"I don't know," said the girl in the pink blanket. "I want to talk to my parents."
"Well, if you get through to them, tell them we can really use some help," snapped Thom.
The students fell to arguing over who should go where and how unfair the entire situation was. Someone loudly suggested they designate a safe space before they start any stressful operations.
Leah finally threw her arms up and screamed to get attention again.
"Look—we've all got to work together in this because we're all stuck together, whether we like it or not," she said as she glanced at the pink blanket girl.
"You think I want to be stuck here doing this? I'd rather be studying—yeah I know, studying! I'm just as scared as you guys. My roommate left earlier and hasn't come back…I think she’s with the guys who attacked Thom…”
"Yeah well at least you know what's going on out there," said Hunter.
Leah glanced out the window. The sun had now set and the sky looked bruised, sporting low pink clouds lit by the great aurora, miles above.
"Sometimes I wish I didn't know."
"Well you do and like, you're the only one who does. That makes you our leader or something, doesn't it?"
Leah stared at Hunter. The others all looked at her. "Oh no."
CHAPTER 8
NOON FOUND THEM OUTSIDE Indianapolis where traffic had slowed to a crawl. That was when Jay finally realized just how bad the world had changed. The density of cars streaming from Indiana's capital increased the closer they drew to the city. With traffic came the attendant accidents and slow movement.
Mac had little patience for tooling along at 15 miles per hour so they made frequent side trips onto the muddy shoulders along the highway, ignoring the impotent blaring of horns as they passed less mobile motorists. Jay cringed every time the big Deuce and a Half rumbled to the side and dipped down off the road. He was sure the damn thing would break an axle or sink too deep into the mud or something, but the ancient warhorse just kept chugging along. Nothing stopped it.
Not even when they approached a major accident scene where several dozen cars had collided some time earlier. Desperate drivers had tried to turn around and cross the wide median to reach the westbound lanes. Tire tracks marred the pavement, and the median was torn to shreds. Jay spotted seven cars stuck in the churned up, snow-dusted median itself as they approached the wall of burned, twisted metal that blocked the way east. The smell of gasoline and carbon burned his nostrils as they approached.
"Turn around!" someone said standing by their car. He kicked at two flat tires. "I'll pay you if you can take me to the next exit!"
Jay ignored the pleadings and focused on the brake lights in front of him. Mac slowed the big army truck to a stop but didn't immediately get out or change course.
"No. No, don't even think about it," Jay muttered.
The radio chirped. "I'm going through. I can see the other side of this pile up—just hang tight. I’ll clear a path."
Jay looked at the radio. "You're kidding me!"
Mac revved the engine, and the big truck roared forward in a cloud of black diesel exhaust.
"Hey, you with the army?" asked another man who trotted up alongside Jay's car. "We need help—"
Mac plowed his big Deuce and a Half into the tangled cars and the sound of the impact silenced the pedestrian. The six-wheeled behemoth shuddered under the impact and bits of metal, plastic, and glass flew into the air.
"That guy's insane," muttered the man outside Jay's window.
"Something like that, yes," replied Jay.
"Now that's what I'm talkin' about!" hooted the man standing next to the car with two busted wheels. "Clear that shit outta here so we can keep going!”
Others got out of their vehicles along the side of the road and stared at the scene as Mac backed up, shifted gears, and lumbered forward to collide into the wall of cars again and again. Each time, the big truck trembled and shook off a spray of debris. Each impact wedged the roadblock a little further apart, letting Mac burrow ever deeper into the pile up.
"You're going to wreck your truck!" Jay warned into the radio.
"Nah, this baby's built like a tank. Almost through," Mac's calm voice replied over the sound of groaning metal.
A young man pounded on Jay's window. "Hey, lemme in! I need to get home!"
"Me too! C'mon, you got room!" said someone from the other side.
Before Jay could respond, three more desperate people beat on the roof and windows, all trying to open doors at once. The little SUV shook with the violence of their desperation. He fumbled for the radio, trying to apologize and not look at anyone at the same time.
"Mac! I don't have much time back here, people are crawling all over my car!"
"Start moving, they'll fall off."
"Not funny!" Jay gripped the wheel with both hands and pushed on the gas. "I'm sorry!" he yelled. The little Escape crept forward.
"Hey! Open up asshole! You can't just leave us!"
A rock bounced off the rear window. Jay flinched and hit the gas. The tires squealed and most of the people leapt back, except for two. One jumped across the hood and pulled back a windshield wiper. The other clung to the roof rack, which left him dangling off the opposite side of the car.
"Fuck you!" the man on the hood said. He ripped the wiper blade free and pounded on the windshield.
Jay screamed. The psycho on the hood took a chip out of the windshield and laughed. He smacked the glass with the wiper's corpse over and over again.
"I'm through—let's roll!" announced Mac.
Jay floored it and drove down the path through the wreckage, losing sight of the man on his hood in the plume of diesel smoke left in Mac's wake. When he emerged from the smoke on the other side of the wreckage, both men who'd been desperately clinging to his car just a few violent moments before had vanished.
"You okay?" asked Mac's voice on the radio. He was about a quarter mile down the now empty highway, tooling along so Jay could catch up.
Jay kept the pedal on the floor as he raced to catch up with the big army truck. He gripped the wheel with white knuckles and the radio with trembling fingers.
"No—for the record, I am not okay!"
Mac laughed. "You're fine. Stay close now—we opened the floodgates."
"What are you talking about?" Jay asked. The adrenaline coursing through his veins made him want to get out and run.
"Check your mirrors. Everyone's following us."
Jay looked. Mac was right: behind them, a steady stream of headlights trickled through the busted roadblock.
"Keep your speed up. I want to stay ahead of them."
"Okay," Jay said to himself. Matching speed with the lumbering truck in front of him was easy—the Deuce and a Half struggled to maintain 50 mph.
In short order, the first of the people to make it through the accident scene roared past them, blinking lights and honking horns. The first few people waved in thanks but the others didn't even bother to look unless they flashed the finger as they passed.
"You'd think more people would be grateful we cleared a path…" Jay observed as the latest car—an El Camino loaded for bear—roared by in a spray of gravel and expletives.
"We served our purpose—now we're just in the way, I guess."
"Well that's a comforting thought. There's a tidal wave of people behind us," Jay observed.
"Keep an eye on 'em. I don't want anyone getting any ideas back there."
Jay swerved as someone flew by aggressively close. "Ideas about what? Running me off the road?" he muttered to himself. "Asshole!" he yelled at the already receding car.
A pickup truck pulled up next to Jay and matched his speed. He glanced over and saw two young men in the front eyeing him. The one in the passenger seat smiled, flashing several golden teeth. His eyes roamed Jay's car, taking in the supplies that packed the back seat.
"Uh…Mac?" Jay said into the radio, splitting his attention between the road and the
pickup on his left.
“Go ahead."
"Some guys in a truck are following me…well, right next to me. Crap, they've got guns!"
Jay stared at the youth in the truck bed, who brandished a sawed-off shotgun. Buffeted by the wind, he had a hard time raising himself up to aim the gun, but Jay got the message.
He accelerated but the mass of Mac's truck blocked him in front. The pickup matched speeds and hedged him in from the left—the shoulder and dense vegetation walled off his escape to the right.
"I'm stuck back here! Speed up—these guys are serious!"
"Pull over!" shouted the man in the passenger seat. He flashed a pistol held gangsta style and pointed at the side of the road. "Now!"
"They want me to pull over," Jay warned. "What do I do?"
"Don't do anything—just keep driving."
"What?" Jay shrieked. His window shattered and glass pellets peppered the side of his face. "They're shooting at me!" he screamed over the roar of the wind. "Mac!"
The big army truck swerved over into the left lane, giving Jay a clear path straight ahead. Before he could accelerate, Mac's brake lights lit up and the rear end of the massive truck sailed straight into the troublemakers. The light pickup's nose crumpled and the kid in the back flew out like a rag doll, screaming as he died against the back of Mac's truck.
"Floor it!" Mac ordered.
Jay did and the Escape shot out ahead of the M35. He watched in the mirror as what was left of the pickup appeared behind the Deuce and a Half. One of Jay’s tormenters’ front wheels dug too deep into the grass and the little truck flipped, sailing through the air, spewing parts in a spray of debris.
It took another ten minutes of coaxing, but Jay finally slowed down enough for Mac to catch up and retake the lead. Jay grimaced when he saw the mangled remains of the pickup dangling from Mac's tail like some grisly trophy. As the bumper dragged and skipped across the ground, bits of plastic flaked off and hit Jay's windshield. Blood smeared the back of the shredded tarp stretched across the rear of the big army truck.
Jay was glad it would soon be too dark to see the results of Mac’s defensive driving. His eyes caught a flicker of color in the sky and his heart skipped a beat. With the coming darkness brought a new sickening sight to behold—the aurora were back.
"Those jokers bought us some time. The lookie-loos are back there checking out the wreckage. Let's take the next exit."
Jay blinked, tearing his eyes away from the faint, writhing pink snakes in the sky. "What?"
"The smashed pickup. The people behind us have slowed down. Now's our chance to get off the road for the night."
"What?" Jay asked again. "We're staying out here again? I thought we needed to reach Indianapolis."
“We'll be better off hitting Indy in the morning. There's no way to do it now and I don't want to roll in there at the end of the day—I need to rest, Jay. I ain’t no spring chicken any more.”
The bumper trailing Mac's truck skipped off the pavement and sent a shower of small golden sparks up into the air. Jay sighed.
"We may have just killed those kids back there."
Mac was silent for long moment as the mile markers rolled by, shining little green rectangles in his headlights. "They did it to themselves—remember that. Besides, I don't think they'll be the last."
Jay shook his head. "This isn't happening."
"Hey, save that shit for when we get off the road. I need you to hang tough back there and stay with me a few more minutes."
Jay gripped the steering wheel with both hands and screamed in frustration. He glared at the ribbons of light that had caused the world to fall apart. He screamed again.
Finally vented, Jay mechanically followed Mac as the old M35 rumbled down the off ramp onto a deserted country road. The big truck roared through the empty intersection and sped off south toward tree-lined farmland. Jay followed without a word, his eyes locked on the shredded, flapping tarp that graced the back of Mac's rig.
He hated staring at the bloodstained bumper, but it was better than looking at the light show above.
Mac found a stubbled corn field and pulled off the road without braking. The big M35 plowed through the frozen field in a shower of dirt and rumbled right up to an opening in the pines lining the wide, misty expanse of farmland.
"Stay close, we're pulling in here for the night. We'll be gone before sun-up."
Jay winced as his Escape followed in the fresh ruts furrowed out of the field and bounced along in his seat. He prayed to every god he could remember from his youth that he wouldn't run over a barbed wire fence in the dark.
He pulled into the trees and stopped next to the sheltering bulk of the M35. Following Mac's lead, Jay killed his lights as soon as he stopped. He kept his hands on the wheel and stared into the dark forest, lit dimly from above by the pink and green lights in the sky.
"Grab your bag and get up in the rig with me. There's more space and we’ll both sleep better."
Jay didn't reply but did as he was told. He felt naked as he scrambled around the girth of the M35 and climbed up into the cab. He glanced up through the pine canopy and watched the twisting aurora for a moment before opening the door with a cringe-worthy squeal.
"I don't understand," he said once he'd shut the door.
"Which part?" asked Mac, pre-occupied with fixing two MREs on the big truck's wide, shelf-like dashboard. Jay's stomach growled at the smell of mac and cheese.
"How could the world fall apart so fast…because of lights in the sky…how could something so beautiful be so destructive?” Jay asked, watching the light show through his dissipating breath. The window fogged up instantly, but glowed pink.
"Well hang on to your butt, my friend," muttered Mac. He stirred one of the steaming pouches with a plastic fork and handed it over to Jay.
"This is only the beginning."
TO BE CONTINUED…
CHAPTER 1
JAY STARED AT THE back of Mac's truck and took a deep breath. The moment of truth was upon them. They'd successfully navigated the loop around Indianapolis and come out the other side as sunrise peeled back the veil of auroral lights. They’d escaped the dying city—now it was time for them to part ways.
He closed his eyes, trying not to remember the images that flashed through his mind, willing himself to think of Leah and focus on his mission. It didn't work—the cars piled up in accidents and wrecks along the interstate continually drove through his thoughts, dragging with them vivid images of the dead bodies he'd seen since leaving home.
So many…it’s like a war zone…
Jay scrunched his brows together as he watched Mac climb up into the M35. The blood stain, now dried to a dark brown on the shredded tarp covering Mac's payload of supplies, made Jay think of the pickup that tried to run him off the road.
Things have changed so fast. This can't be real.
Jay unbuckled his seat belt, his movements slow and dream-like as his mind tried in vain to comprehend the incomprehensible. Everything Mac warned him about had come to pass. The violence, the veneer of civilization falling away after only a few days, the desperation and panic among people long-accustomed to comfort now forced to fend for themselves—it was all coming to a head.
He stepped out of his car, shut the door, and clenched his fists. I have to get to Leah before it gets worse. His eyes focused on the dormant trees and empty fields surrounding their abandoned stretch of State Road 1.
How long before the people fleeing Indianapolis reach here? How long before the destruction and chaos they brought on themselves will spread this far?
He turned in a slow circle, taking in the sights and smells of a world at peace. Oaks and maples, quietly sleeping their way through winter guarded over by their evergreen sentinels, undisturbed by the troubles of humanity. The fields, churned up and resting for the spring planting had no worries. But the homes, the farms, the little communities that huddled against the glowing night skies—those people had no idea what wa
shed toward them like a tsunami.
Mac called for help and tossed down an olive-drab duffel bag from inside the M35's bed. Jay caught the heavy bag and staggered back with the impact, his mind still processing what he'd seen since their hasty trip from Bloomington.
Is it like this in all the big cities? My God, if Indianapolis was that bad, what must Chicago or New York…or Los Angeles…be like?
Thinking of L.A. brought an image of Kate to his mind and all his fears and worries rushed to the front of his consciousness once more. His knees felt weak, but more from fear than the weight of the bag.
Guilt washed over him threatening to drown him in grief. Jay closed his eyes and punched the frozen ground, savoring the burst of pain in his fist.
Not now, don't think of her now. Focus on Leah.
"Hey, snap out of it," Mac called.
Jay blinked through his blurry vision and looked up. Mac leaned over the sideboard of his truck and frowned. He held out a cardboard box stamped MRE.
"Sorry," Jay muttered.
"Don't be sorry for being scared, son," Mac said as he dropped the box.
"I'm not scared," Jay protested without thinking as he caught the package “Oww!” he hissed, as the corner of the box hit his injured palm. The cut he’d received trying to defend himself two nights before still burned, but not as bad as before.
"No? Then you're braver than me. I'm scared shitless."
Jay blinked again and stepped back as Mac clambered down the side of the truck. "What?"
Mac dusted off his hands and stretched his back, groaning in relief. "I'm getting too old for this shit…"
Jay looked at the box in his hands. "What's this?"
"Food. For you and Leah. There's enough for two weeks in there—for the both of you."
The box suddenly felt heavy. "Mac…this is too much…"
"It's not enough," the older man growled, his brow furrowed. "I wish I could convince you to take a weapon."
Jay's spine turned into a column of ice. "No."
Solar Storm (Season 1): Aftermath [Episodes 1-5] Page 17
