Solar Storm (Season 1): Aftermath [Episodes 1-5]

by Marcus Richardson

  "The smart thing would be for us to head north to your friend’s place, man."

  Her dad looked at Hunter. "You're probably right, so that means we're going to drive through the night. If we make good time tonight, we’ll be home tomorrow—all we have to do is get around Indy…”

  Home.

  That one simple word sent a rush of memories and emotions scorching through Leah's abused and exhausted body. Memories of playing in the backyard with Kate, pretending to be fighter pilots as they zoomed from target to target, zapping bushes and birds. Christmases, Thanksgivings, holidays—sometimes with Mac and sometimes without, but always safe and secure in their snug little home.

  Leah held onto Thom's hand again as her dad pulled the big SUV off the road and rumbled past the closest cars. They all jounced and jostled as the truck made its way along the rough shoulder, Jay cursing all the while.

  At one point they hit a low spot, and she fell into Thom's side. Eventually—too soon she realized—Jay found a path back to the road, and they leveled out so she and Thom could extricate themselves from the jumbled mess of arms and legs.

  "There's the turn off, dudes and dudette," Hunter groaned a few minutes later.

  “You sure about this, Dad?”

  "That's our last chance for mondo grubbage, guys," moaned Hunter.

  "There'll be food at home," Jay announced. "I was there when Mac packed up—we left a lot of stuff in our houses."

  "What makes you think it'll still be there? Haven't you been gone for the last week?" asked Leah.

  "Over a week now," her dad confirmed. He paused while navigating a particularly tight spot between a tractor trailer and several cars that had sandwiched into the rear of the trailer.

  "Faith, honey—that's all I have to go on. I have faith Kate is still alive and faith our stuff will still be there."

  Leah glanced at Thom's shadowy face. She felt more than saw him shrug.

  "And if it's not?" she whispered.

  The car fell silent for the next few moments, the only sound the crunching tires on gravel and frozen ground as Jay wove them off and on to the road again.

  "Then we'll just have to figure that out when we get there—but we'll be no worse off than we are now, right?"

  "You got that right, compadre," muttered Hunter. He leaned his forehead against the passenger window. "What I wouldn't give for a chili dog right about now, piled high with cheese and relish."

  "Dude, shut the hell up," growled Thom. "I'd kill for a pizza from Five Pies."

  "Oh, my God—a Bobbi."

  "What's a Bobbi?" asked Jay from the driver's seat.

  Leah sighed. "It's only the best sandwich ever invented. I found a little Italian sub shop just off campus. It's like Thanksgiving dinner in a sandwich."

  "What?" asked her dad.

  "It's a sub roll, with mayo, roast turkey—"

  "The chunky stuff, man, not that sliced crap you get at a deli, right?" added Hunter.

  "Yeah, but the secret," Leah said, closing her eyes in blissful memory, "is they add mashed potatoes, cranberry jelly, and stuffing."

  "That does sound good," Jay laughed. "I could go for some veggie maggi. My mom—Leah’s Nanna Dinni—made the best maggi I've ever had, using fresh vegetables from our farm. My mom preferred it with chicken, but I like my chicken fried."

  Leah leaned back in her seat, suddenly aware of the hunger pangs in her stomach. Their food conversation had kept them all occupied for a few minutes, but reality crept back into their lives once more.

  They were stuck in the great dark unknown, somewhere near east of Indianapolis, in a stolen car with no food or water. And it was the middle of the night…and the world was ending.

  Leah snorted. She'd always thought the end of the world would arrive with a bang—like a comet impact or nuclear war or something. Instead, everything kind of died with a whimper, alone and cold in the dark.

  She was glad it was so dark in the SUV—that way no one saw her cry.

  CHAPTER 7

  JAY SAT BEHIND THE wheel of their commandeered Tahoe and stared at his house—what was left of it, anyway. He hadn't even been able to park straight on the driveway. The dashboard tilted at a drunken angle and his front left wheel rested on the side yard.

  His gaze moved slow and dreamlike from the off-kilter hood back to his home. What he could see of the rear half of his residence was nothing more than burnt timbers and rubble. He blinked and looked through lingering smoke at what remained of Mac's place.

  There was nothing. Nothing. Just some charred beams and a pile of cracked bricks, burned to a crispy black. Even the old man's shed had burned to the ground.

  Quiet sobs from the backseat brought his mind back into focus. Jay turned around and looked past Thom's somber face to see his daughter, both hands at her face.

  "You guys stay here," he heard himself say. "I'll go check it out."

  Leah didn't look up, but kept crying. Thom finally caught on and put a hand on her shoulder. It looked awkward, but Leah didn't seem to mind.

  "Bummer, man," whispered Hunter.

  Jay rolled his eyes. "Just stay here."

  "But I want to go with you," Leah blurted through her tears.

  "No…" Jay muttered. "You should stay here—sit in the driver's seat, honey. If we need to get out of here in a hurry, you be ready to roll. Keep the car running."

  "I'm not leaving you," she said.

  Jay looked at the shotgun in his lap. "If there's trouble, you have to. You know the way to Mac's place now—take everyone there."

  "But—”

  Jay looked at at his daughter. "I'm serious—if something happens, go. Don't wait. Go." Then he smiled. "I'll be fine."

  Leah laughed and wiped at her face. "Right." When Jay didn't take his eyes off hers, she finally relented with a sarcastic eye roll. "Okay, okay…I promise we'll leave if there's trouble. But there won't trouble. We're home, Dad. Well, what's left of it…"

  Jay opened the door and swallowed a mouthful of cold, smoke-filled air. Whatever he found in there might answer some of the questions tormenting his mind. A new one popped up, stopping him short: What if Kate made it home after all and something happened?

  Only one way to find out. He clenched his teeth and gripped the police shotgun tight as he climbed out of the idling SUV. Jay took a long look around before absently shutting the door once Leah slithered into the driver's seat.

  After he turned away, Jay found himself surrounded by a quiet gloom more befitting a graveyard than a neighborhood. A barely-there breeze tickled the week-old stubble on his face. He cinched his coat tighter around his neck, wincing at the pain in his hands when he bent his fingers.

  The air was thick with the smell of ash and charred wood. He could almost taste it as he breathed through his mouth. Light smoke hung like a pall over the corpse of his middle-class neighborhood. The Cortegeras, the Danners, the Ralees…their houses all lay in ruins. Mrs. Peabody's looked worse off than most—nothing remained but rubble and charred 2 x 4s sticking up like grisly ribs. Jay paused, wondering if he should go check on the old busybody.

  Not yet—after I see to my own house. If anyone in this neighborhood survived whatever the hell happened, that tough old woman would be one.

  Jay stood with his hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched against the cold, his back to the car. He stared at the shell of his house. The constant smoke that drifted over the neighborhood brought the smell of ash and charred wood to his nose. In the distance he heard a dog bark, then several more answered.

  A wan smile spread across his lips. At least somebody survived.

  Jay took a deep breath and walked forward. Now was not the time for cold feet. He'd been pushing everyone like a madman to drive through the night and all day to get here—he couldn't hesitate now. He'd gotten them around Indianapolis in the middle of the night, allowing the kids to sleep while he drove over the corpse of Indiana's capital city. That stunt forced him to sleep while Leah and the boys took t
urns driving during the morning, but they'd been spared the sights of Indy.

  The fires he and Mac had seen on their way east had largely subsided, though several parts of the city still glowed with orange light. It was the utter desolation that had almost unhinged Jay. Entire blocks of the city—at least those seen from the interstate—had been reduced to rubble.

  He couldn't even imagine the death toll involved in something like that. The roads, still relatively clear, looked little used after he and Mac had come through—though it appeared someone had widened the gap Mac's M32 created a week earlier. He still found hundreds of cars along the sides where they ran out of gas and had been abandoned.

  There'd been a lot more people walking on the road this time, all of them heading away from Indy. They stared straight ahead or looked at the ground as they shuffled along, their filthy clothes hanging from their bodies like rags on scarecrows.

  As they drove further west, the Tahoe's headlights illuminated people on the road—some walking, some laying down—who looked more like zombies with ashen faces, lean, gaunt looks, ragged, torn clothing—even unsteady, shuffling gaits—they were too sick or weak to raise much of a ruckus as Jay's Tahoe rumbled down the road.

  Just thinking about the events of the night before made a cold sheen of sweat appear on Jay's forehead. He wiped his face with an impatient gesture. It would be a long time before he'd get a decent night's sleep again. The faces he'd seen…

  Thank you God for sparing my child that. Leah was already shaken up enough. The kids slept as well as could be expected in an unfamiliar car on a bumpy road, but they slept.

  Jay couldn't say the same for himself. He took one wobbly step away from the Tahoe and caught himself on the hood. The long muscles of his leg twitched. It was like all his movements were exaggerated and he overcompensated by accident. He felt drunk.

  The driver's window rolled down with an electronic hum. "You okay, Mr. C.?" called Hunter from the passenger seat.

  "Yeah, Dad, you don't look so hot."

  "I'm fine," Jay said, waving off help. "Just a little tired, that's all." He aimed the shotgun at the door and staggered forward. "Stay in the car."

  "Dude, you look like the walking dead," Hunter called.

  Jay grimaced. I've seen them, son. I hope I don't look that bad. He turned and forced himself to walk a straight line from the car to the front door.

  Jay stopped at the front door and found it cracked open. He nudged it, but the door wouldn't budge. His heart pounding in his chest, Jay licked his lips, put one hand on the cold wooden door, and pushed. It wouldn't budge. He looked back at the car, flashed a thumb's up, then put his shoulder to the door and tried again.

  It moved. A little—the grinding sound that met his ears announced the presence of a lot of debris built up behind the front door. He forced a narrow gap to open enough so he could see through. Glancing down, he saw why: The entire back of the door was blocked with debris and charred bits of his life. He put his shoulder against the door again and pushed harder, then stopped when he heard growling from the other side.

  What the hell?

  A dark nose and lots of yellow teeth appeared behind the door.

  It's not bad enough that I lost my car, my stuff, then almost died getting back from Brookville only to find my house burned to the ground…now there's a dog in there?

  Several more dogs barked down the street. They were getting closer. A sudden tingling fear crept down Jay's spine like a river choked with ice. He turned and looked toward the street. He was a good ten paces away from the safety of the big Tahoe, idling in the driveway.

  Leah made a "what's up?" face but Jay waved her off when she started to open the door.

  "Dogs! Stay inside!" was all Jay had time to say before he spotted the first mutt down the street. More appeared through the smoke, all racing for his house.

  Shit.

  He'd read an article at some point before Impact about the rise of feral dogs in some small, remote towns in Arizona—how they posed a danger to the local residents and ecosystem.

  Without resources for an animal control department to rein them in, the dogs grew bolder and bolder, stealing livestock and even threatening people, especially children. He remembered shaking his head as he read about how the local police had taken to shooting them on sight. And that had been back before the lights went out.

  The pacifist in Jay had been horrified at the prospect of gunning down innocent dogs whose only crimes had been to be abandoned by cruel owners.

  Jay swallowed. I wonder how long it takes a dog to go feral?

  As if in answer, the dog inside barked and growled again.

  Not long enough. Hearing the dog on the other side of the door was the last straw. Something gave, deep inside him. The animal-loving, eco-conscious librarian finally relinquished control over Jay's actions to the survivor clawing for life.

  He had his daughter and the two boys to worry about—to defend—and he needed this house to do so. Jay slammed his shoulder into the door and felt it move, startling the dog into silence. A low growl met his next shove but this time Jay answered, anger warming his body and adding fire to his voice.

  "Keep growling!" he roared. "I'll blow your head off, you son of a bitch!" He didn't think it mattered what he said, only that it was loud and commanding.

  I am the human here, this is my territory. Back off.

  With a final yell of triumph, the door opened enough for him to rush through, scaring the filthy, half-starved golden retriever into flight. The dog barked over its shoulder, matted tail between its legs as it bolted toward the kitchen. Jay paused, listening to ragged nails scrabbling for purchase on tile, then the dog disappeared.

  The Tahoe's horn honked several times. Jay stuck his head out the door and saw Leah frantic in the passenger seat, waving her hands at the windows as at least half a dozen dogs jumped and snapped at the car.

  Jay's eyes narrowed. "You assholes picked a bad day to threaten my daughter."

  He kicked the pile of debris away from the front door and flung it open, the noise enough to startle two of the dogs racing and yapping around the truck.

  "Get away from my car!" Jay roared.

  The bravest of the dogs turned on him, ears back and teeth bared in a silent snarl.

  Jay pivoted until the shotgun aimed away from the truck as the dog approached. He pulled the trigger and thunder, smoke, and fire erupted from the scattergun. The 12 Gauge bucked in his wounded hands and he nearly dropped it when his shoulder torqued back to compensate, but the dog fared far worse. The buckshot load nailed the dog to the ground in a puff of snow, dirt, grass, and blood. After one whimper, the shepherd twitched its hind legs and stopped moving.

  Tearing his eyes away from the bloody mess in his front flower bed, Jay frowned and adjusted his grip on the shotgun. He limped forward, racked a new shell in the chamber with a loud ch-chack, and watched the expelled shell bounce on the driveway. Jay leveled the gun at his hip.

  "Who's next?" he yelled.

  The other dogs, now fully aware of the threat they faced, lowered to the ground and backed away, growling and snarling. None of them attacked.

  Emboldened, Jay yelled at the top of his lungs and jerked the shotgun in his hands, making several of the dogs flinch. Jay aimed the weapon up and pulled the trigger. The noise echoed across the street and bounced back to him from the half-ruined houses facing his own. The dogs broke and fled down the street.

  His initial rush of adrenaline faded like a gust of wind and Jay had to lean against the Tahoe to keep from falling over. Then the kids were around him, all talking at once.

  Leah wrapped her arms around his shoulders. "Dad! Are you okay?"

  "Yo, Mr. C., you went all Terminator on their asses, man!"

  "Nice shooting," added Thom. He trotted over to the fallen dog. "Wow…"

  "What do we do now?" asked Leah, watching the street with a wary eye.

  "Come on," Jay said, suddenly exhausted. "Let's get i
nside before more show up. That noise probably alerted half of Bloomington that we're here. Leah, get the keys."

  Jay let Hunter help him to the porch, followed by Thom, who stood behind them, watching the street. Leah caught up and pulled Jay across the porch.

  Hunter hovered by the front door, peering inside. “That's messed up, man," he observed.

  "You want me to go in first, Mr. C.?" asked Thom.

  Jay shook his head. "No, it's okay. If there was anyone inside, I think that dog would have scared them off. I'll go first, you guys wait here." Jay stepped through the door without further fanfare.

  "Hello?" he called as his eyes adjusted to the gloom in the foyer.

  On a whim, he said, "Kate?"

  Silence met his shouts.

  Didn't think so…

  Jay took a moment to examine the mess on the floor—the dog had been trying to get at the freeze-dried food and camping gear he'd brought up from the basement the night after Impact. His gaze fell on a particularly big box—one of the many empty ones left behind when he and Mac had loaded up in the middle of the night over a week ago.

  Jay bent down on protesting knees, placed the shotgun aside and picked up an empty carton of camping food. Freeze dried Chili-Mac—Kate's favorite. He remembered with a smile the look on her face when she told him if he liked the food, he wouldn't mind camping.

  "All you need is some water and a way to boil it and you'll have a hot, filling meal wherever you are," her voice echoed in his mind.

  Jay crumpled the package in his hands and crushed it to his chest, willing himself not to cry.

  She's not here. She's gone. Let her go.

  He called out her name a few more times, then slumped against the remains of the kitchen wall and cried. What good was all the food in the world if the woman he loved wasn't there to share it with him?

  A shadow crossed his closed eyes, and he looked up from the trash and debris on the floor to stare open-mouthed at the hole that used to be the rest of his house. He saw clear out into the back-yard and the neighbors on the other side of his partially standing fence.