Solar: A Post-Apocalyptic Survival Thriller

by Huggins, Shane

  "When did you see it?"

  "I always see it." Her eyebrows knit together. Her lips press themselves into a thin line.

  "What do you mean?" I ask.

  Her eyes flick open, almost bulging out of her skull. That look engulfs her face again. The look of fear. Her eyes fix on her hand. The hole. Her fingers shudder; all of them. The shimmering colours pulse vibrantly as she stares, watching the dead digits stir.

  "I see it every time I close my eyes," she says. "They're not dreams. More like visions. I see it drawing its power, sucking the life from the land around it."

  "Drawing power for what?" I ask.

  I lift her head to face me. Her eyes are puffy, wet with tears. She sniffs, lips quivering, as she says, "The final purge."

  CAITLIN

  Sunday, 06:32

  "This is crazy!" I yell. "We've got what we need. Let's just go home."

  "I can't," John says. His voice is calm, yet he is driving like a madman. "I need to see it."

  "We don't have time for this," I state as I check the time. "Any detours will be cutting it fine. We can look tonight."

  "No," he snaps. "We're not far. It'll only take a second." Famous last words. I huff, press myself back in my seat. Things he says will only take a second usually take a lot longer. It is a shame how backwards it all is. Things that should take him a lot longer only takes him a few seconds.

  "Whatever," I say bitterly. "Just hurry it up. Shouldn't be a problem for you."

  He glares at me. He knows the jibe I am intending. Still, he says nothing. He just drives on, doing his best to hit every pothole on the way. I do not know why I am so upset with him. I guess I am still shaken from earlier. I get a wicked tongue when I am unsettled.

  "Sorry," I utter meekly. "I didn't mean it."

  "I know," he says. He reaches for my hand, gives it a squeeze. "It's okay. It's been a hell of a night. I just hope it ..." His words trail off.

  I look at him, perplexed. "What is it?" I ask. He does not answer. "John, what the hell is-" And then I see it. The forest that once spread a thousand acres; gone.

  "How?" he asks, his voice barely a breath.

  I stare, fixated. I did not feel the car trundle to a stop, but no longer feel motion. I am lost in a haze of thought. Nothing we have seen to date could have caused this. There must be more to solars than we realise. There must be worse things to come.

  My thoughts consume me, drag me to dark places. In my mind's eye, all I see is death. I am only returned to my bleak reality when I hear it: the slam of a car door.

  I look to my right, but see only my reflection in the driver's window. I am alone. I pull the handle, swing my own door open. The night is colder than it was earlier. Maybe it is just the chill that now crawls beneath my skin.

  "John, get back in the fucking car," I hiss. He ignores me.

  He continues to follow the trail down into the valley. It is an eerie sight. No trees, no stumps, no grass or growth. It is as if all life has simply dissolved into the soil. I have no choice but to follow the trail. In his emotional state, who knows what he will do?

  I quickly catch up to him. His steps are short, heavy, lacking purpose or goal. he stares blankly into the distance. He has the look of a man who has nothing left, nothing to lose.

  I grip his arm tightly, pull him off balance. He shows little resistance as he stumbles into my arms. I hold him as he buries his face into my neck. He is silent, save for his laboured breaths.

  "It's okay," I whisper. I feel his arms wrap around me. He is shivering. "Just breathe, clear your mind. This is nothing new to us. We've survived everything they've thrown at us so far. This is just another obstacle we'll soon overcome."

  He draws his head back. His eyes are soft, bordering on defeat. "How?" His voice is an echo of earlier: low, weary, barely a breath. "How will we overcome this, Cait?"

  I have no answer. I only spoke to reassure him. His strength usually wins out after a few choice words of encouragement. Not this time. It is as if the fight has winked out of him.

  "If they have done this amount of damage in such a short amount of time, how long do you think we'll last?" he asks. "How long before our crops disappear? Or the animals? How long before whatever took the trees comes for us? We're already dead, Cait. You just haven't cottoned on to the facts."

  I do not know what to do, so I act on impulse. I draw back and slap him across the jaw. The impact echoes through the emptiness that surrounds us, but his head still hangs.

  I draw back again, this time clenching my fist. My knuckles catch his cheek with a resounding crack. Now I have his attention. Now his eyes are fierce, burning.

  I draw back a third time. Before I can land a hit he catches my fist.

  "Don't do that again," he growls. I smile. He follows suit, pulling me close. There he is. There is the man I fell in love with.

  A flash of lightning rips through the darkness, followed by a deafening rumble that shakes the earth beneath my feet.

  "We should go," I say softly, holding to savour the feel of his breath on my lips.

  He does not say a words. I can feel his body tense beneath my touch as he leans in. His kiss is tender, refined, leaving me wanting. As he draws back, I grab him firmly on the crotch. He pauses for a split-second before gently prising my hand away.

  "Not yet," he whispers. He steps away, tugging at my hand to follow him to the car. "Not here."

  We paw at each other as we hurry to the car. The cold's frosty bite is a distant memory. It is like we are teenagers again, unable to control our hands.

  Another flash of lightning divides the sky. I pay it no mind. John does. He stops dead in his tracks, staring at nothing but black.

  "What is it?" I ask. He is shivering again, his body rigid like an iron bar. "John, talk to me."

  His arm rises slowly, just as another flash ignites the sky. His finger is extended, pointing. It is aimed at our car atop the hill, but that is not what fills him with such dread. I see it in that instant, blocking out the stars on the rise, glistening in the violent lights that do battle overhead.

  I cannot move. It is as if my feet have turned to lead. I urge them to take flight, will my arms to drag John along with me, but nothing. I feel my hand crumple under John's grasp. The pain releases me from my petrified stance, but John is still frozen. I look back to the car, to the silhouette standing next to it. The sky erupts with dazzling white light once more. It is closer, halving the distance in only a handful of seconds.

  Suddenly I am moving, sprinting. John is only a pace ahead, still crushing my fingers between his. I cut glances to all sides, horrified at what I see. The thing that hunts us is not hunting alone.

  We are down the trail within minutes, heading through fields of loosened soil. I wish there were trees to shroud our presence. We are unprotected, open on all sides, and they are many. The way they move, I have noticed a pattern. Ryan has described such methods to me countless times. They are herding us.

  "I know a place we can hide," John says. "An old, derelict farmhouse." I say nothing, let him lead. I do not have the heart to tell him that that is exactly where they want us to be. It would not matter if I told him, either way. We cannot go back.

  The soil gives way to neglected farmland. Hard, compacted earth now racks my bones with every stride. My shoes scrape hard against my heels, rubbing them raw. My body screams for me to stop, to give myself up to whatever follows. I know in my heart it is not an option. Rose is waiting for us, and I will be damned before I leave her in David's perverted hands.

  The farmhouse is not far. I see its outline in the distance, but it is not the only shape I see. There are dozens, moving swiftly, purposefully. They are closing in on all sides, but not to cut off our heading. They mean to trap us.

  "They're not coming for us," I pant.

  "I know," John says. His breaths are controlled, steady. "I don't think they're here to hurt us."

  "No," I wheeze, struggling to force the words between err
atic breaths. "They're here to see we don't make it home before sunrise."

  They stop their approach as we hit the farmhouse's porch. They line the horizon, a row of black beneath the aubergine sky. Soon the sun will rise behind them. Soon our time will be up.

  John throws the front door open. He waits, keeping a keen eye on the rise. I enter first. He is right behind, barricading the door with a heavy oak table. That will not stop them. If they want in, nothing will.

  I take refuge behind a sofa at the far corner of the room. John crouches next to me, finger at his lips. As if I need telling.

  I hear nothing, save for the quivering breaths I am trying to suppress. No movement from outside, no birds singing, not a single creak from the decrepit old structure. Things are disturbingly quiet.

  John takes my hand in both of his, presses it to his chest. His eyes are locked on mine. It is a special thing, to be capable of having an entire conversation without uttering a single word. This one brings a tear to my eye. He is saying he loves me. He is saying goodbye.

  Damn the silence. If this moment is to be our last, then fuck it. I grab his head with my other hand and pull his face to mine. The kiss seems to last a lifetime. Bittersweet, given the circumstances.

  A light catches my eyelid, forcing it to open. A ray of sun streams through a crack in the door. I accept it. I accept that, in moments, the real threat will come bursting through said door and butcher us like cattle. My acceptance is premature, destroyed by a simple realisation: the door is north-facing.

  I pull back, push John's face away. The windows are darkened. Night is still upon us. Our expressions change to that of confusion as we finally hear something. One knock, two thumps. John leaps to his feet. He is at the window in a second, peering out towards the porch. In that instant he throws his hands in the air. A gun appears at the window, knocks on the glass with the lightest of taps. That is when his arms drop, and when I hear it.

  I close my tired eyes, allow myself a sigh of relief, as he says from beyond the window, "Bet you're glad I've got a gun now, hey John-boy?"

  JOHN

  Sunday, 09:40

  "Do you believe me now?" I say. David shakes his head, still refusing to face the truth. Even Cait looks dubious. "It's them. Solars. I don't know how, but they now walk the night."

  David's headshake continues, now with more vigour. "Bullshit. Solars would've carved us a new one if given a chance like that."

  He has a point.

  "What else could it be?" I am ashamed at how I sound, whimpering, like a little boy vying for approval.

  "Have you ever thought that, just maybe, someone else made it this long?" David asks. "That others may be out there, looking to take what's ours?"

  The thought had not crossed my mind. David and Ryan were the first we had seen in over six years. We are too far north. Not many would risk venturing this far; not without good reason.

  "What about the door?" I say.

  "Door? What door?" David asks.

  "The door up there," I point to the top of the stairs beyond the common room. "Something tore through it like it was tinfoil."

  "Are you feeling okay, John?" David asks.

  I nod, adding, "I know what I saw. There was a hole in the door."

  David is back to shaking his head again. He glances at Cait with a raised eyebrow.

  "Something attacked us," Cait says. "On that we agree. But nothing could have made such a big hole in that door, John. Nothing." I cannot believe she is taking his side.

  "Think what you want," I grumble. "But how else do you explain what we saw out there?"

  "And what exactly did we see, John?" Cait's tone is verging on sharp. "Shadows on a hill trying to surround us. There was nothing extraterrestrial about them, nothing special. I agree with David. They were only men."

  I cannot believe what I am hearing. After everything we have seen ...

  "How did you find us, David?" Cait asks. The question catches us both off guard. David squirms, shifting uncomfortably. "Why were you even out there?"

  "You were taking too long," David begins. Beads of sweat have appeared on his brow. "I knew you wouldn't be far, so I started walking. When I found the car I knew you'd be close by. It was blind luck I got there when I did." His words have turned sour. He looks me in the eye, cold blues cutting me like a knife. "They would have beat you half to death, raped Caity in front of you. They would have slit her throat as they held you down, then you'd be next. Men are the real monsters in this day and age. At least solars kill you quick."

  I shudder at the thought. My fingers ache. I did not realise my fists were clenched to the point of cracking.

  I let loose, take a deep breath, as I say, "Thank you, David." I place a hand on his shoulder. "Thank you for saving our lives."

  He smiles casually, nods lightly. "Don't mention it."

  "What about Ryan?" Cait shrieks. "And Rose?"

  "Cait, c'mon," I say, looking to stave off her assault.

  "No!" she snaps. "Ryan's in a delicate state. If someone came back after we left, he wouldn't have been able to protect her. You were supposed to look after them."

  "If I had, you'd be dead!" Ryan's door shudders as David's voice continues to rise. He must be listening by the door. I hope Rose does not hear any of this. "She's fine, Ryan's fine. Everything worked out for the best, so stop your fucking moaning."

  Cait's eyes are on fire. I can hear the grinding of her teeth as wrinkles appear over her nose.

  "Let's take a minute to cool off," I say. I take Cait's hand, hold it tightly between my fingers. With a subtle nod, I point her attention towards Rose's door. "Shouting at each other won't solve anything."

  "Fine," Cait says. She is reluctant to give in. "I'll go check on Rose." She eyes David as she climbs to her feet and dusts herself down. "This conversation isn't over."

  "Where did you get the gun?" I ask once Cait is out of earshot. My tone is low, threatening. David takes it as such.

  He rises, stands over me as I look up at him. "Is this how you thank the man who saves your arse?"

  I leap to my feet. My legs are numb from sitting on the cold concrete. I try my best not to show my discomfort.

  "You got something to hide?" I hiss.

  "Course not," he replies coldly. "Thought you trusted me, John."

  "Just tell me where you got it," I say bluntly, cutting the bullshit.

  "The other night," he says. His eyes soften. "The night my boy got shot. He put a bolt between the fucker's eyes and I took his gun."

  "Ryan killed one?" I blurt. Astonishment silences me for a second or two. "So ... so you must have had a good look at it."

  He hesitates before saying, "They're just men, John. Frail as you or I." His pause was brief, but clear to see. He is not telling me all he knows.

  I have a choice to make. Call him out, or take his word for it. Damn this shit.

  "Okay, David," I say, choosing the path of least conflict. "I'm sorry for questioning you."

  "It's alright, John," he says. He slaps my shoulder. "These days you can't be too careful. Things are fucking crazy out there." He turns away upon hearing Rose's door open, decides to make a quick getaway before Cait rejoins us. "Get some sleep, John. You need it."

  He is gone before Cait reaches me. "Hope he's not running away on my account."

  "Think he's more scared of what awkward question you might ask next," I say. It was meant as a joke, but she tenses. "What? What's wrong?"

  "Nothing," she says. Something has clearly upset her.

  "Do you really think they were men out there?" I ask, changing the subject.

  "No," she says. I can tell her mind is on other things. "But I don't think they're solars either."

  "Then what?" I ask.

  Tears glisten in her eyes. She is holding back, masking her emotions. "Something else," she says. She closes her eyes, allowing the tears to fall freely. "Something worse."

  ROSE

  Sunday, 11:03

  She k
nows, I know she does. I am such an idiot. I should have barred the door, made it impossible for her to get in. Stupid. Everyone had left. It was only me and Ryan at home. I had hoped he would be the one to creep in while I slept, not Mum. And now she has seen them: the bruises, the cuts. I hope she does not think that Ryan did this to me. Then again, maybe it would be for the best. If she confronts David about it he may carry out his threats.

  He might kill us all.

  I have been thinking of nothing else for the past hour. My head aches from the strain of it. I need a break, something to take my mind off it all.

  I creep from my bed and give my door a gentle pull. There are no more voices from the common room. Everyone must have gone to bed. Perfect.

  I tiptoe over to Ryan's door, knock lightly.

  No answer.

  I knock again, louder this time, but still nothing. I raise my hand a third time, but think better of it. If I knock much louder I may wake the others, Mum, Daddy ... David, God forbid.

  I press down on the handle. The door swings open, effortlessly, silently. I love it when his door first opens. I catch his scent as the air filters from his room. Through the crack I see him, asleep, undressed. His body is shredded, chiselled to perfection.

  I creep inside, sit on the bed beside him. His chest rises shallowly with every breath. I stare, enthralled, resisting the urge to run my hands over his rock-hard pectorals.

  My eyes scale downwards, but stop at the bandage around his abdomen. It has loosened. I gently tug the end out from under him, set it back and pin it.

  "Ow," he bleats.

  My heart leaps into my throat. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to-"

  "You didn't," he says, smiling. "Just thought I'd scare you."

  His smile sets me at ease. I begin to lose myself in his eyes; those big, brown, dreamy eyes.

  "Are you feeling better?" he asks.

  I nod, beaming. "Much. Thank you."