Everyday Apocalypse: Season Two

by Pieter Lars

  Delivery Prime’s eyes lit with red light. Lasers flashed, their beams widening as the mecha scanned Gamera. It spoke with a deep robotic voice that echoed through the canyon:

  <<<>>>

  Gamera stared at the mecha, blinked, then let out a roar.

  <<<>>>

  Gamera swiped with one of its arms and Delivery Prime stepped nimbly out of the way.

  <<<>>>

  Gamera roared and breathed a long gout of flame. Delivery Prime held its ground, letting the flame wash over it until the edges of its armor glowed red.

  <<<>>

  Prime took a step back, raised its right arm, and drew its sword. The blade flickered with blue light.

  The crowd around Tom roared with excitement. Tom looked over to see Samantha looking back at him, her eyes wide.

  “It’s the drone!” She shouted.

  He nodded and grinned.

  “Wow! Those are some serious upgrades!”

  They turned to watch the battle. The crowd pressed in on them from behind, everyone trying to get a better look, but Tom didn’t mind. This was like that time when he was a kid and his Grandpa took him to Wrestlemania.

  Gamera struck first. The kaiju leapt forward, crashing its body into the mecha before Prime had a chance to react. Prime’s sword fell from its grasp as both kaiju and mecha tumbled to the ground.

  Gamera bit and clawed. Prime punched and kicked. They crashed into the canyon walls, breaking off huge chunks of red rock.

  Prime punched once, twice, breaking off one of Gamera’s tusks. Gamera grasped a bundle of tubes that connected Prime’s left arm with its chest. The kaiju pulled. Sparks flew and Prime sounded a distressed warble.

  The mecha pulled away, its left arm hanging limp at its side.

  Gamera scrabbled back on all fours and breathed another gout of flame. Prime turned and ducked its head, shielding its exposed wiring from the flame.

  The mecha turned and reached for its fallen sword. It picked it up and turned to strike Gamera retreated back into its shell. The blade glanced harmlessly off the chitinous armor.

  Prime lifted the sword to strike again and when it did Gamera burst from its shell and tackled the mecha back to the ground, sending the sword spinning away yet again.

  Prime lashed out with its good arm, connecting with Gamera’s face and breaking off a few more of the kaiju’s fangs. In response, Gamera swung around and drove its remaining tusk into the side of Prime’s helmet.

  Prime jerked and its body went rigid. The red light shining through its visor blinked and went dark. Gamera pulled back and its tusk slid from the side of Prime’s head, bringing with it pieces of circuit board and sparking wires.

  <<<>>>

  The crowd gasped. Samantha gripped Tom’s arm.

  “No!” she shouted. “You got this, little drone! Take him out!”

  Prime turned its head slowly from side to side, as if trying to scan its surroundings. A little compartment opened up from the top of its head and a tiny satellite dish emerged. The dish spun around on its axis, letting out little beeps.

  <<<>>>

  Gamera struck again, knocking the satellite dish off Prime’s head, sending it clanging against the canyon walls. The kaiju reared up, raised its arms over its head and brought them down.

  Prime’s chest plate popped open, revealing a glowing reactor. The reactor pulsed, sending a wave of energy in every direction. The wave caught Gamera mid-swing and sent the kaiju hurtling into the canyon wall.

  Prime struggled to one knee, then reached blindly around until it found the sword again. The mecha struggled to its feet. It cocked its head to the side and turned toward where Gamera lay dazed and growling.

  Gamera tried to pull itself back into its shell but Prime took three huge strides and kicked the kaiju onto its back, exposing its soft underbelly.

  <<<>>>

  Prime raised its sword. Its knees started to shake and buckle but it managed to lift it over its head.

  The mecha fell forward, driving the blade deep into the kaiju’s abdomen.

  Gamera shrieked, let loose one last sputtering gout of flame, then shuddered and fell still.

  Prime lay atop the beast. The mecha’s good arm shook and sparked and went rigid. Its legs kicked and its head spun around to face the crowd of onlookers.

  <<<>>>

  Prime gave one last forlorn warble and fell still.

  The crowd erupted into applause, cheering and jostling and high-fiving each other. Tom and Samantha hugged and jumped up and down.

  Everyone started shouting back and forth

  “That was amazing!”

  “I’m so signing up for Prime!”

  “Did you know they have free two-day delivery!?”

  “And you get to watch all those new shows!”

  Tom slipped his fingers through Samantha’s and bent over to kiss her, long and hard. When he pulled away she reached around and smacked him on the butt.

  “Was it worth the drive, babe?” She asked.

  He nodded, giddy with excitement. “Totally.”

  9

  Killer Asteroids

  The NEA issued a dire warning on Monday. A dozen asteroids - all of them potential planet-killers - were headed towards Earth. Teams of intrepid men and women, mostly out-of-work oil-drillers, had been sent up into space to try and break them apart.

  They were pretty sure it would work. But, just in case, the NEA had solicited help from the greater public. A part-time nephrologist had sent in a design for a modified lithotripter machine.

  Then some crazy NEA engineer had figured out how to build one large enough to protect an entire city.

  They had them installed in every major metropolitan area throughout the U.S. Anyone living in rural areas had been told to either visit their in-laws in the city, or run and drive in a zig-zag pattern so an asteroid was less likely to hit you.

  Tom was pretty sure that the rural people were screwed, which was pretty typical of any government agency.

  By Thursday the oil-drillers-turned-astronauts-turned-celebrated-heroes had managed to break apart eleven of the twelve asteroids. The twelfth was headed towards Australia, but it was the smallest so nobody was that concerned. If anyone could survive a giant asteroid strike, it was the Australians. They would probably turn it into some kind of drinking game.

  So the planet wouldn’t be broken into tiny fragments, but the asteroids sure had been, and they were still causing a huge headache. Every time a chunk fell towards Phoenix the giant lithotripter would pulse, sending high-energy sound waves at it, pulverising it into smaller, more manageable bits.

  Like the baseball-sized bit that blasted through the ceiling of Tom’s office and shattered his phone.

  Much more manageable.

  He could hear the sales line ringing in Grossman’s office, which meant he was now getting all the hot leads. Phillips stormed down the hall and opened Tom’s door.

  “Tom! Why aren’t you taking some of these calls? Grossman’s getting backed up!”

  Tom lifted the remains of his phone receiver.

  “Use your cell phone, for God’s sake! How am I supposed to motivate you to sell more if you won’t even make the tiniest effort-”

  Tom opened his mouth to reply, but Phillips lifted his finger.

  “No, Tom. Listen to me. I like you. You’re a good guy. But you’re not a closer. Do you know what I mean by that? Closers make sales. Closers get the coffee…”
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  “I think you mean ‘coffee's for closers’,” Tom said.

  “Whatever. I haven’t seen that movie in a long time. The point is that you have to want the sale. You have to want the commission. Isn’t there something you want, Tom?”

  I want you to shut up and let me play freecell, Tom thought.

  “I don’t know…” he said.

  Phillips shook his head. “Well, I suggest you think about it. Think about what you want, and think about how many sales it would take to get it. Maybe put it on a vision board or something. Grossman’s got, like, eight different vision boards.”

  “They all have pictures of Jet Skis on them,” Tom replied.

  “Yeah, so Grossman wants eight Jet Skis. He’s a hell of a lot closer to having eight Jet Skis than you are, Tom!”

  Phillips walked out and closed Tom’s door behind him.

  Tom leaned over his desk and put his head in his hands. What did he want? He thought he’d be happy with his girlfriend and his condo and his Subaru.

  Samantha was wonderful. She brought out all the good things in Tom, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was still wasting his life.

  He wanted to do something. To be something. What if he stayed here and ended up like Grossman? Or Phillips? Just some middle-manager with a stained shirt and an inflated sense of his own worth?

  He could use some extra money though. The month was going to be tight without any more sales.

  At least Tom’s computer still worked. Maybe he could drum up some email business.

  He opened up his email. The subject line on one of the messages made his heart skip.

  To:”TomBrown@genesisinsco.com”

  From:”Recruitment@NEA.gov”

  Subject: Field Training

  Dear Mr. Brown,

  Congratulations! As you can probably guess, your results from our Round Two survey were analyzed by our NEA field operatives, and they have selected you for Field Training!

  Only a handful of applicants are selected for this exciting opportunity, and space is limited. An NEA transport helicopter will be landing at the Phoenix field office on Saturday morning.

  Should you choose to accept your training position, we require you to be at the field office by 7:00 AM on Saturday.

  If you wish to reject the offer and rescind your employment application you will be unable to re-apply for a full three years.

  Unfortunately, due to the nature of our training program, we are unable to tell you the exact location of your particular class (our suggested packing list is below), or how long you will be away. Much of it depends on your performance during training, local weather conditions, apocalypse conditions, bends in the space-time continuum, potential overlaps in concurrent realities, our food supply, pending negotiations with our labor union, and many other contingencies.

  We urge you to think carefully about your decision. We cannot guarantee your safety, but we can guarantee a fun and high-paced work environment!

  Sincerely,

  The NEA Recruitment Team

  *Suggested Field Training Packing List*

  Warm clothes

  Toothbrush / toothpaste

  Exercise clothing (2-3 pairs)

  Comfortable shoes

  Steel-toed boots

  Laundry detergent

  Peanut butter (for snacking and bait)

  Any prescription medication you may require

  Blanket

  Pillow

  Any non-prescription medication you may require

  Blu-Ray movies (for the recreation room)

  A Journal (you may want to write about your experiences while you are there, but please be advised that any classified information will be redacted)

  Sunscreen

  Flip-flops (for the shower, if available)

  Small backpack for day trips.

  He closed the email and sat back in his chair. He had two days to decide if he was going, and no way to know where or how long he would be gone.

  Samantha wanted him to talk to her about this stuff. To keep her in the loop and discuss his plans with her. But what was she going to think about this?

  Was this the change he had in mind?

  He thought about what it would be like to wear an NEA uniform, and the look on Samantha’s face when she saw him in it.

  Then he grinned, printed the message, and walked it up to the reception desk.

  Author’s Note

  I like Tom and Samantha more and more with every episode, and I hope you do too! Tom has some pretty heavy decisions to make, and I’m not entirely sure what he’s going to do. Is his relationship with Samantha enough to keep him in Phoenix? Or does he hate his job and his life so much that he’s willing to get on the NEA helicopter?

  I have no idea. I haven’t written it yet. Guess we’ll all find out in March!

  If you enjoyed these episodes, feel free to leave me a note on Facebook, or shoot me an email at pieter@pieterlars.com. I would love to hear from you, and hear any ideas you might have for future apocalypses.

  If you’re interested in hearing from me directly via the occasional email, please join my mailing list. I will send out notices for upcoming books, and maybe some future promotions.

  Mailing List Signup

  My website has a list of my current projects, with estimated release dates. I hope you’ll find something else that interests you. Right now, my projects are pretty eclectic. They say write what you love to read, and I love to read (and write) all kinds of different things! At the same time though, if I hear from enough readers that want me to focus on a specific world or project, I might focus my efforts a bit. But I promise I won’t leave any projects unfinished, so don’t worry.

  Talk to you soon!

  -Pieter

  www.pieterlars.com

  Acknowledgments

  A huge thank you to everyone who bought and read Season One! That gave me such a big confidence boost, and I really hope you enjoyed it enough to go on to read this one!

  If it didn’t, you’re probably not reading this anyway.

  Thanks to my family and friends for all the notes of encouragement, and for letting me talk about my writing all the time. I know how annoying it gets (but I probably won’t stop).

  Writing can be very lonely, so I’m incredibly grateful to have a wife who supports me. That fact that she’s also a writer makes it even more fun!

  Also by Pieter Lars

  The Everyday Apocalypse series:

  Season One (buy it here!)

  Season Three (coming March, 2017)

  The Arcane Interbellum series:

  The Culling (a collection of stories) - Coming Spring 2017

  Signs and Scars (an Arcane Interbellum novel) - Coming Summer of 2017.

  The Arcane West series

  The Dead Man’s Shoes - Coming Winter of 2017.

  Check my website for updates on these and other projects.

  Awesome Books

  I read a ton. Here are some books I have particularly enjoyed recently:

  John L. Monk’s Jenkins Cycle

  Brandon Barr’s Her Dangerous Visions

  John Langan’s The Fisherman

  Jessica Cluess’ A Shadow Bright and Burning

  Kevin Sands’ The Blackthorn Key

  Barry Hutchison’s Space Team

  William Dresden’s Dead Reckoning

  Fiona Lexus’ Emily Uncensored series

  That list is pretty eclectic, but those books hit all the right notes for me, and will probably give you a good sense of where my tastes lie, and the kind of writer I want to be.

 

 

 
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