Revelations

by Robert Storey

  Albuquerque, United States.

  The food store bustled with activity. Chattering voices and the beeping of barcode readers resounded throughout. School holidays meant an influx of people to the local high street, which made Rebecca’s job harder. She worked as a carer for adults with mental health problems and less people made her life much easier.

  At the moment she was taking one of her primary wards out with her to get some weekly food supplies. Joseph required constant attention which made most activities difficult; he enjoyed the trips, however, so she did her best to make sure she took him as often as she could.

  Picking up some bananas she placed them in the basket that Joseph held for her.

  ‘Nanas!’ Joseph said with a big grin on his face.

  Rebecca smiled at him and touched his arm fondly. ‘That’s right, your favourite. Now I need some breakfast cereal,’ she said to him, although it was more to herself as Joseph only had a very limited vocabulary and understanding of language. She’d spied what she wanted, but the next aisle was too crowded to take Joseph there without disturbing others and potentially scaring him. Bound to a tight schedule, she glanced at her watch.

  ‘Joseph, stand here and I will be right back.’ She put the basket on the floor by his feet and held both his arms by his side and pointed at the floor. ‘Stay here, Joseph, okay?’

  Joseph looked at her and beamed.

  She couldn’t help but smile back. ‘Stay HERE. Okay? I won’t be long.’

  Joseph nodded his head and pointed at the floor. ‘Here!’ he repeated, still smiling.

  ‘Yes, here.’ She pointed at the floor again and then went off down the next aisle. As she neared the end, she looked round; the back of Joseph’s head could just be seen peeking out past a shelf. Satisfied he was doing as he was told, she bent down and picked up the box she wanted. As she lifted it the bottom opened and the bag fell out and split, the contents going everywhere. People looked round at the noise and moved out of the way as she scrabbled to clear up the mess. A shop assistant who’d heard the commotion came round the corner and began helping her.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ Rebecca said to her. ‘The bottom was undone and the bag split and it just went whoosh!’

  The woman laughed. ‘Don’t worry, dear, these things happen. No harm done.’

  ‘Thank you, I—’ She stood up, remembering Joseph was waiting for her. ‘I’m sorry, I have to go.’

  The assistant looked bewildered as Rebecca rushed off.

  When she got to the end of the aisle, Joseph was nowhere to be seen. With panic setting in, she looked with ever-increasing desperation from aisle to aisle. There was no sign of him.

  ‘Has anyone seen a dark-haired man, about this high?’ Rebecca held her hand up above her head as she went from person to person. ‘Joseph!’ she called. ‘Joseph, where are you?! Joseph!’ She raced out of the shop and heard Joseph’s cries coming from the right. Rushing along the street, she approached a group of youths who were huddled together looking down at the ground and laughing. Joseph’s sobs could be heard over their voices.

  ‘Get out of the way!’ she shouted, pushing her way through. She found Joseph on the ground, crying and frightened. He’d wet himself. Rebecca bent down and brought him close to comfort him. He grabbed onto her, burying his face in her shoulder.

  ‘It’s all right, Joseph. I’m here,’ she told him soothingly. ‘I’m here now.’

  She glared up at the young men who had begun to walk away, still cracking jokes at Joseph’s expense.

  ‘Oh, has poor little Joseph’s mommy come to protect him,’ one of the men said.

  ‘I wouldn’t mind getting a cuddle, too, mommy,’ said another, smirking.

  Rebecca said nothing as she didn’t want to scare Joseph further. He wouldn’t be able to distinguish between her being angry with them from being angry with him. She helped him to his feet after he had calmed down and brushed him off. His soft, light blue jogging bottoms had a big wet patch on them, which people stared at as they went past, making Joseph uncomfortable with the attention and Rebecca angry that his dignity had been compromised.

  Looking around she guided Joseph to the only shop nearby that had trousers in the window. As they entered a bell jingled, announcing them to the shopkeeper, who stood behind the counter serving a man and a little boy. A sign indicated the trousers were located at the back of the store, which was stocked full of army surplus and military type clothing.

  ‘No changing room,’ Rebecca mumbled to herself. ‘Wonderful.’ After taking a quick glance around, Rebecca quickly slipped Joseph’s trousers off, plucked a pair of camo trousers from a rack and redressed him, as he wriggled and writhed in protest. Standing back to admire him in his new attire, she was pleased as they were a near perfect fit. Joseph had always liked watching military parades on TV and as he looked around he caught sight of a poster of an officer saluting. He suddenly went bolt upright and mimicked the pose. A chuckle came from behind them, making Rebecca jump.

  ‘He looks good in those, just the part,’ the shopkeeper said.

  Joseph giggled and relaxed back into his normal slouch. The man quickly covered his confusion at Joseph’s childlike demeanour with a grin, recognising his apparent disability.

  ‘Would sir like anything else from the store?’ he asked Joseph, who was busy playing with the waist cord.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ – Rebecca whipped up Joseph’s wet attire from the floor – ‘we just needed some pants. It was an emergency.’

  ‘No need to be embarrassed,’ the man said. ‘My dear old mother, God rest her soul, had incontinence for years; I was forever changing her clothes. If only they’d had those adult diapers it would’ve saved me a lot of trouble and washing of hands!’

  Rebecca laughed in spite of herself, relaxing in the jovial old man’s company.

  ‘Did you want me to put those in a bag for you?’ He pointed to the clothing in her hand.

  ‘Yes, please, that’s very kind of you.’

  ‘No problem at all,’ he said, smiling, ‘it’s all part of the service.’

  They followed the man back to the front of the shop where a young boy jumped out on them, making shooting noises with a toy gun.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said the man accompanying him, ‘he’s got a bit excited.’

  Joseph laughed and began making shooting noises back at the child, who gleefully chased him round and round a display cabinet.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Rebecca said. ‘He looks very cute, your son.’

  ‘Thanks, although he’s not my son, he’s my nephew. He just loves all things military.’

  ‘Joseph loves the parades.’

  ‘And guns, too, by the look of it,’ the man said.

  Rebecca looked round to see Joseph had picked up a replica machine gun and now chased after the boy with it.

  ‘Joseph, no!’ Rebecca said. ‘Put that down!’ She didn’t want him getting used to holding, or to like holding, a gun. Mentally disabled people and weapons of any kind didn’t mix.

  The shopkeeper had come back with a bag and handed it to Rebecca. He made pistols of his hands and pointed them at Joseph, making pow pow noises. Joseph grinned and held up his hands, dropping the rifle to the floor.

  ‘Oh, I’m so sorry.’ Rebecca rushed to pick up the gun, but the shopkeeper got to it first.

  ‘No harm done,’ he said, smiling reassuringly at her as he stowed it behind the counter.

  ‘Is it damaged?’

  ‘It will cost about two hundred dollars to repair.’

  ‘Oh dear.’ Rebecca felt sick. ‘I don’t have that kind of money on me.’

  ‘I’m only kidding,’ the shopkeeper said, ‘sorry, poor joke.’

  Rebecca gave a nervous laugh, relieved as she didn’t have two hundred dollars to spare, on her or otherwise.

  ‘Right, I’ll leave you to it,’ said man with his nephew. ‘It was nice to meet you both.’

  ‘Goodbye,’ she said, ‘nice to meet you, to
o.’

  Joseph waved goodbye to the little boy, who waved back, the door ringing as they left. Rebecca paid for the trousers, thanked the man again for his help and bade him farewell.

  On their way back home they passed a lamppost plastered with various information and warning flyers from Government and local agencies. One read:

  IMPACT DAY PREPARATIONS

  AFTER FEBRUARY 9th 2040

  DAILY CURFEW

  19:00

  ENFORCED BY

  NATIONAL GUARD

  LOCAL POLICE SERVICE

  Another read:

  IMPACT DAY PREPARATIONS

  FOOD RATION CARDS

  COLLECT FROM YOUR LOCAL

  GOVERNMENT OFFICE

  Another:

  IMPACT DAY PREPARATIONS

  RIOTERS AND LOOTERS

  WILL BE SHOT ON SIGHT

  Rebecca looked up at the sky. She couldn’t see any sign of the meteor yet, but there was still two weeks to go. Supposedly in the days prior to impact it would be visible to the naked eye at different times of the day and night as its trajectory brought it closer to its final destination. She sent a silent prayer to God to give her the strength to protect those she cared for in the coming months and years, which would see day turned to night.

  ♦

  Rebecca sat watching the television after Joseph had been put to bed at the care home. She had a small apartment on the grounds, as did a few other carers who worked alongside her. It was convenient and cheap, which was lucky as her wages meant she struggled to pay her bills on a weekly basis. The news was filled with the same old stories of how governments were gearing up for the dust cloud, and images from Washington D.C. where the President issued yet more words about how the whole world was ready for the impending disaster and calling for calm.

  She switched channels, but wherever she looked more of the same greeted her. The closer it got to Impact Day, more and more TV channels focused in on the event. Even fictional programmes had storylines based on it to add to their realism. She finally settled on a small local independent channel, and while it still covered Impact Day, it was more down to earth and realistic than the other channels, which sensationalised the whole thing almost beyond imagination.

  The show’s presenter had a couple of townspeople on and was asking them how they were being affected, discussing things like rubbish collections, postal deliveries and whether the lawn mower would be able to run on chip fat due to the ongoing fuel shortages.

  ‘—well thank you, Margaret,’ the presenter was saying, ‘for that insight into how gasoline lawnmowers can be made to run on chip oil. And now let’s speak to Dwain and Emma who are outside looking at how you can protect yourself against intruders and rioters who may target your home for wanton looting and mayhem.’

  So much for not sensationalising things, Rebecca thought with a wry smile. The camera switched to a view of the outside where they had a mock-up of a house frontage, complete with door and windows.

  ‘So, Emma, when the dust cloud sends people a bit ga ga and turns day into a thief’s wonderland, what can you do to protect yourself and the ones you love?’

  ‘Thank you, Dwain. Well, for a start you need to make sure you have your doors locked and windows shut and bolted even before the curfew has started. Remember daylight hours will no longer be light when the cloud is overhead so treat the day like you would the night. Be wary, as darkness is when criminals like to operate and a permanent twenty-four hour night will make their lives easier and yours more dangerous.’

  Emma looked at the camera. ‘But we can help you improve your chances of getting through the coming years in safety and with peace of mind.’ She moved to the entrance of the fake house. ‘First of all we have this super strong nano fibre door frame and brace. Simply fitting behind your door, it acts as an impenetrable barrier to your home if the door itself is breached.’

  ‘And this will work for the windows as well?’ Dwain said, impressed.

  ‘Of course,’ Emma replied, ‘the company that produces these anti-intruder doors also provides a wide range of window fittings which do the same job if your window is smashed.’

  ‘And the price?’ Dwain asked her.

  ‘It is reasonably cheap at three hundred dollars for the door and fifty to two hundred and fifty dollars per window, depending on aperture size.’

  ‘Wow, that is reasonable! And we’ll be showing the viewer where they can get these at the end of the programme. What else have you got to show us, Emma?’

  ‘We have these powerful pepper sprays and high powered catapults for those that don’t have access to guns. They can be very effective at deterring all but the most determined of unwanted visitors.’

  ‘So what should someone do if they are confronted by a raging mob?’

  ‘Stay inside and try and frighten them off by whatever means available. Of course there will be a strong military presence on the streets at all times, but there is a limit to how many places they can be at once. If in doubt, hide or run away. You can rebuild and repair a house, but you may not be able to repair yourself.’

  ‘Wise words, Emma, thank you; and it’s back to you in the studio.’

  ‘Thank you, Dwain and Emma. We’ll be broadcasting further sets on this topic every day this week, so tune in for more handy tips and tricks to help with your Impact Day preparations.’

  Rebecca zoned the TV out and thought about how the care home could prevent getting embroiled in any such problems. The main building itself was secure, but it wouldn’t withstand an assault. It was also in a bad position; it bordered on a large, poor, housing estate located a significant way away from the stores and more prosperous areas of the town. Not the best place to be, she thought. They’d had trouble anyway, even as recently as last week when some kids had pelted the building with rocks and bottles. The janitor had scared them off eventually, but some damage had been done and many of the residents had been scared, especially patients like Joseph, who had cried all the way through the incident. It had taken her the rest of the day to calm him back down again.

  A beeper sounded in the kitchen, the noise bringing Rebecca back to the present, prompting her to go to the washing machine. She extracted Joseph’s now clean jogging pants and hung them out to dry on an airer. She thought about his camouflage trousers and the nice man at the surplus store and had an idea as to how they might protect the home and the residents. It will cost, she reasoned, but it should work. She got up, put her coat on and went out, the television still droning on as the door swung shut behind her.

  ♦

  The military surplus shopkeeper, Darren, was shutting up shop. It was four in the afternoon, but with a seven o’clock curfew he needed to shut then in order to get home, get the shopping and do some house repairs. Just as he pulled down the last shutter on the door a pair of woman’s shoes appeared.

  ‘We’re closing, sorry. Come back tomorrow.’

  ‘Hello, it’s me,’ said a voice that sounded familiar.

  He pulled the shutter back up and saw that it was the woman who’d been in his shop with the simple man earlier that day. ‘Hello, did you forget something?’ he asked her.

  ‘No,’ she said, her expression determined, ‘but I really need your help.’

  Chapter Ten

  It had taken Sarah, Trish and Jason the whole day to get back to the Turkish town. Thankfully they had passed a small village on the way, enabling them to take on some much-needed water. Darkness had asserted itself by the time they got to a rundown hotel where Sarah got a room with the meagre amount of money that Carl, the turncoat cum infiltrator, had given her. They traipsed up the wooden stairs and opened the door to the sparse double room. The three of them went in and all but fell down onto the two beds, exhaling great groans of relief as aching muscles were soothed and relaxed.

  Since they had worked all through the previous night, followed by the gruelling walk to the village, they all slept until ten the next day. After cleaning themselves up as be
st they could with zero supplies and only the amenities provided by the hotel, they sat on the beds and discussed their options as to what to do next.

  ‘Well, I guess by now the site has been stripped clean or is still under guard,’ Sarah said. ‘We might be able to follow them at a safe distance, though, see where they go; maybe even retrieve the bones or some of the relics from the canister.’

  ‘What,’ Jason said, incredulous, ‘are you thinking of going back there?’

  ‘Err – yeah. It’s the biggest find of my career, possibly in history,’ Sarah said with real feeling, an edge of anger to her voice, ‘you think I’m going to give it up? Not likely!’

  The fact that these military types might be linked to her mother’s death also meant Sarah now had a lead, whereas before she’d had none; it was a stroke of luck delivered within a poisoned chalice, but one she couldn’t allow to slide. She couldn’t help but blame herself for her mother’s death, although she knew she hadn’t pulled the trigger; I just loaded the gun, she thought with bitter remorse.

  No, whoever had started that fire – ordered it and planned it – was as culpable as she, and Sarah would not rest until some semblance of justice prevailed; she owed her mother that much at least. Never one to come at something from a single angle, Sarah would also make it her mission in life to expose whoever attempted to cover up the existence of Homo gigantis, be that separate individuals, groups or one big organisation, and prove beyond doubt the existence of this ancient race to the world.

  ‘All right, but look, Sazza,’ Jason was saying as she refocused to the present, ‘you said it yourself – the area will be stripped if you get back there and we’ll have no kit, not to mention we now have virtually no money to buy any more. If they are still there, what are you going to do if they spot you – and they could well do – overpower them? I don’t think so, somehow. Look what happened to me. These guys are military and top of the pile, by the look of their kit.’