by Jon Davis
Someone in the room commented on NASA attaching booster rockets to the ISS. When it was time, the astronauts would send it into a higher orbit to keep it from falling to the dead Earth below. Solar panels would keep a signal going for centuries. I sighed. That would be sheer bad luck—not to mention ironic to the extreme—if aliens discovered Earth after we died out.
Okay, depressed again. But if the idea of leaving a message in a bottle made people feel good, then I didn’t want to spoil it for them. So gesturing for Brand to follow, I walked away and continued down the hall. As we walked, the announcement that they were serving lunch came over the intercom. Brand and I just looked at each other and shrugged. We weren’t very hungry. To me, it felt like the last meal of the condemned.
Continuing down the hallway, we turned a corner to walk the halls of the oldest part of the Riverlite High School. Built in the 1930s, the old school was three stories high. Though most classes were held in the building that had been built onto this one in the 1960s; this building still housed the music and art classes on the lower floors and storerooms on the top floor. I’d never been up to the top floor since it was locked normally.
I told Brand I wanted to check it out. It was a last-minute thing to do before the world ended. Brand shrugged and agreed with a simple nod. But as we headed toward the stairwell, he came to a sudden stop behind me, the rubber on his shoes skidding on the wooden floor. I looked back to see him staring down the hallway near a set of stairs that led to an exit out of the building.
He muttered, “Oh hell no…”
I turned and looked, and my jaw dropped open with shock. There was a tall guy with short blond hair and blue eyes holding a gun on two girls kneeling in front of him. A blonde and a brunette, both girls were our age, and they were holding each other, frightened out of their wits. I didn’t know either of them right away, and they didn’t see us.
That was a good thing though, because it meant we could get help before things got out of hand. I started moving to get out of the line of sight of the guy holding the gun. He was ranting so fast at the girls that I couldn’t understand what he was he was saying. I hoped I could get to someone before—
“What the hell are you doing, Jennings? Drop the damn gun!” Brand yelled.
For a second I just stared at Brand—shocked by his idiocy. The jock looked over at us, and in full profile it clicked in my head as to who he was. I groaned. Karl Jennings was a basketball jock who had a tattoo of a heavy black inked statement—‘B-ball is GOD’ on the inside of his right forearm. He was arrogant on the basketball court, arrogant in class, and now, he was an arrogant asshole with a gun. A gun that he was quick to turn and point right at Brand.
I yelled. “Jennings, no! Stop what you’re doing! This is crazy!”
Jennings cried out. “You! Hagen! Houseman! Get out of here! This isn’t about you! It’s about me, Diana, and her bitch of a girlfriend!”
I started to grab for Brand to move out of Jennings’s line of sight and missed as said idiot friend stalked towards Jennings. He said, “Fuck off, Jennings! Do you really think you’re going to shoot me, fucker? Then you’d better hit me! Otherwise, I’ll kill you!”
For a moment, I stared at Brand as he took fists into a gunfight. Oh sure, he had accepted that the end was coming—not! I now knew that he had been afraid all this time, and it was all coming out as rage. And, to him, all of this showed up at just the right time with the stupid jock about to shoot these girls. Now Brand had something to take his frustrations out upon.
But Jennings obviously didn’t care. I could see that the guy was insane. Without really aiming the gun, Jennings pulled the trigger. The hallway had lockers on each side, inset into the walls. The lockers right next to me banged hard with a bullet impact. Reflexively, I dropped to the floor while Brand screamed out wordlessly and rushed the jock before he could pull the trigger again.
As the two fought, I yelled for the girls to get out of the way. But they were frozen in panic and they only cried out—pulling each other closer while Brand and Jennings struggled. Brand was trying hard to get to the gun while the jock was pushing him back with one hand and attempting to bring the gun up to shoot him. Both were swearing up a storm.
The gun went off again at one point and I flattened back down to the floor. I didn’t hear the bullet pass by this time, although the crack of the shot echoed along the hall. Lifting my head, I saw that Jennings was becoming manic in his fight with Brand. And although Brand did have some fighting skills, he was struggling to keep Jennings from killing him. And Jennings was stronger. He lifted weights; Brand didn’t. It showed when the gun rose steadily in Jennings’s hand, pointed toward my best friend’s head, even as Brand tried to keep the arm from moving.
Then, without warning, Jennings lifted a leg and brought it down on Brand’s left leg. Brand grunted with pain as he went down, and that was that. Jennings pulled away with rage in his eyes. The world froze and I heard footsteps approaching from behind me. Jennings screamed wordlessly, swinging the gun around in all directions. He was wild now. He yelled, “You sons of a bitches! She was my girl!”
The gun went up as Brand started to get to his feet. But the jock wasn’t aiming at him. He was aiming at me. Why? I don’t know, but hooray! I was the target! That was a less than happy thing!
“Hey man, this isn’t the right thing to do. Don’t!” I yelled. Yes, I certainly could manage a deep conversation when I needed to.
Jennings pulled the trigger.
Time did the freezing bit that you hear about when you’re in great danger. I saw everything at once. Behind me, I heard my mom yell with fear in her voice. I saw Brand turn his head, yelling something. The girls both stared at me with widening eyes. Behind them, at the bottom of the stairs, a double set of doors led to a parking lot at the back of the school. The right side door opened and a dark figure came in.
I blinked and time unfroze. Then I realized that I was still blinking, still breathing, but not everything had unfrozen. I was staring at a bullet that spun in midair for a moment longer, and then, dropped to the floor. I looked at it for a moment, and then I looked up and saw who came up.
I said, “Son of a bitch—Alex?”
It’s not often that you see someone glowing with a soft but definite blue light around him. Brand managed to mutter, “Dude…what’s with the CGI?”
Alex sighed and just shook his head. He stood at the top of the stairs, taking everything in. Then, slowly, he reached a hand out to the two girls. Jennings started to swing his gun around, screaming, “Freak, keep your hands off my girl!”
There was more gunfire. I flinched. Then I realized that last shot hadn't come from Jenning's gun. I turned to look behind me and saw Chief Sinclair in a firing stance. Then his gun sank downward as he stared toward where he had fired. I looked back and saw Jennings staring our way. Or, rather, he was staring at another bullet hanging in the air right in front of his chest. Then that bullet dropped to the floor, as well.
Alex gently took the gun from the Jennings’s now limp hand. After a moment of sheer terror on his face, the freaked out basketball player went down onto his knees, crying with mix of shame and grief. Then, Alex looked at me, and before I could do anything, I felt a strange feeling of nausea pass through my body.
Alex said, “I’m glad you two weren’t hurt. And I’m sorry.”
For a few moments, we just looked at Alex Shaw with a mix of awe and fear. I was having trouble paying attention. I was guessing the adrenaline from all this was now petering out, because I was starting to feel hot, and very achy. Brand suddenly looked as white as a sheet. But both of us pushed whatever was going on to focus on Alex and what he was doing.
Behind me, I heard a woman say, “Alex, Goddess, no—what are you doing?”
Alex looked past me, started to say something, and then stopped. I’m not sure what it was, but I swear I could see a look of loss in his eyes. Then, quietly, he said, “Don’t abandon each other. Live. For each
other’s sake, just live.”
Without another word, Alex turned and went down the stairs. All the while putting out that strange blue glow. I got to my feet. The feeling of nausea retreated, but I was still feeling sick. Still, with Mom’s help, we followed Alex out to the back. Almost as an afterthought, Chief Sinclair put Jennings in handcuffs and escorted him outside. Even the girls he almost killed were looking at Alex with awe.
Outside, we saw Alex standing at the far edge of the blacktop area, near a maple. He was ignoring the increasing numbers of questions and demands. No one wanted to get too close to him, though. Getting up close, I saw him looking at the Moon. No, at Yama.
Then he looked back at us and smiled lopsidedly. He said, “I guess I have to try.”
In front of me, a red-haired woman, not much older than me said, “Alex, you can’t. Don’t! It will kill you!”
Saying nothing back, Alex looked back up at the sky. Strangely, he looked disappointed. Then his expression showed an intense amount of concentration. Then he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and his feet left the ground. When he did that, everyone gasped.
He didn’t stop rising. As he passed the top of the school, his glow brightened. With a flash of light that made everyone flinch, he flew up with a vision-blurring speed. He disappeared into the sky in seconds. And, yet, we watched. A blizzard could have been going on, and we would have kept watching the heavens. For an unknown time, we were silent, wondering what had just happened. And we wondered whether he was doing what we were praying he was doing.
Then, ‘it’ happened.
The sky turned to white fire. A bright star flared, casting sharp shadows black as ink. Then the light faded until we could see two arcs of fading blue-white light with that bright shining star between them. Then it faded, leaving the blue of the sky.
And my world fell to black.
CHAPTER FOUR
When I opened my eyes, my mind was a whirlwind full of images. I found that I had to keep blinking against the feeling of grit. I wanted to rub them clear, but I found it almost impossible to move. Finally, I did manage to get my right arm to move, but it was only after a few tries. That act alone took everything I had. I felt wasted. I was wasted. In fact, I felt like a giant asteroid had hit me. My internal voice groaned with the bad joke. But I was alive, that was the important thing.
I took in my surroundings as I let memories try to sort themselves into something I could understand. Alex glowing and flying…the sky lighting up…Mom and Dad calling out to me…Brand in an ambulance next to me. Some of it made sense, but it was a jumble, and I barely remembered bits and pieces of it. But I did remember what Alex had done, the impossible thing that Alex had done. That I would remember for the rest of my life.
That I was here, in a hospital room, told me that he’d succeeded. Looking down I saw that golden cotton blankets covered my body. I had a blue hospital gown on. Looking at the bed directly across from me, I saw Brand. He had on the same type of gown with an IV tube going into one arm. The bed tilted up enough that I could see his closed eyes. Looking to my left, I saw a partly open door, which, from the visible edge of a sink I guessed to be the bathroom. Past that in the middle of the room was a large door through which I guessed was the way out. To Brand’s right there was another open door. Moving my head, I saw clothes hanging there.
It was dark out. But aside from that, I wasn’t sure what time it was. It was snowing heavily too. I could see it hitting the windows in waves, and I could hear the wind whistling past the window. Great, we were in a blizzard. The nice weather had ended. A slight tug on my left arm got my attention. I had an IV attached to my arm. The fingertips of my left hand also had sensors attached to them. I glanced up and saw the monitor units, telling me that my body was living at least.
“Hey,” Brand said, and I looked back to him and saw that he was watching me with exhausted-looking eyes. He said, “Finally woke up huh? I’ve been up for a bit myself, but don’t try moving or you’ll burn out.”
“Riverlite Hospital?” I asked, but stopped talking. The dryness of my throat made it too hard. I hoped someone would come with water. Then I thought about that point. How many people were in the place? It couldn’t be all that many, not with the town deserted as much as it had been. Looking at the IV bag, I hoped that whoever had attached it to me was someone who knew what they were doing, medical-wise. Given that we were here though—well, that brought up even more questions.
For that, I wanted to ask Brand to fill in the blanks. It took me a bit to make the attempt. “How long, and what the hell hit us?”
And that was it. My throat was too dry. With a grimace, I stopped talking. Worse was, now that I was more awake, I could feel the other aches. Dry throat, dull pain where the needle was in my arm, and, frankly, I felt as if I’d gone days without a shower.
Brand said, “We were both out for about two weeks.”
I kept looking at him, trying to process everything I remembered. Nope, nothing was making sense yet. I said, “No really, how long were we out?”
Brand snorted and said, “Serious as Yama, man. Shaw zapped us! The doctor said it was radiation poisoning.”
“Brand, don’t…” I started to say and stopped myself, damn throat.
Ignoring my look of worry, Brand slowly got out of bed. He managed to get to his feet, but had to lean on the bed. I could see that he was trying to get to the water pitcher on the stand next to his bed. This wasn’t good. I could see that he was still too weak to be on his feet. I started to say something to stop him. But when he heard my raspy voice, he held up a hand to stop me talking.
I gave up. Let him collapse on the floor if that was what he wanted. Yeesh. Another moment passed before he straightened up, forcing himself to move forward, to pick up the pitcher. Stubborn idiot that he was, he was only doing this to prove that he could do it, sickness or no. And, parched as I felt, I couldn’t exactly argue about it.
Unhooking the finger connections to the wires Brand stumbled his way to my bed leaning on the IV stand all the way. He poured water into a glass and handed it to me. I saw that his hand was shaking. Drops spilled from the cup. As I reached up to take it from him, I was stunned to discover how weak I actually was. The glass began to slip from my hand before I managed to put it down on a small tray. Brand flopped down on the end of the bed.
With his help, I got a drink though, which managed to clear my throat. I relaxed, looking at him. He was on his back, breathing heavily with exertion. But he was giving me a smart-ass grin at the same time. Yep, trying to prove he could do something. I didn’t waste my breath yelling about it. Typical Brand. I was simply glad to be alive.
I said, “Damn, if this is how I feel, I think we could do without Alex ever saving us again!”
Brand was about to say something when the door opened. An older guy with graying black hair and a salt and pepper beard over his jowly jaw line stopped at the doorway. He looked relaxed. He was whistling a cheery tune right up until he saw Brand on my bed.
He caught his breath for a second and then yelled, “Brand Houseman, get yourself back to bed right this second!”
Turning his head, he called out for a nurse and then quickly pulled a chair from the outside wall and brought it to the bed for Brand to sit down on. “Damn it, boy! We spent days trying to keep you two away from the reaper, and this is how you repay our efforts? Teenagers! You all think you’re immortal! Ha!”
Given that he was wearing a white medical lab coat with a nametag pinned to the front right pocket that said ‘Kirksten,’ I guessed that he was our doctor. He sounded too grouchy to be a nurse. I was feeling so blown out, I thought about filing a complaint. I chuckled at the thought and laid my head back down. I was feeling too crappy to argue. Just then, a nurse with a nametag reading ‘Wells’ came in. Slender, with long auburn hair and blue eyes, she was just a bit over Brand’s height. Kirksten gave her a quick order to help Brand to his bed.
With her help, Brand made his way
back to bed. Kirksten came around to check my pulse. I watched with half open eyes as he timed the pulse to his watch. I found it amusing that he was ignoring the diagnostic screen right next to him. Some people were old fashioned, I supposed. I looked past Kirksten and noticed that Brand didn’t seem to mind the pretty nurse helping him out. I gave a slight cough.
Brand glanced over his shoulder at me, and I caught a wicked grin on his face. Then there was alarm on his face as he swayed and stumbled back. Nurse Wells stopped his fall with her quick deft hands. I noted a look of sympathy as she continued helping Brand. She even fluffed his pillows and moved them around to help him sit up.
Settling back, Brand said, “Sorry Doc, Vaughn needed my help. Kinda forgot that I’m not all that much better!”
Kirksten gave him a rueful chortle. He said, “I see! Well, consider this as a good reminder!”
Once he finished checking me, he opened a storage drawer in the nightstand next to my bed. Reaching in, he pulled out a straw. Taking it out of its plastic wrapping, he put it in and brought it up to sip from it. I sighed gratefully.
He smiled as he said, “So only a few hours after Brand wakes up, and you come to as well. Good. I hope this means that you’re both going to survive.”
I said, “Survive what, exactly? Brand said something about radiation. Was anyone else hurt?”
Kirksten said, “No one else was hurt as far as we know. We checked everyone at the school who was exposed to whatever Alex Shaw was putting out. Elsewhere, well that’s something we’re looking into. Our miraculous Mr. Shaw left us some issues to deal with.”
Across the room, Nurse Wells commented in a sour tone. “I wouldn’t consider him all that miraculous.”
Brand and I looked at each other, and Brand said, “Um, nobody said anything about him since I woke up. What’s going on?”
Kirksten glanced at Nurse Wells and said, “I’m sure that you both are quite aware of the bright light that radiated from the blast in the sky?”
