Brake lights lit up as cars slammed to a halt. Accidents all around him as heads gawked upward.
The rude woman who'd cut him off leaned her head back and almost tripped off the first step. For all his earlier anger, Victor reached out mechanically and got his hand in the middle of her back. She stumbled into him, didn't acknowledge his action, and took a step to the side while still staring upward.
Voices rose in alarm from every direction as the shapes crossed the sky. Hands frantically wiped across bus windows as the occupants struggled to look out and up. One of the passengers wore a pair of oversized headphones and nodded, eyes closed, oblivious to the madness that was occurring.
Victor panicked, grabbing his phone and beating it against his palm. Laura! He had to reach her and tell her that he loved her just one more time. When was the last time he'd even said the words out loud instead of shooting a "Back atcha" or "Me too" whenever she said that she loved him? Too long; far too long, was his guess.
But his phone was barely responsive beneath a spider web of shattered glass.
The woman who had seemed intent on making his day terrible had her phone out, and he nearly ripped it from her, but she dashed away, her travel mug sloshing coffee.
"What do I do now?" he muttered and looked at the bus. The driver stared back at him in shock.
"What's going on out there?"
"I don't know, man. Something in the sky. Look up," Victor yelled.
The bus driver slipped out of his seat and then down the stairs. He craned his neck back and gasped.
A roar built, then intensified until Victor had to slap his hands against his ears. The driver did the same and staggered back onto his bus.
Victor opened his mouth to cry out in terror, but if any sound came out it was washed away by the screaming horror above. Day became brighter still as the object continued its march across the sky. It was so large it defied thought. As it ripped the morning apart, it did so on a trail of fire that scorched the atmosphere.
The sound reached a crescendo, and then started to fade. Victor made for the bus, but the driver was having none of that. He panicked, dove into his seat and slammed the door closed. The bus lurched forward, rolled onto the curb, and then rumbled off with a trail of smoke belching from its exhaust.
The departing bus left the curb with a crunch, sped through a red light and smashed into another bus that had been forced to stop in the middle of an intersection.
Whatever the object in the sky was, Victor had to find somewhere to hide. He looked around in a dread and found a few concrete barricades that were being used to keep cars from cheating a parking lot out of money. He rushed to one and crouched behind it. Another man followed him and did the same. Victor looked into the guy’s eyes and they exchanged an unspoken glance filled with fear and revulsion.
The sky was still as bright as a summer day, and across it roared the object, until a shadow passed over the entire city. Smaller balls of flame followed behind but veered until they were aimed at the ground below.
Victor screamed as a flaming object the size of a small car bombarded the city.
He should run, but what if he ran into wherever the thing struck? He was terrified, stuck in place. Every ounce of willpower was trying to convince him to haul ass to anywhere but here.
"This is not fucking good!" the man next to him yelled.
A small object fell like a lead weight and smashed into the building they were cowering in front of.
Victor thanked his luck and God.
Then something punched him in the back, and he was propelled into the concrete barrier. He didn't have time to question what had struck him before he fell, limply. Just like that, consciousness was gone.
* * *
Victor came to and regretted it.
The world rumbled around him, but along with the noise came a sensation like he was on a slide and about to fall off the edge of the world. His shoulder hurt like crazy! He reached for it and found blood and an object protruding from the wound.
Rain pelted him in the face, so it became a struggle to keep his elbow over his eyes while feeling at the damage. He gave up soon enough because touching the protrusion caused pain to race up and down his arm, neck, and chest.
"You okay, buddy?" an unfamiliar voice asked.
Where was he? Hospital? Hell? Purgatory?
Vic looked around and found that he'd been dragged under the overhang of a building. This part of the city wasn't well-known to him because he usually just caught his bus and didn't stick around any longer than he had to.
Someone grabbed his leg near his ankle, and then he was pulled again. At least that explained the feeling of riding a slide.
"Stop!" he yelled.
"We're almost there. Sorry, buddy, I didn't know what else to do. You were lying on the sidewalk in the rain, with blood pouring out of your shoulder. You okay? I tried to call an ambulance, but they didn't pick up."
Blood? Ambulance? Then it came back to him. The object in the sky and something falling toward him. Something silvery that caught the sun's reflection and temporarily blinded him.
"The asteroid? Did it hit?" he asked, though he knew the answer already, since he was still alive and breathing.
"I don't think it was an asteroid, but whatever it was passed over the city and kept heading toward the coast. Damnedest thing I ever saw."
The man was in his early fifties, going by his appearance. Grey beard, and hair to match, which had well and truly receded into a bowl cut. His eyes were sharp, though, and that made Victor feel a hell of a lot better.
"What happened to me?"
"I don't know, buddy, but I'm real sorry to say this is all I can do. I gotta figure out how to get back to my family. You understand, right? You got a family?"
"I do, but please don't leave me, man. I'm bleeding."
"Not much. I'd stay, I really would. You have a cell phone, right?"
"I dropped it and the screen broke."
"Bad luck." He looked up and caught the eye of an Asian woman hurrying past.
"Miss, miss!" the man called. She looked at them and doubled her step.
The old guy got to his feet and rushed after her. He moved into her path and spoke with the diminutive figure.
"He's hurt. Call an ambulance, please!" he said, and then the guy was off like a shot.
"Oh, fuck me," Victor said. He knew the woman wasn't going to stick around and help some stranger. She'd be off just like the older guy, but was Victor any better? If someone stopped him on the street and begged him to call 911 would he do it, or make it anyone's problem but theirs?
Something buzzed around in the back of his mind like an annoying fly. Strange. Victor was overcome by lethargy. No. Something was talking to him back there. Something—or someone—and it was genuinely bizarre.
Much to his surprise, the woman came toward him. Her step was tentative, and when she got closer he saw that she was young and cute. If this was about to be his Mother Teresa, at least he was in good company. She had short, dark hair that covered one eye. Must be weird having one eye always behind a veil, Victor reflected.
"You okay?" she asked as she leaned over and looked at the blood. Her lips pulled back in a gasp.
"No, I'm not okay. Please call 911. Something's stuck in my shoulder."
She knelt beside him, even though it was into a puddle, and touched his jacket. She slid the zipper down so she could slip the coat open, then pulled the left side open until she could see his wound.
"Nothing here. Blood," she said, and their eyes met.
"It must have come out. Christ, it hurts so bad! I don't guess you have some Tylenol or something stronger on you?" He tried to sound flippant, but he hurt too much to be in a humorous spirit.
The buzzing wouldn’t go away, and it was driving him crazy. He clenched his eyes and rubbed his temples. Was he dying? Was this how his world ended? Bleeding out on a sidewalk in Seattle?
She took a handkerchief from her pocket and
looked at it. Oh no, if she was sneezing on that thing, he didn't want it on his flesh. She might be a looker but that wouldn't save him from an infection.
She dug around in her bag and came out with a package of tissues. The girl pulled out a wad of them, then slipped her cold hand inside his shirt until she had the tissues over the wound. She pressed down hard enough to make him see stars.
"Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!" he gasped, again and again.
"Sorry," she said, and she did look sorry. She looked downright miserable as she took his hand in hers and guided it to the wound. "Hold here. Help comes."
"Thank you. What's your name?"
"Kimiko. I'm Kimiko. Nice to meet you."
"You're very kind, but I can't imagine this is in any way nice," he said.
She looked at him quizzically, but he didn't offer any follow-up questions. What was wrong with him? He’d been stabbed by something, left to bleed out, and all he could think about was being a smartass.
She glanced over her shoulder and up at the sky, worry etched on her face.
"You know, finding a guy on the ground with all this stuff going on overhead. It's just nice of you to stop. Thank you for helping me."
"You are welcome." She smiled and pushed a wet strand of black hair out of her eyes, leaving a streak of his blood across her brow.
"Oh no. I'm sorry," he said.
His words sounded hollow, and he had the urge to take the tissue from his shoulder and wipe her face. Then something lurched inside him, near the wound, and pain made him nauseous. It started in his shoulder and sent pulsing waves along his spine and sides. He tried to wave at her face, unthinking, only to find that his arm wouldn't respond.
Kimiko had her phone out and dialed over and over again. She hunched over and used her jacket’s hood to keep the phone from getting soaked.
"Oh, oh! Answer," she said, and handed him the phone.
Victor gave her a tight smile, took the phone in his left hand, and slowly tilted his head to avoid straining the damaged muscle too much, but it wasn't enough: he saw stars. He wanted to bite down on his tongue. His teeth ached as the pain overrode all other senses.
The buzzing was still in the back of his head. It whispered to him, and tried to reassure him, but there were still no words, just the feeling of peace.
Something wrenched in his arm again and he cried out. He reached out and grabbed hold of the curb, squeezed, and wept as the waves of pain built and washed over his body.
Then the ache faded and he felt—better? Not better; he felt different. It was the same feeling he used to get when he'd been a runner. After the first few miles, he’d reached a state of mind that was almost like ecstasy. It was called "runner’s high," but that made absolutely no sense.
“Sir? Hello?” A female voice on the phone said.
"Ah crap, sorry, sorry. My name is Victor Barnes and I'm at the corner of…" He kept talking until he felt like he was going to pass out. Ten minutes later, the glare of flashing lights and the sound of a siren brought him out of his near-fugue state.
"Saved at last."
When he looked around, Kimiko was nowhere to be found, nor was the phone he'd been talking into. At least she'd stuck around until she knew help was on the way.
The Victor noticed that the small section of curb he’d been clutching in pain had been crushed into chunks of concrete and powder.
About the Author
Timothy W. Long has been writing tales and stories since he could hold a crayon and has read enough books to choke a landfill. Tim has a predilection for weird literature, and a deep-seated need to jot words on paper and thrust them at people.
Tim spent time in the US Navy, worked for a major game corporation, an aeronautics company, and he was in the IT field for the last 15 years as an engineer before becoming a full time author. He is an active member of Horror Writers Association, SFWA, and International Thriller Writers.
Tim is the author of 16 novels and resides outside of Seattle where he spends time with his partner in crime, author and publisher Katie Cord. As well as 2 children, 4 dogs of various sizes and dispositions, a slightly psychotic Bengal cat named LucyFurr, and a near constant supply of overpriced and overcooked coffee beans.
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Also by Timothy W. Long
Among the Living (Permuted Press)
Among the Dead (Permuted Press)
Beyond the Barriers (Permuted Press)
Beyond the Barriers: Ghouls
At the Behest of the Dead
The Zombie Wilson Diaries
The Apocalypse and Satan’s Glory Hole w/Jonathan Moon
Z-Risen 1: Outbreak
Z-Risen 2: Outcasts
Z-Risen 3: Poisoned Earth
Z-Risen 4: Reavers
Z-Risen 5: Barriers (forthcoming)
The Front: Screaming Eagles w/David Moody and Craig DiLouie
Impact Earth 1: Symbiosis
Impact Earth 2: Metastasis (forthcoming)
Damaged w/Tim Marquitz
DRUMS OF WAR: A Dystopian Thriller Series (Broken Patriot Book 1) Page 25
