Arkadium Rising

by Glen Krisch

  "Did you feel that earthquake?" RJ said.

  "Is that what it was?"

  "Yeah, I looked it up on a website that tracks seismic activity. That was a 3.2 on the Richter scale."

  "Really? That's crazy. I thought that only happened in California." RJ glanced up from his tablet, raising one questioning eyebrow. She normally didn't feel dumb, but it was hard not to around RJ.

  "Earthquakes happen around here. It's just not common they're strong enough to feel."

  "Well, you learn something new every day," she said, feeling foolish.

  RJ went back to reading, nodding, swiping pages of backlit pixels.

  "So what are you reading about?"

  "It's a new long-form essay by Dr. Efram Gould. He's a professor in Nanoscale Technology at MIT."

  "Gould, huh?" She didn't have any idea who that was, but she continued. "What's he rambling on about now?"

  "The possible slowing of Moore's Law and its impact on the future of microfabrication." He switched off the tablet and finally looked at her. His sad smile made her realize how closely they sat to one another. He could reach out and wrap his arm around her with no effort.

  "Micro… what?"

  "Microfabrication." He kicked the water.

  "What's that?"

  "It's like nanotech. You know, building things on a super-small scale. Like on the molecular level."

  "And why are you spending your summer reading about that?"

  "I just got off the phone with my dad. He asked me if I'd done any extra work in the batting cage."

  Reggie Thompson had converted part of their basement into a workout facility complete with batting cages, a video room, a hot tub and sauna, as well as weight lifting equipment and cardio machines. When Reggie wasn't on the road, he spent a good amount of time in his basement, doing whatever it took to prolong his career.

  "When are you going to tell him?" Kylie asked.

  "What, that I'm quitting ball?" RJ looked down at his hands. "I'm hoping I can put it off until after the season. It might be easier when he's home for the winter."

  At sixteen, RJ was already an inch taller than his dad and broader through the shoulders. He had an easy, natural swing—Kylie had watched a number of his games over the years—and the ball exploded off his bat. Professional scouts had taken notice of his talent for the last year or so. While RJ had a natural talent for baseball, it had never brought him joy. He'd only played this long because of his father.

  "So, until winter you're going to rebel against your dad by reading dense books about micro-building?"

  "Yeah." He chuckled. "Pretty much."

  "That's very passive aggressive of you." Kylie nudged his arm with her elbow. He chuckled and they shared an easy silence, letting their feet cast small waves across the warm pool.

  She glanced over her shoulder at the small pool house. After yet another argument with his dad the previous spring, RJ had moved out of the mansion and into the pool house. The squat building had a single bedroom and a kitchen even smaller than the one in Kylie's doublewide. RJ had complete autonomy at the pool house. He could escape Dawn and her snobby clique whenever they took over the house. And Monique, their stepmom, was happy to have him out of her hair. Most teenagers would have taken advantage of such early freedom. But RJ wasn't like most teenagers. The walls of his bedroom weren't covered in posters of bikini babes or sports figures. He chose instead to hang posters of his heroes: Neil deGrasse Tyson, Buckminster Fuller, Alan Turing.

  "He said…" RJ hesitated. "He said he's talked to the Cardinal's front office about drafting me after I graduate. It's his dream that we can take the field together before he retires, even if it's just during Spring Training."

  "Sounds nice, but is that your dream?" she said, already knowing his answer.

  "No. I want to go to Berkeley or MIT or Harvard. I want to perfect translucent solar panels, and discover habitable extrasolar planets—"

  "So," Kylie cut in, "what you're saying is, you have your own dreams?"

  "Yes." When RJ turned to face her he seemed startled to find her sitting so close. "But it doesn't matter to him. He thinks that since I'm his only son I should follow his path."

  Without thinking Kylie did something she couldn't remember ever doing intentionally, besides their playfully exchanged elbows; she touched him, placing her hand over his. She squeezed and looked into his eyes, really looked into his eyes as if for the first time.

  RJ could read plainly her thoughts, could see how her feelings for him had changed, with him unaware. He jumped up from his seated position, every bit the athlete. "I better… you know…" He looked around for a distraction, a change of subject.

  Kylie's face flushed with embarrassment. "What I'm trying to say is… you should really follow your dreams… whatever they are… wherever they may lead you," she stammered, and immediately lost her train of thought, as if she now possessed the world's shortest memory.

  A sliding door off the kitchen of the main house eased open. "Kylie Ann, what's going on?" Her mother hurried out, wearing yellow rubber gloves and a plain brown apron splotched with dampness.

  "Nothing, Mother. I just came over to hang out with RJ."

  "I see that, but why are you here, Kylie?"

  "Because, like I said, we are hanging out."

  "Hanging out?" Her mom looked like she'd never heard of the concept.

  Kylie saw the confused look on RJ's face. They had been hanging out together for years, and no one had ever given them the third degree about it. A variable in the equation had changed, and RJ didn't know what it could be. Or at least that's what his expression reflected. "Yeah, Mom. RJ was just telling me about the potential slowing of Moore's Law."

  Linda Dwyer looked from Kylie, to RJ, and back again.

  Still sporting that same confused expression, RJ retreated to a lawn chair and the comfort of his tablet. Kylie left his side, the hot concrete baking the soles of her bare feet as she made her way over to her mom.

  "Moore's Law, really?" Her mom scoffed.

  "Yes, Mother," Kylie said. "It could have a profound impact on the advancement of micro… microfabrication."

  "You better run on home, little girl," her mother whispered. They could be at home, trying not to wake Kylie's dad. "You don't belong here, you and your slutty mind."

  "Why don't you run back inside and finish cleaning the toilets. That's all you're good for," Kylie replied and immediately regretted it.

  Her mom gasped and raised an open palm as if to slap Kylie. She'd never struck her daughter, and somehow she managed to hold back now.

  "Mom…" Kylie inched closer to her mom, reaching for her. "I didn't mean that."

  Her mom looked at her raised palm and lowered it to her side. She sighed heavily. "I don't know what to do about you anymore, Kylie Ann. You're lost to me. You know what? Do whatever you want. I'll save my breath. Just know—I'm not raising your kids. I'm done."

  "I never asked you to. And it doesn't matter, anyway, because I'm never having kids."

  "That doesn't add up when you're going around spreading your legs." Her mom headed back along the patio to the sliding door.

  "Mom?"

  Linda Dwyer hesitated. After shaking her head in frustration, she opened the door and went inside without another word.

  Kylie walked over to where RJ was sitting on a poolside lounge chair.

  "What was that all about?" He set the tablet aside.

  "My mom found out…" She hesitated.

  "Found out what?"

  Kylie sat on the chair next to him. She swallowed the lump in her throat. "That I like you…"

  "Wow… Kylie, that's… sweet of you…" RJ's tone said it all. The feeling wasn't mutual.

  "I'm sorry I ever mentioned it." Kylie stood, her cheeks burning, and felt like sprinting until she reached the woods, until she lost herself among the shadows and shade.

  The ground beneath her began to shake, and it crossed her mind that she might be having a se
izure. Or perhaps a heart attack. When RJ sprang to his feet Kylie was somewhat relieved that he'd obviously felt it too. Perhaps she wasn't dying of embarrassment after all.

  "Another quake?" she asked.

  "Must be."

  As the ground continued to shake, Kylie let instinct take over and she wrapped her arms around his waist, her ear pressed against his sternum. He patted her back a couple of times, and then hugged her closer to him. They stood in a panicked silence.

  When his body shifted in her arms, she followed his gaze to the sky. The bright blue canvas exploded in waves of rumpled gold and gray, the colors colliding and coalescing, before shattering into a million shards of lightning that discharged across the horizon.

  It was beautiful, yet horrifying. She couldn't look away, and only reluctantly let RJ pull her to the ground as a concussive wave of thunder pummeled against them. She cried out in pain, but she couldn't hear herself over the blast. RJ wrapped her in a protective embrace, shielding her body with his even though she could feel the fear quake through his limbs. Kylie closed her eyes, breathing in RJ's closeness, as one wave of ear-splitting thunder after another bashed into them.

  Within seconds the earth quieted and RJ's voice overtook the retreating thunder splitting the sky. "Shh… shh… it's okay. It's okay…"

  Kylie opened her eyes and saw RJ staring back at her. For a moment, a fraction of a second at most, she saw his unguarded feelings on full display. More than platonic feelings were in that stare. More than innocent childhood flirtations. "What was that?"

  "It couldn't have been another earthquake."

  "So, what… terrorism?"

  "Don't say that. There has to be a logical explanation." He furrowed his brow as if he were working the problem out in his head.

  "Are we under attack?" She couldn't help herself. She felt jittery and scared, and all she wanted to do was chatter away.

  "I don't know, Kylie," he snapped. "I know as much as you." He got to his feet and brushed grass clippings from his shorts. He extended a hand to Kylie and he helped her up. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that."

  "Don't worry about it," Kylie said, somewhat breathless. She looked to the sky and saw tracers of gold descending to the tree line, diminishing to ghostly afterimages. After blinking a few times, the color was gone altogether.

  Chapter 9

  Kylie's ears still rang from the explosion, but she heard RJ's voice loud and clear. "C'mon. Let's find out what's going on." He went over to a lawn chair and picked up his tablet.

  "Kylie Ann! Are you all right? Are you hurt?"

  Her attention shifted from the sky to her mother rushing out across the patio. Kylie rolled her eyes and glanced at RJ.

  "That's weird." RJ looked sidelong at his tablet, searching for damage. "No power." He pressed the button a couple of times and then flipped the tablet over and removed the battery. When he replaced it, he gave off a defeated grunt.

  Linda Dwyer pulled her daughter into a tight embrace. "Lord and Jesus, so sorry my girl," she muttered into her ear. "My girl, my fault… always… never could figure it out, but Jesus… his punishment. Dear Lord, Hail Mary… Hail Mary! Keep us safe, my Lord…"

  "Mom, I'm okay," Kylie said, trying to pull free.

  "I should've never let you out of my sight. None of this would've happened, none of it, if I kept a better eye on you. My Lord, my Lord, please forgive—"

  "Mother!" Kylie shouted, breaking the spell holding her mom. "I'm fine. Nothing happened. God isn't punishing you, okay? And you know why? 'Cause that's just a bunch of superstition."

  "Kylie—" RJ tried to step between the two Dwyer women, but Linda's rubber-gloved slap across her daughter's cheek froze him in his tracks.

  Kylie touched her stinging cheek, shocked more at the unhinged change in her mother's personality than the pain.

  "Don't you ever say that about your savior! Don't you dare…" Her mom trailed off as the trembling in her voice choked off her words.

  "Mom…"

  Linda Dwyer blinked a few times and then looked at her as she would a stranger. Once again Kylie regretted speaking up about her true feelings. All it ever seemed to accomplish—either with her mom, RJ, or anyone else close to her—was to cause discomfort and pain.

  "Kylie… Mrs. Dwyer, look!" RJ cut in. "It's falling. There's… there's no contrail. Nothing…"

  They both looked to where he was pointing—just shy of the tree line at the horizon. A passenger jet, pointed nose-down, fell soundlessly out of sight. A few heart-rending seconds later a rumble shifted under their feet.

  "Oh my Lord! It… it crashed. This is it. The reaping," Linda said, then sucked in a breath. "No, it's… it's you. You have the devil in you, girl. You and your slut mind and swaying slut hips. You… you are bringing hell home to roost."

  "Mom, Jesus. Listen to what you're saying!"

  "We should get inside," RJ tried to interrupt, placing a steadying hand on Kylie's shoulder. "All of us."

  "No. Not me. All my efforts to steer you on a righteous path have failed." Linda Dwyer pursed her lips and expertly slipped off her rubber gloves, tucking them under her arm while she removed her apron. She folded it neatly before placing it gently, almost reverently, on the patio at her feet. She topped off the pile with the gloves and said to RJ, "Tell your father that in lieu of notice, I'd like my vacation time paid out." Without giving her daughter another glance, she headed off in the direction of their trailer.

  Her mother had always couched her everyday language in a thin sheen of religiosity, but this was something else entirely. Her typical "cleanliness is next to godliness" act was on a completely different plain than invoking damnation and devils. And the unsettled look in her eyes… Something had snapped inside her, something Kylie wasn't sure was reparable.

  "Kylie…" RJ said.

  She couldn't look away from her mother's mousy, nervous strides as she headed for the path that Kylie had taken just minutes earlier. It was almost reassuring to see her pull a crumpled pack of cigarettes from her blouse pocket, set a butt on her lip, and then light it with a match. Kylie saw this as normal Linda Dwyer behavior; perhaps she wasn't completely off her rocker.

  Kylie finally looked away when her mother disappeared down the path into the woods. RJ placed his arm over her shoulders. She felt the pressure of his cheek against the top of her head as he leaned into her. It felt good, no matter the hurt she just experienced.

  "Sorry about that," she said in a small voice. "I don't know what's gotten into her."

  "That's easy. We don't know what's going on. There's been explosions… an earthquake, and a plane crash—all within a matter of minutes. I don't blame her for freaking out. Tell you the truth I'm kind of freaking out myself."

  "She's always seen me as a way to fix her past mistakes."

  "That sounds familiar," RJ said with a knowing chuckle.

  "I guess I'm not turning out how she planned. It's been building for a while."

  "That doesn't mean I have to like it." He lifted his head and smiled. The unguarded look he'd revealed when the explosions rattled the sky was largely gone but a hint of it remained. As long as she saw a glimmer of the truth she thought she could carry on without fear of dying of embarrassment. "Let's go inside and figure out what's going on. My computer's busted so I'll need to use my sister's."

  "Lead the way." She mustered up as close to a smile as she could manage.

  RJ didn't lower his arm from her shoulders as they walked toward the main house. He no longer trembled in fear, and in his strength, Kylie realized she was no longer scared, either. She knew it was foolish, but she felt that as long as she could be with RJ, she could face anything.

  The cool inside air dried the sweat from Kylie's skin as they entered the kitchen. She sat on a high stool and rested her elbows on the vast granite island as RJ grabbed a couple of glasses from the cabinet. Sunlight gleamed on nearly every surface—from the glossy countertops, to the high-end appliances, to the glass-fronted kitchen c
abinets. She smelled the lavender and lemon oil from her mother's cleaning supplies, but besides a sponge resting on the counter near the sliding door, there was no evidence that her mother had ever been here. Her presence in the Thompsons' house was marked by absence; in her wake she left a lavish landscape unblemished by a speck of dust or single water spot on the edge of the kitchen sink.

  Kylie's heart felt heavy. And empty. She knew those feelings conflicted, but it was true.

  "I was afraid of that." RJ peered inside the open refrigerator.

  "What now?"

  "The power's out."

  "I was thinking. What if it was an accident at Kennelly Chemical? That's a fertilizer plant, right? Can't that stuff explode?" She waited for that familiar disappointed look from RJ when she said something stupid, but when he brought a pitcher of lemonade over to the island, he only looked concerned.

  "I don't think so. It could, in theory, I suppose, but I think it's something else. Something bigger." He paused long enough to drink down most of his lemonade and then refill it. "Ever hear of an EMP?"

  "No… what's that?"

  "It means electromagnetic pulse. EMP for short. It's theorized that if there's a massive enough explosion high enough in the atmosphere, it would damage electronic circuitry."

  "Like a nuke?"

  RJ nodded.

  "So, what, you mean no electricity across the entire planet?"

  "I don't know. It's just a theory. And chances are I'm way off base."

  "If there's no power, then it'll be like living in cavemen times," Kylie said with a little laugh. RJ's grave expression drained her of any humor. "Seriously?"

  RJ went over to the bank of light switches at the entrance to the kitchen and flipped every switch. Nothing happened, not even a momentary flicker of a single light bulb.

  She gasped and grabbed her cell phone from her pocket. She pressed the power button, but again, nothing responded to her efforts.

  "It's war, isn't it?"

  RJ shrugged, distracted. He looked lost. Kylie had never seen RJ without an answer at the ready.