by Adam Bennett
An icy blast coursed through Peter’s veins. Suddenly afraid to open the file, he stared blankly at the words. He knew its contents would give him answers but his hands refused to move as if Medusa had looked him in the eye and turned him to stone.
A loud, uncomfortable growl escaped his stomach. He had to eat, but first he had to find needed enlightenment. He lifted the corner of the file with his fingertips and flipped it open.
A folded newspaper had been stuffed inside, the rest of the paper was neatly held in place by a metal bar. He tucked the newspaper under his leg and began reading the file. The first page contained his personal details and a small photograph. His ginger hair was neatly styled and the beard was missing. He nodded in recognition at the more familiar features. It confirmed his name was Peter Stanton, aged twenty eight. As he read the rest of the details, nothing triggered any fresh memories. He was born 26th June 1998, from London, divorced, one child aged five. How could he not remember he had a child?
He flicked through the rest of the file. It was full of medical and technical jargon, nothing that meant much to him.
Peter unfolded the newspaper and a single sheet of paper slipped out and floated to the floor. He went to pick it up but stopped mid-bend. The headline sucked the air from his lungs. The words swam in his vision mixing with his faithful companion, fourteen. He shook his head and forced his eyes to read.
End of Days?
Solar Storm to Hit the Earth
Mass evacuations cause chaos.
Scientists have now confirmed that the largest solar storm ever recorded will reach Earth in the next 24 hours.
A spokesman at NASA’s Solar Dynamics Observatory said, “We have been monitoring the complex pattern of Rossby Waves on the sun’s surface and without warning, they merged to form a perfect storm situation. This has resulted in an enormous coronal mass ejection (CME). Imagine a solar flare but concentrated into a cannonball and aimed directly at Earth. The planet will be hit with a massive blast of plasma. The particles affect the magnetic field and the resulting magnetic oscillations will overload every electrical system. Along with that we will receive an immense dose of radiation.”
Announcements have been made telling people to unplug electrical items and get underground, as deep as possible—basements, car parks, caves, the underground train stations. Our source has said people should be at least thirty feet below the surface to give any form of protection and unplugging electronics won’t do any good. The announcement has resulted in panic as people rush to get underground.
All flights have been suspended. Authorities worldwide have asked for people—
Peter stopped reading. The paper fell from his fingers and slipped to the floor, fanning the pages around his feet. He struggled to comprehend the situation. His stomach cramped. Nausea surged through his chest and Peter vomited over the chair next to him. When the cramping had passed, he rested back in his seat and closed his eyes. His head spun and the number fourteen glowed.
Stay calm and smart. Little steps. His priority was food and water. After that he could decide what to do.
Peter closed the file, gathered the newspaper up and got to his feet. He noticed the paper that had slipped out earlier and picked it up. It was a note from Dr. Carter.
Dear Peter,
Sorry we have left you, but we had no choice. Hopefully the newspaper will explain why. I think the room you are in will protect you. It was designed to keep everything out, to protect your new heart. I pray it will. I have done everything I can to keep you safe for as long as possible. I don’t know if you will read this, there were complications during your surgery, you may never come out of your coma. Perhaps that is for the best. But if you do - Good luck.
D C
P.S REMEMBER—IMPORTANT
1 - Keep moving. Your body’s movements charge the power supply for your perpetual heart.
2 - Power can last up to 38 hours without any movement.
3 - Running 5 miles will fully charge it from zero but as an athlete that shouldn’t be a problem for you.
4 - If power drops to 15%, the LED implant in your eye will activate showing the percentage left—if you can’t move, charge it up using the socket behind your ear—if there’s anywhere to charge it from.
Peter slowly folded the paper and put it in the file. His hand went up to his right ear, then left. Behind his left ear was a small, hard square.
In a daze, Peter drifted through reception, along a corridor and pushed open a door to the outside world. He blinked in the bright sunlight. Shielding his eyes from the glare, he looked around. The clinic nestled in a leafy clearing at the end of a country lane. He began walking.
Twenty minutes later, Peter passed a sign for Little Cragstone. Nothing moved except for the rhythmic swaying of the grass in the gentle breeze. The only sounds were his constant footsteps on the road and the rustle of the foliage. Five minutes later, he pushed open the door of Sandy’s Supplies. It reeked of burnt plastic, but there was no sign of any fire. He threw a selection of tins and packets into a basket and headed towards the back of the shop. As an afterthought, he picked up a tin-opener, a pack of plastic forks, a couple of candles, matches and a razor.
Out the back he found a compact kitchen with a sofa, and a wash room. An hour later, as dusky hues filled the room, Peter had eaten and shaved and was lying on the couch, clutching the file to his chest. By the time the sun had set, Peter was fast asleep. The candles lay unused on the floor.
* * *
A loud beep awoke him. He pried his eyes open. Light from the early dawn bathed his body in its gentle glow. The file still rested on his chest. Confused by the noise in his near silent world, he pulled himself upright and looked around. The file dropped to the floor with a startling clatter. The number ten followed his gaze as it travelled round the room.
Fifteen minutes later, Peter emerged from the shop. He shrugged a backpack full of supplies onto his shoulders and started running. Running felt right. It was what he was supposed to do. It was his purpose. He would run. He would run until he found a sign of life. He would run until he found his memory. He would run until he found his family.
And if he didn’t, he would stop. There would be nothing left to run for.
Run was first published in THE COLLAPSAR DIRECTIVE: A Science Fiction Anthology along with 20 other fantastic stories. You can find it on Amazon in ebook or paperback.
Gotcha!
Dan Combs
A cool summer night in suburbia. Two teenage boys—Tim; medium height, slender with dark, wavy hair, a backpack slung over one shoulder and Gary; short, blonde, a bit on the stocky side, with a digital camera hanging from his neck—walked around the side of their friend Lewis’s house. Passing a large picture window, they looked inside to see a middle-aged woman asleep on the living room couch, a reality show playing on a big screen television in the corner. They crossed the yard, stopping outside a window set just above their heads. Tim took a cell phone from his jeans pocket and dialled a number.
“Yeah,” he said. “We’re here… No, you don’t need to bring your binoculars.”
He shoved the phone back into his pocket. Lewis—seventeen, a little nerdy, with brown hair and glasses—opened the window and leaned out to take a look at the house next door.
“Would you come on,” Gary said.
Lewis glared at him and whispered, “Keep it down!”
“Your mom is totally passed out on the couch,” said Tim. “She’s got the TV blasting, dude, she’s not gonna hear us.”
“Yeah, I guess,” Lewis admitted. “But Mrs. Willard sees everything. Probably sitting there looking out her window right now. She’s got eyes like a cat.”
“She does not,” Tim said.
“I’ve seen them,” replied Lewis. “They glow in the dark.”
“Isn’t she, like, eighty or something?” Gary asked.
“She’s head of the Neighbourhood Watch. If she sees us, she’ll call the cops for sure.”
“I am not!”
“Then get your ass down here,” said Tim.
He looked down at his two buddies. “OK. Just give me a hand.”
“Whatever,” said Tim. “Gary, stand over here so he can get on your shoulders.”
“No way.”
Lewis started backing out of the window, his jeans riding low enough to show some serious butt cleavage.
Gary folded his arms across his chest and looked at Tim. He said, “You do it.”
Tim hesitated, then gave in. “Alright.”
Lewis was hanging by his upper arms, his feet kicking out to find some support. Tim moved over to stand near but not exactly under him.
“Just keep going. I’ve got you.” He looked at Gary and smiled, holding back a laugh.
Gary said, “Yeah, dude, you’re almost there.” He, too, stifled the urge to snicker. “Let go!”
Lewis released his grip on the windowsill and fell to the ground, tumbling backward. Tim and Gary burst out laughing. Lewis got slowly to his feet, rubbing his backside.
“I thought you had me!” he shouted.
Tim put a finger to his lips and said in a loud whisper, “Shh! You’ll wake your mom up!”
“Come on, let’s get out of here,” said Gary.
They ran through Lewis’s back yard and into the neighbouring yard, passing under Mrs. Willard’s window. In great shape for her sixty one years, sporting short grey hair and a red warm-up suit, she pushed aside a lacy curtain, watching them as they ran past, a pair of night vision goggles strapped to her head, their lenses glowing an eerie green.
Gary made his way between two houses, the others close behind. He slowed to a brisk walk and asked, “So, Lewis, you ever been there before?”
“No, but I heard all about it,” Lewis answered. “Sounds really cool!”
Tim passed his friends and turned around, walking backward for a few steps. “It’s better than cool,” he said.
Gary nodded his head and added, “Way better.”
They reached the street and trotted down the sidewalk for a block, then cut through another yard. As they rounded the house, a large dog sprinted across the well-kept lawn, barking, its fangs bared. Lewis jumped, startled by the animal as it lunged at him.
“Shut up!” Gary yelled, bending down to look the dog in the face. It had stopped just short of taking a bite out of Lewis’s leg, held back by a steel chain.
“Shit!” Lewis cried, trying to catch his breath. “Stupid mutt.”
Tim was now in the lead, heading toward a six foot hedge. He easily slipped through a gap in the shrubbery. The other boys followed. They strolled past an open lot where a house once stood, the outline of its foundation barely visible. In the distance a large building stuck out on the horizon, maybe a half mile away; a factory, its one remaining smokestack partially blocking a full moon. The boys broke into a run. Soon they were standing in front of the abandoned building.
“Looks haunted,” said Lewis.
Tim looked up at the huge structure. “I know. Totally awesome!”
“You should’ve been here last time,” said Gary. “We found a bunch of old bomb shelter kits full of these weird cans of food!”
“We got twenty bucks apiece for ’em at that antique store over on Grand,” Tim added.
“Apiece?” asked Lewis.
“Sixty bucks, dude; sixty,” Tim crowed.
Lewis nodded his head. “Excellent.”
They walked between two rows of old crates toward an open window. Lewis hung back a bit. He asked, “There’s, like, no security or anything?”
“My sister said they shut this place down ten years ago,” Gary told him.
Tim climbed up on one of the crates, stuck his foot through the window, and turned around. “We were here for a couple hours and didn’t see anybody,” he said, continuing into the factory.
“And we went everywhere,” said Gary. “Well, almost. There’s one part we didn’t get to. This time for sure. Can’t wait to see what’s in there.”
Gary climbed through the window, followed closely by Lewis. The boys wandered around the big, mostly empty space. Lewis tried a light switch; nothing happened. There were a few dilapidated machines standing silently against a row of tall windows. Tim and Gary approached what looked like a large boiler. Gary pointed to an oval hatch on one side.
“Check it out.”
Lewis walked over and stuck his head in the hatch. He looked around, sweeping his gaze from side to side.
He said, “So what?”
Tim banged on the boiler a few times with his fist. Lewis pulled back, startled. Gary snapped a picture, the flash momentarily lighting the room. He and Tim laughed.
“What’s the matter?” Tim teased. “See a ghost?”
“That’s not funny, man!” whined Lewis.
“You should have seen your face,” said Gary. “Oh, wait, you can.”
He held up the camera so the others could see its display window. There was his friend, looking as terrified as any human can get.
Lewis shouted, “Delete that thing!” and tried to grab the camera.
Gary held it out of reach. “No way.”
“Come on,” said Tim. “Let’s check out the party room.”
He crossed the factory floor and climbed up a set of metal stairs leading to a catwalk. Gary and Lewis followed him. They got to the end of the narrow walkway, went through an open door, and continued down a long hall. It was a bit darker but they had no trouble finding their way.
Gary stopped to take a look into some of the rooms as they passed. He snapped a photo.
They came to the end of the hall and turned right. Another hallway. At the end of it was a large room containing a few crates arranged in a semicircle. There were several empty beer cans scattered around the floor. Tim lifted one of the crates to find half a six pack, the cans still attached to their plastic rings. He picked them up and said, “I knew it!”
“Score!” said Gary.
Tim gave the others a beer and kept one for himself, tossing the plastic into a corner. They popped the tops, clinked the cans together in a toast, and took a swig.
“How’d you know this was here?” Lewis asked.
Tim said, “I didn’t, really.” They each sat on a separate crate. “After I got home, I started thinking about what else we could find and it just popped into my head.”
“My sister talks about this place all the time,” Gary said. “Says they used to make car parts.”
“My brother told me somebody died in here,” Tim said.
“Total bullshit,” said Gary. “That would’ve been on the news.”
“It’s what he said.”
“What about the cops?” asked Lewis. “Don’t they check this place out?”
“Man, they don’t care,” Tim replied.
“Or they don’t know,” mused Gary.
Raising his beer to his lips, Lewis said, “Whoever left these here knows.”
Gary said, “Yeah. We better suck ’em down.”
They each took a long draw on their beers.
Tim took a cautious look around. “Did you hear something?” They sat motionless, listening.
“Shit,” said Gary.
Lewis tensed; he looked fearfully around the room. “What?”
Gary and Tim stared at each other with wide eyes. They quickly finished their beers. Lewis followed their lead, tipping his head back, a drop of golden liquid sliding down his cheek as he swallowed.
Tim lowered his voice to a whisper. “Give me those.” He quietly put the cans in his backpack. “Lewis, check the door.”
Lewis hesitated.
Tim gave him a shove. “Go on.”
Lewis got up and crossed to the doorway, the others following close behind. He poked his head out into the hall. Silence. Then Gary belched loudly in his ear, the noise making him leap a foot in the air. Tim laughed.
“Cut it out!�
�� yelled Lewis.
Gary pushed him out of the way and ran down the hall.
“You’re a dead man!” Lewis shouted as he chased after his friend.
Gary turned around and took a photo, the flash almost blinding Lewis, who stopped in his tracks. Tim jumped on his back and rode him around.
“Get off me, you freak!”
Tim let him go and said, “Relax, dude.”
Gary turned around and started walking. “Come on,” he said. “We’ve got stuff to find.” The other two ran to catch up. They reached him as he stepped out an open window at the end of the hall.
“Whoa!” Lewis exclaimed.
Tim paused next to him and said, “Only way to get there, dude,” then followed Gary.
Lewis poked his head out the window in time to see the others climbing down a fire escape to the rooftop below. He reluctantly went after them. Gary ran across the roof and jumped off, disappearing below the edge. Tim did the same. Lewis got to the spot where they’d gone over and looked down, cautiously leaning forward. His friends had landed on top of a large shed. Gary had already crossed it and was climbing up a metal ladder bolted to the side of the main building. Lewis jumped down to the shed as Tim went up the ladder. Gary disappeared through another open window. Tim and Lewis followed him. When all three boys were back inside, they stopped to catch their breath.
Lewis looked around the narrow hallway. “You guys are nuts!”
“Ah, but we’re so good-looking,’’ replied Gary as they continued down the hall and turned left. He opened a door to a stairwell. They went down a flight of concrete steps to another door.
“OK, Lewis, this is it,” said Gary.
“What?” Lewis asked.
Tim looked his friend in the eye. “The reason we brought you along, buddy.”
“The hinges are rusted shut or something. We tried like hell; it wouldn’t even budge,” said Gary.
