by J. Thorn
“Are you all right?” Maya asked.
“I don’t know. This is all a little overwhelming.”
“You mean you haven’t seen any of this?”
Cameron shook her head. “I’ve stayed in the house ever since it started. Gerald made sure we had plenty of food, and he told me not to leave. So, I didn’t. I heard the chaos outside, and I was too scared to go out there.”
Maya understood how Cameron felt, but she had already acclimated to the situation after everything she’d been through in Nashville. Maya had seen the dome bring constant darkness, aliens filling the skies like angry, intergalactic hornets, and the utter destruction of a city in days, when it had taken hundreds of years to build it. And the death. Even as an EMT, that was not something Maya would ever acclimate to or forget.
“There are bodies just lying in the street. But I don’t see any survivors” Cameron said. “Where are they? What happened?”
“I don’t know.” But she did. Sort of. Still, Maya decided not to overwhelm the young woman so soon after leaving the house she’d locked herself inside of while the invasion had gone on.
Cameron’s head turned from left to right and back again as she drove, trying to maintain the truck’s speed while rubbernecking at the endless blocks of fire-scorched rubble that had been her town. Maya reached for Cameron’s mug and then handed it to her. Cameron took a sip, cleared her throat, and then smiled at Maya.
“I’m sorry about how I talked to you back there at the house. I’ve been scared shitless, especially since Gerald left.”
Maya felt a smile pulling at the corners of her mouth and she dampened it before Cameron would notice. “Look, you don’t have to pretend like we’re friends. We’re not. We’re just two people stuck in a shitty situation who just so happen to be connected to the same asshole.”
Cameron sat up straight in the seat, took another sip of coffee, and then shrugged as she kept her eyes on the road ahead.
“He’s not that bad, you know. He’s changed a lot since you two were married.”
“People don’t change. And the fact that he left you behind is proof of that. Trust me.”
“Yeah, well, even considering that, he still treats me better than a lot of other men have.”
Maya swallowed, the weak coffee now churning like an acid bath in her stomach. She felt feverish and jittery, and much as she wanted to attribute it to the caffeine, she knew it probably had something to do with sitting next to her ex-husband’s girlfriend while driving down a highway in a post-apocalyptic nightmare—which wasn’t a dream at all.
They weren’t friends. Far from it. Just a few hours ago, they’d been treating each other like punching bags. But if anyone in the world knew what it felt like to be entangled in the mess that was Gerald Waller, it was this woman. And she’d had the same experience with him as Maya had.
“Have you ever talked to anybody about that stuff? You know, like, a professional?”
“You mean a fuckin’ shrink?”
Maya shrugged. “Yeah, for lack of a better word, I suppose that’s what I mean.”
Cameron laughed. “Honey, no person, whether it’s some therapist or my boyfriend’s ex-wife, is going to be able to fix me.”
“I don’t mean that, and I didn’t mean to offend you. I agree that no one is going to be able to fix you. But maybe someone can help you cope with things a little better.”
Cameron looked straight ahead, her knuckles white on the top of the steering wheel. With the reflection of the rising sun reflecting off the rear-view mirror, Maya noticed a single, silent tear rolling down Cameron’s face from the corner of her right eye.
“My dad abused me as a kid. No, he molested me. And all through school, I was bullied because I was fat and had bad acne. When I was 17, I had a miscarriage which was the result of a date-rape. Ever since, I’ve found myself in one bad relationship after another. And even though it might be hard for you to believe, Gerald has treated me very well. For once in my life, I’m fairly happy. I have a man I love. I make good money tending bar in a dive while wearing a low-cut Wildcats t-shirt. Men tip me more than what they put into the Sunday collection basket at church. I’m not sleeping behind a dumpster and I don’t have to knock cockroaches off my burritos before I eat them. That might not sound like the exciting life you’ve been leading, but to me, it’s something. But all that ended when this shit started.”
Maya watched Cameron swipe at another tear, wiping away her haunted past and her uncertain future. From where she sat, Maya could see a purple and black bruise forming on the woman’s face where her fist had landed a few hours earlier.
“I’m sorry that I punched you and tied you up in the basement. My emotions have been running high, and I’ve been through a lot. I just want to get my kids back.”
“Don’t be sorry. I deserved it for acting like a fucking brat.”
Maya laughed and shook her head. “You weren’t. You were trying to cope with this shit, like we’ve all been doing.”
Cameron took her foot off the gas as two deer crossed the highway. One dragged a limp hind leg behind it, the doe’s fur blackened and scorched. While waiting for them to get to the other side, Cameron turned and looked at Maya with red, bloodshot eyes.
“I’ll tell you this much. Gerald has your kids here in Kentucky.”
Maya leaned forward, staring hard into Cameron’s eyes, but not saying a word.
“But I’m not telling you exactly where until I’m sure you won’t throw me out of the truck.”
Maya felt a flutter in her stomach, and the news accelerated her heartbeat more than the coffee had. They were already in Kentucky, which meant they couldn’t be more than an hour or so from wherever Gerald had them.
Maya smiled. “Thank you.”
“Yeah, well, you can thank me when we get there.”
She hit the gas as the injured deer took one last look at the truck before hopping the guard rail. The engine roared as they continued heading west.
15
Reno sat in the back of the military transport with his head against the cold steel and his eyes closed. It felt like years had gone by since he’d had his old life in Nashville, and it worried him that he’d accepted this new world so quickly. He still couldn’t believe it had all happened, and the adrenaline from the situation was only now beginning to fade.
He opened his eyes and looked out the back of the transport where he rode with seven or eight soldiers. Morning had come, bringing with it a clear sky and brilliant sunshine. He was thankful to see the golden light after days of being suffocated beneath the dome’s utter darkness. And he knew they’d be safe from the aliens during the day. They wouldn’t be flying around in the daylight. The ships, however, posed a new threat… but Reno pushed that thought from his head. It felt like worthless worry, to create anxiety over things you couldn’t control. As far as he could tell and from what the soldiers had told him, the ships seemed to stay close to the domes, maybe to protect them. Theories abounded, and it seemed almost impossible to confirm a hypothesis.
A hand grasped him by the shoulder and he looked over to see John smiling at him.
“How you doing, buddy?”
“Good. I guess. You know where we are?”
“We’re on our way to a military base,” one of the soldiers sitting across from them said. He extended his right hand. “I’m Sergeant Matthews, U.S. Army.”
Reno shook the man’s hand, feeling the iron-clad grip of a career military man. Matthews was at least ten years older than Reno, a buzz cut of salt-and-pepper hair, tan and with a long scar running down his face. “This is John, Nashville P.D. And I’m Reno.”
Matthews pointed to Reno’s leg. “How’s that ankle?”
“It’s feeling better.”
“I can have one of my medics take a look at it when we stop.”
“That’d be great. Thanks.”
“That was quite brave what you gentlemen did back there,” Matthews said. “You’re her
oes, you know.”
Reno huffed and shook his head. He’d been called that so many times in his career that it made him uncomfortable every time he heard it—not the sentiment someone would expect when lavishing praise upon an EMT or law enforcement officer. He decided against his pat response, but the line had popped into his head anyway.
Just doing my job.
Thousands of people in Nashville had died, including Jack. On top of that, Reno had no idea if Maya had survived or not. He couldn’t stop thinking about her, wishing he knew for sure if she was all right. Reno swallowed his urge to respond to being called a hero and decided he’d earned the right to ask some questions of those that should have more information than he did.
“Do you know anything about the ships? The domes? The aliens? Like, how many?”
“Right now, we don’t know much. Cell towers are down, so we’re solely dependent on shortwave communication. We’ve gotten sketchy reports from some larger cities—New York, Chicago, Houston, L.A.”
“They’re still there?” John asked.
Sergeant Matthews nodded. “And we’ve gotten word that some of America’s smaller cities have been completely domed like what they did to Nashville. Cleveland, Vegas, Tampa, Memphis—gone or domed. And that’s just the U.S. As far as I know, we’ve been unable to communicate with any of our international allies. But then, that level of comm is above my paygrade.”
“Jesus.” Reno lowered his head, looking at the tops of his boots. He’d seen the destruction in Nashville. And at the time, he’d thought it had only been that city experiencing it. But then, why would this happen in only a single U.S. city? Of course, the devastation had been more widespread.
“The good thing is that we’ve got a pretty safe operation where we’re going. We’ve been able to keep our military somewhat organized through all the chaos.”
“And where might that be?” John asked.
“Fort Campbell.”
Reno had had a friend stationed at Fort Campbell around the time he’d moved to Nashville. The military base was only about an hour and a half’s drive from Nashville, and Reno had gone up to see him a couple of times.
“Have you received any other reports?” Reno asked.
“Washington is a fucking nightmare. Domed, but with heavy resistance and some getting out. Maybe the way your girl did.” Matthews shrugged. “But communication from there has been intermittent and the tech isn’t holding up. We’re getting a lot of static across all the FM and shortwave bands.”
“Estimates on casualties?” John asked.
The sergeant went silent. He and the other soldiers looked at each other, and then he cleared his throat.
“It’s bad. No one knows for sure, but we’ve heard numbers in the billions.”
A cold silence seeped through the back of the transport. Only hours ago, Reno had been celebrating their apparent victory alongside the National Guard. But the news had only gotten worse since he’d come out from under the dome. Other cities had been domed. Some destroyed. Millions of people dead. Reno slumped, and his mouth went dry. He’d just taken a breath to ask a question when an explosion ended the uncomfortable silence.
The transport shook like the highway had been rocked by the seismic temper of an earthquake. Reno slung forward, toppling to the floor of the vehicle. He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see John trying to pull him up. He took John’s arm, who helped him back into his seat.
“Thanks.”
John nodded, then asked, “What was that?”
As the rumbling stopped, Matthews asked the driver, “Did you see what did that?”
“No, sir, Sergeant Matthews.”
Matthews stood and walked to the back of the transport. He looked out, glancing around and then pointing at the sky. Reno knew instantly that the sarge wasn’t admiring the morning’s white, fluffy clouds.
Another man gasped as he looked out. “My God.”
Reno scampered to the back and stood beside Matthews and the other soldier. He followed the Sergeant’s gaze upward.
A celestial rake of red laser beams were cutting through the clouds, and they were heading right for them.
16
Fire erupted thirty feet into the air from where the laser beams had hit the building to the side of the road. Smoke billowed upward in thick, pulsing clouds, and Reno could already see that there was nothing but rubble where the building had once stood. John reached down and offered his hand to Reno, helping him to his feet.
“Shit, man, you alright?”
“I’m fine.” Reno sat back down on the bench seat in the back of the transport. “Where did that come from?”
John shrugged. “No idea.”
“You got a visual on it, Turner?” Sergeant Matthews glared at a young soldier who was looking out the back of the vehicle through binoculars.
“Negative, sir. No sight of anything.”
“Goddamnit.” Matthews pulled the radio off of his belt and raised it to his mouth. “Bulldog 1, did you get a visual on what the hell that was?”
“Negative, Bulldog 2,” a soldier said from the other end.
“Should we fire at it, sir?” one of the soldiers asked.
“Fire at what?” Matthews shook his head and threw his hands into the air. “We don’t know what the fuck it is or where it is. So, for now, you can sit down and not say anything else stupid. You got—”
A second explosion hit the transport, the concussion sending Matthews and another soldier tumbling to the floor. Reno looked outside again to see flames burning the sky, these followed by black smoke. This detonation had felt closer, probably less than half-a-mile away. Reno craned his neck and looked into the sky, but he couldn’t see what was shooting at them. But the strikes seemed to be moving closer.
A couple of soldiers tried to help Matthews to his feet, but he pushed them away, brushing some dirt off his pants. The grizzled soldier chuckled as he pushed away their help.
“Should I stay on this course, sir?” the soldier driving asked.
“Did I tell you otherwise? Stay on course but give ‘er some more gas.”
The transport sped up and Reno looked to John, seeing the man’s mouth open and his forehead creased. Reno had seen firsthand the devastation brought by the aliens. For the first time, he paused to think about the advanced machines and technology they had brought to Earth. Trying to outrun their tech would be pointless. With the thought, Reno worried that Matthews’ arrogance and pride could get him and everyone around him killed. He wanted to caution the sergeant, but the man had already begun barking into his radio again.
“Bulldog 1, do you have visual yet?”
“Not yet, sir. We’re trying to establish some—”
The ground shook again, and this time Reno closed his eyes as the vehicle vibrated, powerful energy waves slamming into the transport like a heavy crosswind on an exposed highway.
“Shit!” the driver screamed.
Reno looked out the front of the transport to see fire and smoke where Bulldog 1 had been. The driver swerved to avoid the wreckage. Reno grabbed a hanging strap and braced himself as the transport went up onto two wheels, then toppled onto its side.
The sound of tearing metal made Reno wince as the smell of diesel fuel and burning rubber burned his eyes. Bodies slammed into his and the men inside the transport screamed as the vehicle slid along the asphalt roadway in a shower of sparks.
When the transport finally came to a stop, Reno looked around. He was on his stomach, unsure if he was on the floor or the roof. A soldier was on Reno’s back, groaning. When Reno asked the man to get up, he didn’t get a reply.
Reno pushed up and tilted his shoulder to the right until the injured man slid off his back. Now on his knees, Reno looked around.
Bodies lay sprawled around the space, a few of them corkscrewed into unnatural positions. The smell of copper filled his nostrils as blood began to pool on the floor. Reno looked down at the soldier who’d been on top of him—
Turner, the man who’d been using binoculars to try and get a visual on the alien ship. The soldier stared upward, eyes open and unblinking with his chest still.
Reno heard a groan from the opposite side of the vehicle.
John rolled over onto his side, facing Reno. He had a cut on his forehead, and blood spider-webbing down his face. Reno slid over to the cop.
“You’re gonna be alright, John.”
“Yeah, I’ll be fine. But look at this, man.”
John’s speech had slurred, like he’d started in on his second six-pack of the night. Reno looked into his eyes—glassy, pupils dilated. Reno took John’s hand and set it over the wound.
“Keep pressure on it.”
Reno looked around then, finding a canvas strap that had come loose from a piece of gear. It wasn’t exactly sterile, but he had to stop the bleeding first and hope they’d live long enough to worry about infection.
“I think they’re all dead,” John said.
Reno pulled the strap tight around John’s head and then scanned the transport. He had no way of knowing if that was true, but he didn’t have the time to do a formal check. Reno couldn’t possibly carry every injured soldier to safety before the aliens finished them off. He paused, interrupted mid-thought by a subtle vibration humming through the transport’s steel frame.
“We’ve got to get out of here.”
“Don’t gotta tell me twice.”
As Reno led John out the rear of the transport, someone groaned. Reno turned around and saw a raised hand. He climbed over the bodies to help the newly discovered survivor.
“Sergeant Matthews.”
Blood ran from Matthews’ nose as he stared up with blank eyes. Reno and John pulled the man into an upright position.
“Can you move, sir?” Reno asked.
“My goddamn arm is broken and I’m pretty sure my kneecap is on the other side of my leg.”
