The Dark Days
End of the World
Episode 1
by
Ginger Gelsheimer and Taylor Anderson
Copyright © 2013 Ginger Gelsheimer and Taylor Anderson
Published by GK Publishing
All Rights Reserved
License Notes
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The characters and events described in this book are fictional. Any resemblance or description, either in word or photographic portrayal, to any person, either living or dead, is strictly coincidental, and for reference only.
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This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons living or dead, or any similarity of events depicted herein to real life incidents, are purely coincidental.
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Dedication
Taylor, my daughter, who I’ve already declared as my sunshine, and I dedicate this Dark Days series to the most special people in our lives—our family! Mom and Dad (Grandma and Grandpa), Kristy and Stacey—two special sisters (and aunts) and our furry family Arnold, Spooky and Bitty Boo! Thank you for your patience, guidance, and love all these year!
Thank you Suzanne Collins for creating a universe that is fun to play in! I wanted to know what happened before
Thank you Hunger Games fans for giving us a chance!
Table of Contents
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Note From The Authors
There is nothing anyone can do about it. The Death Asteroid is going to hit Earth. My name is Claudia Sheeplord and I’m the reason the Games started in the first place.
Chapter 1
I’m on a plane to Denver when I see the emergency broadcast come across my tablet. Attempts to destroy the massive asteroid have failed, only making it worse by splitting it into three catastrophes. Now all I can do is to wait for it to happen.
Claustrophobia squeezes my lungs and I struggle for air. I’m also belted into an uncomfortably small seat on an airplane. There is nowhere to run. Nothing to do. Will the asteroids hit before we land? What if there is nowhere to land?
I feel a flash of anger toward my brother. It’s his fault and bright idea to have a wedding coordinated with the end of the world. Not taking any of it seriously, he and his girlfriend of only two months thought it would be fun. Hurray, NOT!
Actually, most of us didn’t take it seriously. I mean they’ve been saying the world was going to end since it began. That all changed for most people about a month ago, when the only thing you could find on the news was the “Death Asteroid," as they had named it. Dozens of scientists have been interviewed about the possible impacts if it does, by some chance, hit. Many of them agree the sea level will rise; none of them agree by how much. It could be ten feet, or it might be a thousand feet. I didn’t really pay it much attention because I thought the government could take it down before it really posed a threat. I remember thinking how amusing it was that people were letting it get to them; buying up every gallon of water on the shelf, storing gasoline for generators, boarding windows. If it really does hit, water and generators aren’t likely to save anyone.
Now things are much worse. With a failed attempt to destroy the Death Asteroid, people are flocking to airports and attempting to evacuate, especially places closer to sea level.
I guess I should be thanking my brother. Because of his crazy wedding, I’m on my way to the mile-high city. Unfortunately, it’s the middle of winter.
I browse my tablet for updates on when they think any of the three masses might strike, but the best projection I can find is sometime within twenty-four hours. I twirl the end of my ponytail around my finger. It’s something I do when I’m nervous.
Glancing across the aisle, I notice a young, freckle-faced boy with coal-black hair and emerald-green eyes. He catches me looking at him and the concern must be apparent on my face.
“Things aren’t good are they?” he asks. He sounds mature for what appears to be about a thirteen-year old. He is alone—is flying to visit his father in Vail for winter break from what I gathered by his conversation with the stewardess, who insists on checking on him every five minutes.
I force a smile, but I can’t lie. I’ve never been a liar. “No, doesn’t look like it. They weren’t able to destroy the asteroid, but they’re still trying.” I didn’t see that last part, but I’m not lying. I need to believe it, too.
“What are you building?” I ask, changing the subject. He’s been tinkering with some sort of Lego set the entire flight from Florida. His Legos are more advanced than the ones I played with as a kid younger than him. I turn twenty in a month.
The toy he’s built crawls across his tray table. “It’s a transformer. One minute it’s your pet, and then…” He twists a small piece here and a medium piece there to form a small gun before he continues, “…it’s your life saver.”
Here she comes again—the stewardess. And just as I have taken my mind off things for a second. She is three seats away from us when a thunderous boom vibrates the plane and drops us by what feels like fifty feet. A large, heavy-set man sitting next to where she stands, flies up and hits his head on the overhead compartment. He falls on top of her in the aisle, knocking her down. Not hiding her disgust, she pushes him off of her and he falls limp to the other side, unconscious.
As the stewardess tends to the injured man, I raise the window shade to take a look. The sky is dark and my stomach tightens. Has one of the asteroids just hit? My fear gets worse when I hear something sandblasting the side of the plane.
I glance at the freckled boy. His pet gun is now in pieces and scattered all over the floor. “It happened didn’t it?” he asks remarkably calm for a boy his age, in a situation like this.
Nodding my head, I confirm his fear. We both watch as a passenger helps the stewardess put the injured man, now conscious, back into his seat. She fastens his seat belt in a manner almost scolding him with harsh movements. “You stay put, you hear?” she commands as if he’s a child before she hurries to the rear galley.
“What’s your name?” the freckle-faced boy asks drawing my attention away. Strange, I think given the timing, but I am glad he didn’t ask me if we’re all going to die instead.
He reaches beneath the seat in front of him to scrape up his Legos. There’s one yellow one that has fallen under the seat in front of me. I kick it over within his reach with the toe of my flip flop. I have hiking boots in my oversized backpack for when I get to Denver. I’m rarely out of my flip flops.
“Claudia,” I reply. “What’s yours?”
“Benjamin Willoby. My friends call me Ben.”
There is something strange about this kid, but intriguing. I like him and I’m glad he’s here. Now if we all die, at least I will know someone when the moment comes. “I li
ke your name, Benjamin.”
“It’s okay, you can call me Ben,” he says with an innocent smile. “I’ll be your friend.” His smile quickly flattens, when the plane jerks and we begin a rapid descent.
I brace myself, expecting to fall into a tailspin at any moment. My knuckles are clenched so tight on the armrests, they’ve lost all color. Closing my eyes, I see my life flash before me. I don’t want to die. I just saw my life and I haven’t even lived yet. Have never been in love…haven’t finished college—actually, hardly started. I don’t even know what I want to be. Will any of it even matter now?
Just in time to save me from my own panic attack, the static over the intercom alerts me that the pilot is about to speak. “We’re real sorry about that folks. Haven’t done that one since I was a fighter pilot,” he chuckles. “No, in all seriousness, we had to rush our entry into Denver to make way for other aircraft in the area. We’ll be landing soon.”
The pilot seems far too calm for what just happened. And what exactly did happen? We felt the vibration. The sky is pitch-black now. I glance at my watch—it’s only three o’clock in the afternoon.
The sweat rolls off my brow. Thank God, we are actually going to land. I wasn’t sure for several minutes.
I turn to look at Ben and he smiles at me like we had just made friends on the playground…like our airplane hadn’t just felt like it was falling out of the sky. Did anything rattle this kid?
“Flight attendants prepare for landing,” the pilot says, as he has a million times before. I think they’ve been prepared since the first boom almost rocked us out of the sky. They don’t look near as calm as he sounds.
We land with a hard thud and several bounces. I can’t see anything but blackness outside the window. I haven’t bothered to put my shade down, never see the true point behind that, or the seatback being raised the full three inches it goes back anyway. What’s the difference?
The stewardess is on her way up the aisle. “The Captain would like for everyone to go ahead and unfasten your seat belts,” she urges people, odd because we are still moving. “Passengers on the aisles stand up and form an organized line. We must exit the plane as quickly and efficiently as possible people.”
She hustles toward the middle of the plane where we are sitting. “Go ahead, dear, unfasten your belt. I’ll escort you up to the front,” she says leaning down to Ben.
“I’ll escort him.” I volunteer before I think about what I’m doing. All I know is that I don’t want to let Ben out of my sight. “You’re busy with the rest of the passengers,” I add, throwing my backpack over my shoulder.
She looks to Ben as if to ask him if this is okay. He grabs my hand and leads us toward the front.
“Okay, everyone, I said organized,” she continues as we leave her behind.
* * * * *
When we exit the connector bridge into the airport, I’m happy to see the lights on and the walls intact. Before I even have a chance to look around, Ben and I are ushered to the right of the gate into an abnormally large crowd for an airport. It’s standing room only all the way through. Has none of these people made their flights out?
On one of the big screens suspended from the ceiling, there is a news broadcast of something going on in the ocean. With the roar of chatter coming from all sides, I can’t hear what they’re saying, and I can’t see the info banner at the bottom of the screen because of all the heads blocking my view.
Then as I turn to survey my surroundings, I nearly smack into him. “Oh, sorry,” I apologize moving quickly out of his way. This is the first time I ever see Dorian Lennox. He’s emotionless from the start, with his dark sunglasses, black suit and tunnel-vision mission. Amazon in size, he looks like he could play for the NFL.
He speaks into his walkie-talkie, “Yes, sir, I understand… at seventeen hundred hours. Our estimates are just over fifty thousand.” He is fast on his mission. “Our runways are already beyond capacity, we can’t accommodate anymore.” That’s all I hear before he’s out of earshot.
We’re being herded farther away from the gate, somewhere towards who knows where. There is virtually no room to move, especially when you’re two. It doesn’t matter though. I’m not leaving Ben behind.
“This way people, this way,” a TSA agent directs us to follow her. “You.” She motions to a young girl with pink hair and a pierced eyebrow. “No bathroom right now.” She waves the girl toward her. “Stay with me people.”
Everyone is talking at once, trying to figure out how to meet the loved ones who are waiting for them outside security. For some reason, they don’t appear to be letting anyone out.
Many of the travelers have already lined the major corridors throughout the airport, taking prime seats against the walls. Some are sleeping. How odd to sleep at a time like this. From the looks of it, the airport has been a mess for awhile.
I feel sorry for Ben—he’s very short. I guess he hasn’t hit his growth spurt yet if he’s ever going to. I know he can’t see a thing going on.
I squeeze his hand gently. “Stay with me, I’ll help you get to your dad.”
All I have to do is get through the wall of people in front of me. I try to squeeze us through one person at a time. It takes nearly ten minutes just to carve the two of us through five people. It’s useless. There’s no way we’re getting to the tram that takes us to the main terminal. At least not for awhile.
I look around for a space we can carve out and not have people standing on top of us. Nothing. And more people are piling in by the minute.
Dorian walks by us again. His composure isn’t quite as cool and collected this time. “No, they can’t land—the runways are full. Send them somewhere else!”
I glance out the one window I can actually see out of despite the crowd. Outside, planes are crammed together across the airport grounds like sardines in a can.
Ben pulls me toward an “Employee Only” door and nods for me to follow him.
Except for trying to find our way out, which isn’t proving to be possible, I don’t have any other ideas. I follow him down a few levels of stairs, where we come to a short hallway that leads to a mechanical room.
It doesn’t seem like this is going to take us anywhere, yet he continues on. “What are we going to do down here?” I ask.
Ben fumbles around the room picking up objects here and there, giving them a quick inspection. He puts a few back down, and another few into a small pack around his waist. It’s lime-green and practically glows.
I motion to his pack and the things he’s just lifted. “What are you doing?”
“If the end of the world’s coming, thought we could use some tools,” he says with complete confidence while adding a screwdriver and a small can of WD 40 to his pack.
I want to tell him that I don’t believe a screwdriver and some oil are going to make much difference, but if the kid can go out thinking he can be a hero, who am I to stand in his way? I pick up a pair of pliers and stick them in my backpack.
Suddenly, he zones in on something behind me like an owl that’s just spotted its dinner. I jump out of the way when he darts in my direction. Feeling around the wall with his hands, he’s searching looking for something, eyeing the ceiling and then inspecting the floor.
Ben’s in such a world of his own, I don’t want to interrupt him, but I feel like a waste of space not doing anything when he’s obviously excited about something.
“Can I help?” I ask. “What are you looking-”
Before I can finish, he’s found it. The false wall opens up into a maze of corridors fingering off in various directions.
We follow the widest corridor, which we find out quickly, leads us to the tracks of the trams that run between the concourses and the main terminal.
The kid is brilliant! We can follow the tracks to the terminal and bypass the masses that stood in our way up above.
“You’re a genius, kid,” I say with a smile.
“You’re a genius, Ben,” he says wit
h quite the serious expression.
I feel bad I had just referred to him as a kid. I hated that when I was his age. “You’re right, I’m sorry. You’re a genius, Ben!”
He holds his hand out to me. I shake with him, knowing at that very moment I am sticking with him until the end. Whatever end that may turn out to be?
We listen for a good fifteen minutes to see if the trams are still running. Silence. Almost silence, there’s nothing but a small drip from a leaky pipe somewhere.
“We would have heard it by now,” I say. I hope I’m right.
He nods in agreement.
I love the little pinwheels that spin along the walls as we make our way through the tunnel. Even though we have the entire track, we both hug the left wall as we walk along. It seems to have more room than the right, just in case.
We can see that we’ve made it to the “B” station when it opens up to the tram waiting area. Hearing the commotion and chaos running amuck above us in the concourse, we head toward the tunnel that will lead us to the “A” station.
We take two steps inside and things get much, much worse. The vibration is so volatile; it blows us off our feet.
Chapter 2
I roll over and immediately look for any sign of Ben. Black smoke is drifting through our tunnel. Another blast. And another. Something is causing massive explosions above.
The lights were always dim in the tunnel, but now they only flicker. Another explosion and they fade into black. What is going on up there?
“Ben?” I call out. “Ben, are you okay?”
I hear him moan his answer, “I think so. Just hit my head.” Another blast rumbles through the tunnel.
“Still?” I ask.
“Still.”
I’m relieved. I don’t know what it is about Ben, but I feel the need to protect him. Expecting more explosions, I figure it’s best to stay put where we are for a few minutes and see if the blasts are done. “Stay there for a second,” I urge.
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