Meteor

by Brad Knight

“What’s that?” asked Brandon, gesturing out the passenger window.

  In the distance, an open field stood under a copse of trees. Under regular circumstances it would have been a beautiful spot. If the sunlight had been strong enough the grass there would have been dappled with gold and shimmered, as the wind blew the leaves of the tall tress surrounding the large patch of land.

  Brandon, of course, had not pointed out this place’s potential splendor but rather was curious about the towering piles of garbage littering the landscape. Industrial sized black trash bags covered the ground for a radius of fifty yards and looked to be stacked taller than Brandon himself. Loose bits of paper and cardboard swirled around this landfill in the biting wind.

  “Looks like a garbage dump.” Troy stopped the truck in the center of the washed-out road and put a pair of binoculars to his eyes. “There are people here. This is their designated landfill. I don’t see anyone from here but the cabins are still about a mile down the road. I don’t know if we should turn back or take the chance they’re friendly.”

  “Maybe we should go the rest of the way on foot. Be a little sneaky. They’ll hear us coming in the truck but we could probably circle around in the woods and not be seen,” Caleb suggested.

  Troy nodded and scanned the horizon through the binoculars once more. “Here, check behind me. Make sure there’s no one around.”

  Caleb took the binoculars from him and stepped out of the truck. As the day wore on the temperature dropped noticeably but Caleb did not seem bothered by the chill. His coat flapped in the wind and his newly shorn hair lifted from his scalp in rhythmic bursts as he did a full three-sixty to check their surroundings.

  “I got nothing,” he said.

  “Okay. I guess we head out. I don’t have a better idea at this point. I just hope we’re not walking into a civil war.”

  With their heads up on high alert for any movements in the woods, the trio slung weapons over their shoulders and walked in a single file line towards the hunting cabins. Brandon scuffed his feet with every step, kicking small pebbles and puffs of chemical-laced dust up around his boots.

  ‘Stop that, son. We need to be quiet. We are most likely in danger here,” Troy said through clenched teeth. He sighed and reminded himself silently that Brandon was just a kid. He had expected more of both his children in the last six months than anyone ever should. They had all been through Hell, just not as many layers of it as other people thanks to Troy’s preparedness.

  Fat lot of good being prepared was doing him now. He had a bunker rapidly filling with unbreathable gas and toxic radiation levels while the world was beginning to shake itself apart thanks to multiple earthquakes.

  Troy was lost in thoughts along this vein as they crested a small hill. Thirty yards to their left stood the first hunting cabin, nestled in a thick stand of trees. Troy silently gestured for Caleb and Brandon to get off the road. All three men sunk down into an awkward, loping walk until they had reached a blackberry bramble growing tall and stout only a few feet from the cabin’s back porch. Through the thorny bushes they watched for a long moment and saw no motion behind the cabin’s curtained windows. No one came or went and no sounds were heard from inside.

  “I don’t think anyone’s in there,” Caleb whispered.

  From directly behind their heads came the click of a gun being readied and a deep, male voice whispered, “You’re right, we’re all out here.”

  “Put your guns on the ground and your hands on your heads,” said a different voice, not unkindly but in an authoritative voice. A voice that was accustomed to being obeyed.

  Troy, Caleb, and Brandon looked at each other, unsure. Troy gave a slight nod of his head and they placed their guns gently on the ground, moving slowly. Three sets of hands crept up to lace fingers behind three heads and a long tense moment passed where nothing else happened.

  Troy sensed rather than saw the man behind him lower his gun as he approached him. He felt hands haul him up by his left bicep and push him roughly into the blackberry bushes. Two other men followed suit with Brandon and Caleb until all three trespassers were facing who they assumed to be the residents of the cabin.

  “Here’s what’s about to happen. You gentlemen are going to leave. Immediately if not sooner. You came here in a vehicle?”

  No one answered. The man pursed his lips and asked again, “Did you come here in a vehicle?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good, faster exit that way. My associates and I will escort you back from whence you came and you will stay the hell off our land.”

  “We need a place to stay. We have to leave the place we’ve been living because it isn’t safe any longer.”

  “Not my problem. Don’t you have a home to go to?”

  “It’s not safe either, man. Do you know what the neighborhoods around here look like? Scorched earth. Burnt up corpses on the ground. Too out in the open, not enough security.”

  “Yea, I know. That’s why my crew and I are here. But, like I said, not my problem.”

  Troy wished he had the bear trap from the gate in his hand right then. He thought to himself that he would take the far end of the heavy chain in his hand, swing the long-toothed jaws in circles like a lasso until it had enough velocity to break the heartless man’s own jaw and knock him on the ground. Troy imagined the moment of impact with mingled joy and regret that it couldn’t come true. The man’s voice pulled him from his reverie. “Let’s go.”

  Their adventure was over before it had truly begun. Troy, Caleb, and Brandon were outmanned. A fourth man and a small but strong-looking woman had joined the welcome party. They weren’t visibly armed but it was likely they had weapons on their person somewhere.

  “How many people live here? There are at least four cabins on this land. Are they all full?” Troy asked as they made their way back down the road towards the truck.

  At first, no one answered and Troy was certain they hadn’t heard him, as loudly as the wind was howling now, he thought it was possible. Layered over the fierce wail of the wind came then, as Troy waited for an answer he believed he would never get, a much deeper growl.

  Completely unrecognizable to anyone in the welcome party, the sound continued to grow closer and louder as the seconds passed. The trees lining the road began to tremble, shaking loose brown, gnarled leaves along with the few acorns or other nuts hardy enough to have survived the acid rain and toxic air.

  The group was now close enough to the truck to hear the metallic ping the nuts made as they bounced off the hood. Everyone squinted against the lashing of the debris now swirling in the cold airstream blowing all around them. The tires of the truck skidded sideways as they watched in disbelief.

  They began to feel the tremors beneath their feet. To Troy, who had grown up in the Midwest and often run alongside trains as a teenager, usually trying to impress a girl, it felt like a thirty ton train rumbling down the tracks. Only now the tracks were directly below his feet and he was directly in the path of the oncoming locomotive.

  One percussive crash knocked everyone on their backsides. The welcome party lay sprawled beside their weapons, unable to point them at Troy and his group any longer as they bounced on the shaky ground. In unspoken agreement, Brandon, Troy and Caleb took off at a crawl over the undulating ground, never looking back at the residents of the hunting club.

  As he fumbled the truck keys out of his pocket, Troy heard the appointed leader yell. “Yes, there are four cabins and they’re all full. If I see any of your faces around here again, I’ll shoot without asking any more questions.” Troy and the others believed him.

  “At least they didn’t have an incinerator,” Caleb said solemnly.

  Brandon was the first to laugh and it became infectious. Soon the cab of the truck was filled with maniacal laughter as the men released all the pent up fear and tension of the past hour. They laughed until tears rolled down their faces and their cheeks ached. They laughed as the road disappeared behind them and the bunker came
into sight ahead.

  They laughed until they noticed the two charred corpses lying in front of the bunker only a few feet from the flames pouring out of the open door.

  Chapter 15

  Caleb was the first to tumble from the truck before it even stopped moving. He loosed a strangled cry as he sped across the blackened grass to the flaming door, searching for a way in. Brandon, seated in the middle truck seat, sat stunned for a moment as he watched Caleb tear out toward the conflagration.

  “Here,” Troy cried after he slammed the truck’s gearshift into park. He fumbled with the latch on the truck’s toolbox, desperately hoping for a fire extinguisher. Luck smiled on him and he pulled out a full sized fire extinguisher in bright red.

  Caleb met him halfway and took the thing, pulling the pin even as he turned his back to the truck and rushed toward the blasted door once again. He disappeared in a white fog of flame dousing spray. Troy could hear his coughs through the gloom. He put an arm around Brandon’s shoulder and together they approached the scene of horror. Fear for his wife and daughter sat like a boulder in Troy’s stomach.

  Silent tears streaked down Brandon’s face, exhaustion written there too deeply to believe he was only sixteen. This couldn’t be happening. They had only been gone for an hour, maybe two. Something bad had obviously happened in their absence and Troy cursed the skies. He cursed God, he cursed the meteor that had ruined the world.

  Troy squatted beside one of the burnt bodies, searching for signs that he recognized. He gingerly lifted one of the hands in his, examining the fingers for a familiar wedding band. Shreds of grey-black skin like charcoal rained down from between his fingers and he had to swallow hard to keep from vomiting. He saw no wedding ring.

  On closer inspection the body appeared to be male. A quick glance at the other body confirmed the same. Two males, charbroiled to a crisp. Relief flooded Troy’s body and turned his limbs to water. He sank down to the ground on his knees, squeezing Brandon’s shoulder as he did. He looked to his right and truly noticed the boy for the first time since this drama began to unfold.

  “It’s not Mom… or Cordelia.” Brandon’s eyes were as big as planets and he began to sob in earnest, all the fear draining out of him.

  “Then… where… are… they?” he asked between hiccupping sobs.

  Just then, Caleb emerged from the smoking, melted door frame in a panic.

  “They’re not inside. I looked everywhere. The fire hadn’t spread too far, just barely into the kitchen. This happened only a few minutes before we drove up. They can’t be far.”

  Visions of vicious kidnappers, people desperate enough to do anything to another human being filled Troy’s head. He rose to his feet and looked in the direction of their house. Neglected as it was, it was the most obvious choice for shelter and safety from wandering thugs.

  Picking up his gun once more, Troy took off at a sprint towards the house. He had to high step through the overgrown grass and weeds. A light rain had begun to fall as his steps thudded up the back porch stairs. Brandon was only a few steps behind him. Caleb was still sniffing around the bunker, putting out small grass fires with the extinguisher.

  The back door of their home was still securely locked. The place looked untouched since they left months ago. Acid rain and biting winds had stripped most of the trees in the yard; their skeleton branches would look more at home in a cemetery than in a suburban backyard. Brandon shuddered visibly.

  “You okay?” Troy asked as he jiggled the lock on the kitchen door. He flipped up the badly worn rubber door mat and was shocked to find that an extra house key was still in its place beneath. The acid rain had thoroughly rusted the key but it slid straight into the lock on the first try. He pushed the door open gently with his shoulder, gun raised like in a crime drama ready to shoot.

  “Hello?” he called out to the quiet musty house. As soon as he spoke he heard a shriek come from upstairs. It sounded female so he chanced another shout.

  “It’s Troy and Brandon. Are you here, Mary? Cordelia?” his voice carried throughout the house and he heard an actual gasp come from wherever the girls were hidden.

  “Troy? Really?”

  It was Mary’s voice. Troy couldn’t recall ever being happier in his life, not even on their wedding day or the days of their children’s births. A barrage of footsteps brought three disheveled, smoke-stained, and teary-eyed women into the kitchen. But they were alive. They were blessedly alive and did not appear to be physically hurt.

  Hannah and Cordelia clung to each other, standing directly behind Mary until they saw Troy’s concerned face. Cordelia burst from Hannah’s grasp and threw herself into her father’s arms. Mary followed with a look on her face that said Troy was her biggest hero.

  Hannah only had to stand awkwardly for less than a minute as the group hug went on beside her. Brandon stepped through the kitchen door and put his arms around her shoulders in what would forever be the sweetest hug of Hannah’s life.

  “Are you girls okay?” Troy asked.

  “Yes, we’re all fine, just very shaken up. These two men were battering the door with a 2x4 and we didn’t know what else to do. We yelled and warned them a bunch of times, Troy. I didn’t want to burn them…” Mary’s voice cracked as she relived the terror of setting another person on fire. Troy held her as she cried and then encouraged her to tell the rest of what happened.

  “Well, they just wouldn’t stop. They came hammering and hammering so as they stepped back to run again I let out a little burst of flames, you know on the lowest setting like you showed me. I guess it just made them mad because they didn’t stop. I could see their faces get angrier and that made me angry so when they came running again, I turned the incinerator up and let them have it again. That time the man in front’s shirt and hat caught fire but he just threw them off and picked up the post for another run.” Her words came out in a pained rush as she stroked her hair compulsively throughout the retelling.

  She went on, “I don’t know what happened then. I did something wrong. The incinerator malfunctioned or something. After the second burst of fire I could tell something wasn’t right. It got really hot in the foyer and I could see the edges of the building around the door start to turn red hot. We didn’t have a choice except to open the door and walk out. I was so scared, Troy. The men weren’t dead when we ran by. They were screaming and trying to stop, drop, and roll, I guess.” A tiny laugh escaped her lips. “It’s not funny, I know but I feel a little crazy right now.”

  Troy took her again fully into an embrace and said, “You did the right thing. We knew we were about to be forced from the bunker. It’s okay, honey. It’s okay.” He repeated this mantra many times before she stopped crying.

  As her tears subsided, Caleb walked onto the porch and looked inside.

  “Is this our new home sweet home?”

  It was funny how quickly he had become a part of the family that had grown since the meteor struck. Looking at Caleb and Hannah made Troy feel ashamed for not offering help to anyone in the early days.

  He thought of Steve and Ken but quickly put him out of his mind. He didn’t want to be reminded of his wife’s affair or the fact that he had let a friend die. He told himself that he had done what was necessary and to let it go.

  Troy still held onto the fact that no one knew just how awful it was going to be. He walked through his house which now felt like an abandoned mausoleum to the front door, swiping his finger through the inch of dust on the surfaces of bookshelves and countertops. He stepped out onto the front porch into the thin cold light and surveyed his old street.

  A few neighbors were outdoors. It might have been only wishful thinking but Troy thought the sky looked clearer than it had just that morning. Of course, that morning seemed a million years ago by this time. Time had lost all meaning between the terrorists at the hunting club and the terror of thinking his family dead or missing. Troy looked down at his watch and was surprised to find it was only three in the afterno
on. It felt like he had run two marathons and it should be midnight. For lack of a better idea, he sat down on the front porch steps. Mary came to sit beside him.

  “I’m so glad you’re back. Safe.”

  “Me too. We almost weren’t.”

  Mary opened her eyes wide in question and waited for Troy to explain. “The hunting club is a no-go. There are some jerks already living there. They ran us off at gunpoint. Well, they tried to but then the earthquake hit…”

  “Earthquake?” Mary said. “There was an earthquake?”

  “Yea, you guys didn’t feel it in the bunker?” Mary shook her head and gave a small shrug. “No, not at all.”

  Troy allowed himself a second of pride in the solid construction of the bunker. So sturdy they didn’t even feel an earthquake, he thought to himself. But then he remembered the melted façade and that the bunker was now essentially useless and let his ego fall back to earth.

  “So anyway, you were saying. Some jerks chased you guys off the hunting lands.”

  Troy recounted the whole story from beginning to end even though there wasn’t much to tell. The guys at the hunting lodge hadn’t been particularly dangerous; they were just trying to hold onto what they had. Troy actually respected them for that. It was nothing less than what he would’ve done in the same situation. Nothing less than what he had in fact done even when faced with the loss of a good friend right before his eyes.

  He turned to Caleb and asked about the condition of the bunker. What he wanted to do was tune into whatever news may still be coming in about the earthquakes and the status of everything.

  “Well, if you don’t mind the smell of burnt metal and smoke then, yea, I think we can spend a few minutes inside watching the news.”

  Hannah and Cordelia had been quiet throughout this exchange. Both girls looked shell-shocked and pale. They had certainly not recovered from the ordeal with the incinerator. “Dad?” Cordelia said. “Do we have to go back in there? I really don’t want to.” Her voice was steady as she spoke but her lip trembled on the last word.