by Nancy Lieder
folders here and there. This is a work room, a war room, and it is filled with
men and women in business attire, ties pulled open, shirt collars unbuttoned,
some hair frazzled as hands have gone to heads now and then, the situation,
not appearance, the only concern.
A NASA employee, his hair up in the air on one side, his hair grease holding
it there, stands numbly staring at the screen, saying not a word to anyone as
though frozen in stance and speech. A second employee walks through the room
hurriedly, brushing past others as he passes, intent on talking to another
whom he stops to engage in animated conversation. Others in the room are on
the phone, shuffling papers, talking with each other, or sitting with their
heads in their hands. Yet a third employee has a mobile cell phone in his ear,
is gesturing with strong forward thrusts of his hand, an angry look on his
face. He says,
.. time to go to the bunker!
Leaning over a table and bringing his fist down now on the table, in anger,
easing himself into his chair as he is trembling with rage.
You told me when this started to happen we’d leave.
Now I want to know where the God damn bunker is! Now!
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_______________________________
At the McGregor ranch Martha is normally up before dawn preparing breakfast for her hard working husband. Big Tom wolfs down his breakfast, slurping
coffee and shoveling in eggs and fried potatoes like there is no tomorrow,
talking between swallows about the chores he has lined up for the day.
. . found a broken fence yesterday, better get that
fixed before the cattle discover the break.
Big Tom glances up to gesture in the direction of the broken fence, and stops
mid-sentence as it is stone dark out and the dawn should have painted the
horizon with orange streaks by now. He is silent for a moment, his arm out-
stretched in mid-gesture. Then he falls back to eating, but keeps glancing
out the window, nervously, a puzzled look on his face. He checks his watch,
glances to the clock on the wall, and asks his wife what her stove clock says.
. . Martha, what time do you have?
He holds up his watch and she stares at her clock and then they both stare at
each other. When he discovers they are all in sync, he shakes his head and
goes back to wolfing his breakfast down.
Martha has gone into her garden behind the house, but is too upset to be
tending to the garden. She has her basket with her, to collect the produce,
her hair tied back with a bandana to keep it out of the way as she would
normally be bending over a lot, but is just standing there between the lettuce
and onions and tomato plants, a worried look on her face. Suddenly she jerks
her face up, though not a sound has been made to alert her to the presence of
a Zeta beside her. She comes close to tears seeing a friend, her face showing
relief at being able to seek counsel.
My God, what’s happening!
A tall Zeta comes up to her and puts his right hand on her left shoulder,
lowering his head to touch his forehead to hers. Martha rises her right hand
and puts it on the Zeta’s left shoulder at this, and they stand there briefly
for a moment.
They pull back from each other, now gazing into each other’s faces. Martha’s
face now reflects calm. She is no longer frantic and afraid.
_______________________________
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Danny's eyes pop open in the darkened tent, though no sound or motion has
awakened him. He shines a flashlight on his watch and a puzzled look comes
over his face, as it shows 10:12 in the morning. Yet it is still dark.
Feeling him stirring, Daisy wakens. She says,
Can't you sleep either?
Danny says,
Normally I sleep like a log on camping trips. Odd that
we’re both having trouble sleeping. I know what’ll fix
that.
Danny reaches for Daisy, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close,
nuzzling her neck. The couple assumes they are having insomnia, the watch
broken, and Danny is just settling into snuggling with Daisy when they hear
voices from the New Age couple next door. Danny says,
They’re awake too? Something’s not right here.
Danny pulls on his pants and goes out to investigate.
_______________________________
The campers all meet by the smoldering camp fire, now out, and look around and
at their watches. Daisy says,
Our watches seem to be fast.
A bit stunned and confused, the campers stand around the remnants of their
campfire, looking first at their watches and then at each other. Frank and
Danny compare times, then stare at each other. Danny says,
10:16
And Frank’s concurs.
10:14
Danny goes to check the clock in his car, which also reads 10:16. He says,
Whatever it is, it’s made all the clocks fast. We’ll
probably hear about it later on the news. Weird!
Jane is stirring last night's campfire, adding kindling, and puts some water
on for coffee. Having no explanation for why their clocks are wrong, and not
wanting to admit to themselves how frightened they are, the campers joke
around. Jane says,
Everything looks better after a cup of coffee.
Frank smirks and says,
Yeah, we’re all still just dreaming.
Daisy is sitting on a rock, a slight frown on her face, blinking and saying
nothing, not willing to let go of her anxiety. Gradually the dawn rises, and
the group shows their obvious relief. Daisy brightens like the rising Sun when
the light of dawn shows, her face almost estatic.
Oh, there’s the Sun!
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_______________________________
Back at the Daily News in Newark, New Jersey, Zack Maya, the newspaper editor,
is frantic, red in the face with anger, and standing as he phones a friend
from his office as he is too agitated to sit. He is looking at his watch and
where it appears to be dawn outside, his watch and the clock on the wall say
1:07 pm. He shouts into the phone.
What the hell's going on! You told me there wasn't any
danger, you asshole. I did what you asked me to do,
now what are you going to do about this!
It becomes apparent that the other party hung up on him. The editor is holding
the phone away from his ear, staring at it, then muttering under his breath
and hanging it up, looking decidedly despondent. The sound of beeping traffic
and hysterical shouting can be heard out the window.
_______________________________
The clock at the New York Stock Exchange reads 1:11 pm. Life goes on, even in
the face of the inexplicable. On the trading floor of the Stock Exchange,
there are shouts and traders running to and fro with mobile cell phones to
their ears, but the floor is uncharacteristically empty and quiet. Traders
and dealers are standing around, staring at the big clock which now reads
1:11.
There is some trading going on. Some shouts and people running around with
mobile cell phones, but a lot of traders and dealers are just standing and
staring at the big clock reading 1:11. People talk wi
th each other, gesturing
and pointing excitedly. Small groups watch TV monitors hanging from wires on
the floor. CNN team talks about the daybreak being hours late.
.. scientists have yet to come up with an explanation
for why this day is getting a late start. Most
businesses and schools are operating at their normal
schedule, but the confusion has ..
Out on the busy street outside, in Times Square, a drug dealer who would
normally move through the crowd rapidly, making his contacts and moving to
safer streets, stands with his back against a brick wall, eyes scanning the
sky, cigarette in hand. A bum comes up to bum a smoke.
Got some smokes, man?
He is absentmindedly handed the entire pack by the dealer, complete with
lighter. The dealer pulls out a joint and turns to the bum, asking for a
light, apparently forgetting that he just handed the bum the pack and lighter,
distracted.
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Hey! Gimme a light, would ya?
Cars are stalled and people are looking out their windows at the sky. A group
of farm kids get off a bus and look around in a big huddle.
So this is New York? Boy, they sure do have traffic
jams! Mom was right!
An executive in a dark gray suit steps out of a cab, smooth black briefcase in
hand. He notices a fine red dust powdering the sidewalk, and squats to pick
up a pinch between his fingers, rubbing his fingers together. The fine dust
is everywhere now - blowing off the tops of moving cars, settling into cracks
in the sidewalks, and coming down onto the anxious up-turned faces like a fine
mist.
_______________________________
It’s now 11:30 am in the Rockies. At the campground, the fine red dust is
powdering everything, but this passes notice due to being scattered by the
branches overhead. Danny has come back from picking up groceries at the local
Stop-n-Shop, and goes to open the trunk, finding that his finger leaves a mark
on the trunk lid. He runs a finger through the dust, staring at the tip,
puzzled.
Frank is returning from the stream, fishing pole in hand but otherwise empty
handed.
The stream is turning red, like blood, and the fish
are bobbing up one after another, belly up, dying from
whatever it is.
Daisy puts her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide open, an anxious look in her
eyes. Jane says,
My God, the prophecies are coming true.
Danny is punching the buttons on his mobile cell phone now, listening, then
punching another set and listening again. He's getting static, no ringing.
I'm not getting through, nothing's working.
Danny glances up into the sky.
These things work off the satellites . .
Frank is already bringing their camping supplies to their car, breaking camp.
Jane is taking down their tent, throwing the poles in a pile as though she
were racing against time. Danny is rubbing his forehead, trying to
understand.
The campground store didn't have any news either.
Their newspapers haven't been delivered, nor any of
the regular delivery runs.
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Seeing everyone in the campground starting to break camp, as though what
others are doing is an imperative, Danny also starts to break camp. He walks
to the campfire and starts stacking supplies in a box, silently. Daisy pulls
her makeup case close to her as she sits on a log and begins to do her nails
with great concentration. She begins a monologue about polish types and
broken nails that she or her friends have experienced, though no one is
listening.
I just can't get my nails to grow! . .
30
-The Horror-
Big Tom has his tool box open along the fence he is repairing. His jeep
stands several feet away on solid ground, as cattle tend to walk along fences,
creating deep ruts well hidden by the tall grass. Like many ranchers, Big Tom
tended to take better care of his equipment than himself.
The cattle begin milling about and mooing, groups starting to bolt in this
direction or that, then changing their minds and bolting in the other
direction. Some groups are even running into each other, like a misdirected
stampeded. They are alarmed yet confused, getting some signal that Big Tom
can't sense. The earth emits a low moan, barely perceptible at first. However,
this low moan keeps up, rising and falling, as though the earth were in agony.
Big Tom has turned pale, drops his tools, leaving them where they lay on the
ground, stumbles back toward his jeep and drives off crazily, not even
shutting the door until well on his way up the dirt road. Big Tom careens up
to the ranch house, screeching his brakes and walking quickly to the house. He
barges in the kitchen door and heads for the phone. Martha says,
Won't do no good. I can't get through. Nobody can get
through.
Martha is calm, her daughter Tammy leaning into her where she sits in a
kitchen chair, having a beer. Martha and Big Tom exchange a long look, no
words spoken. Finally, Big Tom breaks the silence, glancing at the beer.
That looks good, think I'll have one.
Red comes into the kitchen and announces he's stocked the storm cellar. He
has Billy in tow, his helper, who goes to wash his hands as he has been
brushing his hands together, but glancing at them sees they are dirty. Billy
casts a glance at his mother Martha and heads toward the sink, not realizing
that something more serious than getting a reminder is pending.
A loud knock on the front door stops Big Tom from easing into a relaxed
posture in the familiar wooden chair he has just dropped into, beer in hand,
and he recoils to go answer it, his curious Billy at his heels. Danny is at
the door, dust streaked in the sweat running off his face, the others in the
foursome (Daisy, Jane, Frank) standing alongside the car in the drive. Danny
says,
Do you have any gas to sell, the stations don't seem
to be open.
Big Tom, surveying the visitors and sensing they pose no threat, allows
himself to be relieved to be getting some news.
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Not surprised . . Jed probably took his hounds into
the hills already, he's been talking about the end of
the world, and probably figures it's come.
Danny doesn't answer for a few minutes, the sounds of insects singing in the
sun loud in the silence between the two men. Then he says,
Well, has it?
Big Tom motions to the foursome now all on the porch.
Might as well come in for a spell, the day's getting
hot already and it doesn't look like its going to end.
At the mention of time, Danny glances at his watch and gasps.
My God, it's almost midnight!
_______________________________
What seems like days have passed, and the long dawn that doesn't end and the
accumulating heat are wearing at the group. Grim and focused on the drama
being played out on the world's stage, which they all sense will end at some
point soon, the adults are being civil, not wanting to add to their problems.
The men are simply quiet, looking out t
he window as though expecting something
to happen.
The women peel potatoes and help Martha with her mending, making small talk to
keep the youngsters from realizing the seriousness of the situation. Jane
says,
Let me see if I can find a matching button. Want to
help me, Tammy? I’m looking for a small brown one like
this.
Everyone is in shorts, a film of sweat evident, but no one complains about the
heat or worry except Daisy who is almost whining, a continuous expression of
exasperation on her face. Daisy is going through the motions of being an
adult, but makes little noises of frustration when drawers don't open smoothly
or something isn't where she expects to find it in the cabinets. Finally she
looks pointedly at Danny but he just looks grim and shakes his head. Danny
says,
Don’t start again! We’re not going to drive off and
escape this. This is everywhere, Daisy, everywhere,
and we’ve just got to wait until this breaks or we get
news. Not going to be better anyplace else.
This has been a long running argument between them, one discussed whenever
they retired to one of the bedrooms for a nap together. Daisy is trying to
initiate the discussion again, publicly, hoping to win support, and Danny has
about had it with her. One of the children in the group is likewise having
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problems understanding the situation. Tammy leans against her mother, Martha,
who is sitting in her place at the kitchen table.
When can my dolls go to the swimming hole for a
picnic?
Tammy is obviously asking when she can go again. Martha wraps her free arm
around her and gives her a little hug, understanding that the child wants to
