The Trunk

by Linda Mooney

  “Don’t worry, fella. They’re going to hit us back any minute now,” Emlee murmured.

  A swooshing noise, followed by the words NEWS ALERT, came on the screen. A different newsman appeared, looking just as scared as the first guy.

  “This just in! The president has declared martial law for the entire United States! All citizens are advised to return to their homes immediately, and all shops and stores close their doors. No businesses will be allowed to be open after three p.m. eastern time. Martial law will remain in effect until further notice. I repeat, the president has declared martial law—”

  The TV went dark. The central air shut off, and the lights went out. At the same time, Emlee heard the first faint rumbles in the distance. The ones that sounded like thunder, but which she knew had nothing to do with the weather.

  Stuffing the last bite into her mouth, she dropped the empty can and fork into the sink, and ran for the stairs. The first blast came just as she reached the top step. It knocked her against the wall, where she bounced off, lost her footing, and slipped down a couple of steps before she managed to recover.

  Another explosion, this one closer, made the whole house shake. Getting to her feet, she grabbed the door knob and turned it, when a third blast sent shockwaves through her. Stunned, she fell sideways and tumbled to the foot of the stairs.

  Outside, vehicle alarms went off, shrill and penetrating. Emlee tried to get to her feet, but her knee gave her fits. Pain shot up her leg and into her hip, and she cried out as she used the wall to get back up on her feet.

  Something detonated almost directly overhead, above the subdivision. Or maybe it just sounded that way. But it acted like a massive hammer, slamming down on the Earth. Emlee was thrown to the floor as the backlash acted like a vise, squeezing her flat to the point where she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything but gasp for air. A tremendous crash came from above her, and she threw her arms up over her head in case the ceiling gave way. Instead, she was showered with a fine blanket of dust as the pressure suddenly eased.

  Dazed, she gave herself a moment to come to grips with herself. Grabbing the wall again, she was able to stand and slowly limp up the stairs. Twisting the door knob, she tried to open the door, but something was blocking it, preventing it from swinging outward.

  She stared in shock at the doorframe as the truth of her situation became clear. The ceiling and roof of the house had caved in, exactly the way she’d found it six years later. But this time she was trapped inside the basement apartment.

  Leaving her with little or no option of escape.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Shift

  Emlee went downstairs and dropped into the closest chair. She listened closely to what was going on outside. It wasn’t long before she heard the screams of people emerging from what had been their homes, crying for help to come rescue a trapped loved one inside. That was stage one. As soon as everyone realized there would be no help, as soon as they figured out what had caused the destruction, stage two would come into play.

  Panic.

  “I gotta get away from here,” she stated, and thought about her options. Her gaze went to the small horizontal windows along the top of the basement. Getting to her feet, she went over to the only solid chair where it sat against the far wall and took it over to place underneath one of the windows. She’d been able to tape the sheets she’d torn from the magazine over them by standing on tiptoe, but she needed a boost to be able to crawl out of one.

  The windows had a small lever at the bottom of the frame, enabling one to open it up and outward. She managed to release the catch, but the window wouldn’t budge. She tried pushing on it, pounding on it with her hands, but the window remained intact. Undaunted, she moved to the next window, with the same results. She briefly considered getting something heavy and smashing the glass, but she feared attracting attention. Plus, there was the chance she might cut herself while trying to squeeze through it, and she couldn’t risk it.

  She crossed her fingers and tried all five windows. She knew that many people gave up after the first or second try to succeed, but she’d learned that sometimes it could be that last one in the row that produced results.

  That was not going to be the case this time. Every window remained permanently closed.

  “It has to be because of the ceiling cave-in,” she figured. “The house must’ve settled or something.”

  Fear started to worm its way into her lungs, making her breathe more erratically. Emlee closed her eyes to center herself, and when she opened them, she saw people standing outside in their yards and on the streets. Dealing with the loss of electricity was one thing. A lot of people, if not everyone, had experienced an outage at some point in their lives. Same for cell phones not getting any signal. But the inexplicable and widespread destruction of their homes and neighborhood was freaking them out, especially when there had been no major storm to cause such damage.

  A woman screamed and pointed to something in the distance, which Emlee couldn’t see. But she could guess what was causing others to also yell and gesture. In fact, she knew exactly what they were staring at in wide-eyed horror.

  The motherships, for one.

  The multiple plumes of smoke and fires, for another.

  They were witnessing the end of civilization, and they had no idea of what was happening. Worse, they had no clue of what to do next. Nor would they start to think ahead or plan what they needed to do for the hours, the days, and the years to come.

  She got down from the chair and sat. She couldn’t leave via the door with the collapsed roof blocking it. Neither could she exit through the windows.

  “I can’t stay here. There’s no food or water. I’ll die within the week.”

  Unless I transport out.

  And that meant a change of clothes.

  She looked down at herself and her t-shirt and gym shorts. The clean shirt and jeans were in the bathroom where she’d changed out of them. For some inexplicable reason, those clothes had traveled through time with her.

  “No. Wait. I was holding them, wasn’t I?” She patted her thigh, feeling the thumb drive sitting snug in her pocket. Was it possible? “If I’m holding it, or it’s on my person when the shift happens, then it comes with me? If that’s the case, it explains why the toiletries I’d taken out of the medicine cabinet also made the trip with me.”

  She started for the bathroom, when a cold reality hit her, followed by a hard, intense feeling of sorrow and regret. Her only way to survive this a second time was to travel back through time to the future. To her future. To her present time. But that meant leaving Mykail alone and vulnerable. There was no way of knowing if he’d survive the next six years on his own, but she had no other choice. If she didn’t escape from this basement, she would die.

  “What if I put on my future clothes, got out of here, then switched to my past clothes again once I was outside?” She groaned and rolled her eyes. “Geez Louise. Listen to me. I sound like a deranged stripper.”

  But then a second possibility hit her, and the realization almost made her sick to her stomach. What if there were a limited number of “passes” that allowed her to hop back and forth through time? What if she’d used them all? Or what if she had just one trip left? What if she managed to return to the future, but her chances were up, and she was stuck there?

  The thought of leaving him stranded in the past made her press a fist to her chest as she fought the pain. “Oh, God. Mykail. If I can’t go back again, please, please be safe. Please live. I gave you a heads up. Please let that be enough to keep you alive.”

  Tears burned in her eyes. Wiping them away with the back of her hand, she went into the bathroom and changed into the clothes Mykail had washed. Then, taking a deep breath, and holding the clothes that might enable her to return to the past if she needed to, Emlee stepped out of the bathroom.

  The first things she looked at were the windows. Seeing the magazine pages covering them, her knee
s went weak. She also spotted Mykail’s letter to her sitting on the kitchen counter where she’d left it, and snatched it up. Both the letter and her past clothes, as she now thought of them, went into her backpack.

  At the top of the stairs, she paused. The spare key fob to Mykail’s car dangled from its hook by the doorframe. She remembered hanging it back up there when they came home last night. Impulsively, she snatched it up and stuffed it into her pocket, then reached for the doorknob. What if it doesn’t open? She hesitated. “But it should,” she argued with herself, and turned the latch.

  The door opened.

  Caution instantly took control, and she listened for several long seconds for any sound or sign of someone who might be nearby. Not detecting anything, she slowly squeezed her way out the door.

  Once she emerged from underneath the rubble, she donned the backpack and tiptoed into the kitchen, where she discovered the discarded poker underneath the dinette set in the breakfast nook. Hefting it, she felt more confident. With rare exception, no one used guns anymore. Ammunition had run out ages ago, and so few people knew how to make more. Many of those who’d switched to bows and arrows weren’t that skilled, which left the majority of survivors using ready, at-hand weapons like bats, knives, antique swords and spears, and—yes—fireplace pokers and broom handles.

  Emlee ventured outside, testing the air and surroundings for anything that might pose a danger. It was growing dark, and for that she was grateful. It was easier to hide from the scavengers and the killers.

  Running around to the side of the house where she’d be partially shielded by the adjacent home, she quickly dressed in her past clothes and waited. She desperately wanted to close her eyes and let the transformation happen without her being forced to witness it, but this time she had no choice but to watch since she was outside and exposed.

  It wasn’t instantaneous. Neither was it gradual. It was, as she’d off-handedly referred to it a couple of times, more of a shift, followed by a realization that things were different or slightly off-kilter. That reality had been altered.

  In the dark, it was harder to tell immediately, but overhead the stars had disappeared. The sky was cloudy, and she caught the smell of ozone on the rising wind. Usually, she didn’t move about in the rain, but this time was different. She needed to get to the marina. Once she got there, she hoped she’d find Mykail, or some sign of him.

  If he’s still alive.

  Moving to the rear of the house, she checked the area once more for safety’s sake, only to stop dead in her tracks as another detail hit her.

  She had no idea where the marina was located.

  She had no idea in which direction to go.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Stopped

  There was no way of knowing from which direction the wind was blowing. And with the sky blacked out by the dark clouds, she couldn’t get any hint from the moon.

  The first fat droplets of rain struck her on the face and arms, sending a chill through her as she trudged down the sidewalk in what she hoped was the right direction. Cars sped by. People were leaving the city, hoping to escape any further barrage coming from above. Or they were going to be with loved ones, hoping to weather this alien storm no one anticipated. They didn’t know there was no place safe anymore, but it wouldn’t take long before they learned. She watched as one truck ran a red light at an intersection and t-boned a white sub-compact. Apparently the drivers believed it would be better if they took over the wheel rather than let their vehicles do what they were programmed to do, and as a result they were paying the price.

  Another car hit a puddle and skidded across the rain slick pavement. Again, the driver must have killed the autopilot and taken over. The sedan hit a curb and flipped twice before coming to a stop on its roof on the median.

  Emlee kept going with an eye open for any inherent danger. She also needed to find someone she could collar and ask for directions to the marina, if they were willing to stop long enough to give her that information. She had no idea how long she’d been walking. She just hoped it was not all in vain.

  She was soaked to the skin as the rain continued to come down. It hadn’t been raining where she’d been the first time the apocalypse occurred. She was cold, and without socks her feet were sliding around inside her boots.

  She reached a strip mall containing a laundry mart, a gasoline and recharging station for vehicles, and a small convenience store. Like the rest of the world, their power was out, their interiors dark and foreboding. The front doors of the convenience store were shattered, making her suspect there had been some looting. Giving a one shoulder shrug, she ventured over there. With luck she’d find a few canned goods she could scavenge.

  Ducking inside, she gave her eyes a moment to adjust to the gloom. Every so often the headlights on a passing car illuminated the store’s insides. Just as she’d expected, the looters had gone for the alcoholic beverages and the cash register.

  “Idiots. They’ll learn soon enough that food and water’s more valuable than stupid paper.”

  Pulling a glow stick from her backpack’s side pocket, she was able to find a treasure trove of food. She didn’t hesitate to grab some of the fresh fruit on a small end cap. She packed as much packaged and self-heating canned items as she could into her backpack, then grabbed a half gallon of milk from the refrigerated section to take with her.

  As she rounded an aisle, she caught sight of a display with umbrellas and rain ponchos. She dismissed taking an umbrella, since it would require one hand to hold it, and her hands were already full with the poker and milk. Instead, she snatched a rain poncho, shook it out, and slipped it over her head.

  Exiting the store, she stuffed the glow stick into her pocket as she paused to watch the lightning in the distance. Were the aliens accustomed to weather like this, or was it all new to them? Were their ships above the clouds, out of sight, or did they land somewhere to wait it out?

  Seeing a car pull in, she ducked behind an ice machine and squatted down to make herself as invisible as possible. Initially, she thought it was going to stop next to one of the gas pumps, when it rolled to a stop on the other side of the drive-through, not far from the front of the store. Another passing car illuminated the parked vehicle, and she read the word POLICE on the side.

  The officer got out of his car, flashlight in hand, and walked over to examine the busted glass doors. Emlee remained still, knowing that sooner or later he’d sweep the beam over to where she was hiding.

  She didn’t have to wait long.

  The light temporarily blinded her. Instead of trying to block it with her hands, she blinked and turned her head. She’d dealt with cops in the past. Any sudden move could be taken as hostile or threatening. And in this current situation, even more so.

  “Hey. You there. Stand up. Show me your hands.”

  She obeyed, leaving her jug of milk behind her, and held them out. The man spotted the fireplace poker and gestured with the flashlight.

  “Drop it.”

  She let it fall to the cement with a clatter.

  “Who are you? What are you doing here?”

  “My name’s Emlee Dow. I was heading toward the marina, but I think I got turned around. I’d really appreciate it if you’d point me in the right direction.” She kept her voice low and calm.

  He pointed to the broken doors. “Did you do this?”

  “No. I found them that way, but I’ll be honest with you. I did go inside and take a few things.”

  “What sort of things?” The man sounded exhausted, and her heart went out to him. Here he was, trying to do his job, when all he probably wanted to do was see to his own family and make sure they were safe.

  “I took some milk and food items. Someone else made off with the beer and cash register.” She made a slight gesture with her thumb to indicate her backpack. “You’re welcome to check.”

  “Do you have any weapons on you? Any knives or guns?”

  “Nope. Just the poker.�
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  A car flew by, clipped another car’s bumper, but miraculously both vehicles continued on without stopping. She and the cop watched the near accident. “It’s only going to get worse,” Emlee remarked. “Since those aliens attacked us, society will crumble, until there won’t be much of anything left.”

  The officer gave her a strange look. In the flashlight’s glow, she could see he was an older man, maybe a seasoned veteran. A man whose children were probably already grown up and on their own. He moved a little closer and audibly sniffed.

  “No, I haven’t been drinking,” she told him, knowing what he was trying to detect. “I don’t use drugs, either. At least, nothing stronger than over-the-counter stuff.”

  “Just checking, anyway. I mean, after what you’ve just told me.” His tone was light. She could imagine he was also smiling.

  “Believe me when I tell you this,” she continued. “Nothing you will do tonight will matter in forty-eight hours. There’s nothing you can do other than go home and see to your own family. Keep them safe. Gather as much non-perishable food like canned goods as you can and hunker down. It’s going to be a long haul, and not that many of us are going to be alive by the end of the year.”

  The man harrumphed. “What are you? Some kind of fortune teller?”

  “No. I’m just someone who’s seen the writing on the wall. All electrical grids are down, and they won’t be coming back. Eventually we’ll all have to abandon our cars, and learn how to survive the way our ancestors did eons ago.

  “Also, you need to know that people are going to turn on each other. They’re going to rob, and cheat, and kill. They’ll do whatever they feel they need to do in order to put food in their mouths and have a safe place to sleep. What happened earlier, with the booms and all, is only a portent of what’s about to come down.”