance. I believe we would have been billionaires one day.”

  “Great.”

  Erika yaps on and on.

  After a while, I have to walk ahead to give myself a noise break. She won’t stop, even when I blatantly make a smart remark. No matter what I say, the deeper meaning goes up and beyond her scope of understanding. She has no clue that I don’t want to hear about her privileged life.

  But something does silence her. We all see it, a strange but horrifying sight. An entire area to the left of the toll road is scorched with airplane pieces strewn everywhere. The trees and shrubs, no longer natural barriers between the toll road and the runway, are cinders from the cataclysmic crash. A partial wing sticks up from the wreckage. Human body parts, some still seat belted in their chairs, are on the road and the other side of the highway. Remarkably, despite the devastation, the toll road is intact.

  “That’s not right,” Erika says.


  It’s more than not right. It’s sad. No one will claim these dead bodies or clean up the wreckage. There will be no funerals to memorialize. This is what humankind is reduced to, a point where we can’t truly respect those that have passed on.

  “Yesterday,” Erika says, “I was told National and Dulles airports were gone. The lightning spaceships turned them to dirt. It’s one of the first things the aliens did when they attacked.”

  “Who told you?” Michael asks.

  “A guy named Andre. He walked with Jared and me for a while. When he got to Vienna, that’s where we departed. He was home. He had a wife and three daughters. I was really happy for him.”

  She’s on a tangent. Instead of entertaining everything that comes to her mind, I walk away, carefully choosing my path through the debris field.

  The next few miles are uneventful. Seeds make appearances, blazing off towards destinations unknown to us. Rods silently slide across the sky. All of them are heading west. They hold their payload, I presume, until they get to an area they want to destroy. The swarm that consumed the homes back in Chantilly must have come from a Rod. It makes sense. The first and only time we saw them was after the appearance of the new spaceship. Something else to add to my sketchbook when I have the time.

  After a while, we reach the sign I’ve been impatient to see. EXIT 5, 901 Claiborne Parkway, Ashburn, Broadlands, ½ mile. I’ve been on the toll road many times, and that sign never gets old. We are so close to Gabe’s house.

  I take off running. Michael calls after me. I ignore him. We’ve been on the road for three days, and we are so close I can taste the brick of Gabe’s house. I can smell his cologne. See his brown eyes and his smile. I’ve missed him so much. I’m not walking to my man. No way. I’m running to him.

  The street he lives on is a cul-de-sac. If I were driving, I would have to get on Claiborne Parkway and take the first right. But since I’m not, I can cut through the woods off the exit, and it’ll take me directly to the street he lives on.

  When I come out of the trees into the residential area, every house is intact. Gabe’s New American styled home is three properties down on the right hand side. His car is in the driveway.

  I’m so excited. I run to the door and knock. I call his name. The door swings open. Gabe’s father is in the entry in his wheelchair.

  “Mr. Resnik, you’re here?”

  “And so are you,” he says.

  I hug him. I can’t help but to be glad to see him too.

  “You made it all the way from Richmond,” he chuckles. “How did you do that?”

  “Luck. A lot of luck. Where is Gabe? Is he here?”

  “I’m right here.” That deep voice. I know it anywhere. He stands just beyond the foyer in the great room. He’s surprised to see me.

  I run to him and wrap my arms around his neck. Gabe has the familiar light scent of citrus and musk. This moment is true. It’s real.

  “I can’t believe you made it all the way up here.” He touches my cheeks, smiling, amazed, gorgeous as ever. “You couldn’t have drove. How is it possible?”

  “Michael and I walked.”

  “You did? That must have taken a long time. Where is your brother now?”

  “Right here.” Michael comes through the door behind Erika. He doesn’t hide his disappointment that Gabe is alive. Funny how having someone is good for him but not good for me.

  I pay no attention to my brother. Seeing Gabe is the reason for all my effort. Everything we went through was worth it. Well, some of it.

  C H A P T E R

  28

  Ashburn, Virginia

  Gabe and I are finally together. A single candlelight illuminates the room. He holds my hands and stares at me as if I’m a shiny new object. That’s how he makes me feel every time I see him. His joy in me is glorious, more valuable than pure gold, than the Hope Diamond itself.

  “You made it,” Gabe says, still amazed. “How long did it take you?”

  “Three long days.”

  “You walked the whole way?”

  “We found bicycles once we were out of Richmond on the second day, but we ran into problems in Chantilly. We had to abandon them.”

  “What kind of problems?”

  “It’s over, and I don’t want to rehash it all. We made it. That’s all that matters.”

  “I wanted you to stay in Richmond. It would have been safer.”

  “I know, but you know Michael wasn’t going to listen. When he wants to do something, he pretty much does it.”

  “You could have been hurt.”

  “But I wasn’t. I’m here with you in one piece.”

  “Yes, you are. Thank God. And now that you’re here, we’ll have to make a few changes. My dad keeps the master suite because of the wheelchair. Michael and…I don’t think I was introduced to his friend.”

  “Her name is Erika Herriot.”

  “Herriot?”

  “You know her?”

  “Krissy, the last name isn’t common. She must be married or a sister to Jared Herriot.”

  “You know her husband?” I ask, a little on the surprise side. “How?”

  “He owned a bigtime video game company. He started off with one title. The game was simple, but it was addictive. Actually, I thought it was clever. You had to…” Gabe finally notices I’m not interested in the finer details of Herriot’s golden empire. I heard enough of it from his wife. “Never mind, I forgot you’re not into video games. As I was saying, Michael and Erika can sleep in the other room, or Michael can sleep in the great room, and she can have the bedroom. By the way, where is Jared Herriot?”

  “He’s dead.”

  “That’s too bad. I would have liked to meet him.” Then something pops into Gabe’s mind. “When did he die?”

  “Today.”

  “And she’s already cozying up to your brother?”

  “She doesn’t waste time.”

  “No, she doesn’t. Well, anyway, I thought that with all of us under one roof, we could make this work. We’d have to make supply runs. Food eventually will be harder to find. We would have to garden, hunt, stuff like that.”

  “Do we have to talk about that now?” I rub his arm. Kiss his neck gently. “I missed you, Gabe. I missed you so much.”

  “I can’t even tell.”

  I hit his arm playfully. He laughs and sweeps me onto the bed.

  “You know what?” he says after kissing me.

  “No, what?”

  “How about you take a shower because, you know, I hate to tell you this, but you smell like…”

  “I haven’t had a bath in three days.”

  “No, I wasn’t going to say that.”

  “But that’s what you were thinking. Just so you know, I had a bath this morning. Well, a wipe down. Got all the important girly parts.” I hop off the bed. “Don’t go anywhere.”

  “I’ll be right here, love, waiting for you.”

  I discover there are a pro and a con to taking a shower during the apocalypse. The water won’t get hot, obviously a con. The feeling of squeaky clean after can’t be compared, a pro. Honestly, I’m surprised there is running water, especially after the things I’ve seen.

  When I finish my shower, I take a minute to revel in being in a home. I could stay in this house forever with Gabe, but the truth that’s out in the world won’t allow that to happen. I hate to break the bad news to him, but he won’t be able to stay in this house. I just don’t know for how long.

  We’ll talk more after our moment of shared bliss. I must have his skin next to mine. How I missed having him so close. Three days it took me to reach the absolute love of my life.

  I come out of the bathroom wearing a towel, only to find Gabe not in the bedroom. I hurry to put on my clothes. I see him, talking to Erika in the great room. Michael and Mr. Resnik are on the back deck. All of a sudden, I feel like the unwelcomed fifth wheel, who has no place in this house. Now I’m pissed.

  C H A P T E R
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  29

  Gabe announces that he has beef stew on the stove. I’m definitely hungry, but I crave him more. I have to settle for the food instead since he’s not interested. Gabe is having a geek-out session with Erika about her time at Herobitbot.

  Michael is on the deck at the picnic table, holding the bowl in one hand, spoon shoveling with the other. All the while, he’s keeping an eye on the sky. There’s not much to see with the vanishing sun and the sky-touching pine trees. Since my boyfriend isn’t trying to talk to me, I join my brother out on the deck.

  “Why don’t you go inside and eat?” I ask.

  “We have to keep an eye out for those new spaceships. They’re the ones that have been dropping those devices or creatures that destroy buildings.”

  “What are you talking about?” Mr. Resnik asks.

  Michael looks at me, realizing we have a blaring problem on our hands. Mr. Resnik is in a wheelchair, and if we have to leave in a hurry, it’s going to be hard moving the old man. He has wheels but pushing him too fast could make him fall out of the chair. He could be injured and unable to move any farther.

  Mr. Resnik sees the fright, but he doesn’t seem to be bothered by our fear.

  “Might as well tell me,” he calmly replies.

  “There are devices that eat away at buildings,” Michael answers. “They totally destroy them within seconds, leaving only dust.”

  “Those aliens are not playing around, are they?”

  “No, sir, they are not.”

  “How much longer before they reach this neighborhood?”

  “I don’t know,” Michael answers. “It could be at any moment.”

  “Where did you last see them?”

  “Earlier today in Chantilly, not far from Centreville Road. It took those things no longer than a minute to devour a single family home completely.”

  “It appears we’re not as safe as I thought.”

  “Unfortunately, sir.”

  Mr. Resnik sighs, left hand trembling uncontrollably. He honestly doesn’t seem too concerned, and that worries me.

 

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