Genetic Drift (7 page)

Maddie pulled his shirt, “Did you see?  Did you see?  It’s normal and real.”

Mac stopped and looked at her eye again. “That’s right,” now his attention was fully focused on her eye.  Maddie smiled from getting Mac’s attention but he quickly reset his priorities. 

“Maddie, we can talk about this later,” he said with a hastened voice. 

Maddie didn’t want to wait and shouted, “I don’t want to wait until tomorrow.  I think that my eye is normal.”  Mac turned around, heading for the door.  Barron was waiting there wearing a red hat and had two duffel bags over his shoulder. 

Mac spoke over his shoulder, “Child,” he said in his cajoling voice, “if we don’t leave now, there won’t be a tomorrow.”  

DAY 33

BRENDEN HAWKINS

INTERSTATE 81

It had been seven years since Ben, or Brenden Hawkins as his father called him at birth, had been released from active duty.  He tried to follow in his father’s footsteps but felt his calling was in the world of finance.  Ben had decided to settle in Charlotte, North Carolina, and work at an investment firm.  His father, General Hawkins, continued his military service while Ben went on to live a separate path. They had stayed in contact since Ben left the service but their communication had become more frequent upon the aliens’ arrival.

Ben had become worried that his father’s health was taking a turn for the worst.  He felt the only way to reason with his dad was to visit him and force him away from his desk.  His father wouldn’t budge and Ben wouldn’t let it rest.  Their reactions were the same as they were cut from the same cloth.  Ben was stubborn, but hadn’t perfected stubbornness as his father had. 

Since Ben was halfway through his travels, he decided it was a good time to get on the phone and let his father know what he was doing.  He picked up his cell phone and called, “Dad, I decided that I’m coming up whether you like it or not.”  He was rebuffed by his father. 

“Son, I told you that I’m not leaving this place,” his father replied.  This was his father’s usual reply.  Ben promised he was still coming and his father told him that he would make time, if he could.

After Ben hung up, he threw the phone into the passenger seat.  A well of frustration came over him.  He drove, eyes on the road, biting his lower lip, silent.  He wanted to know why his father was so resistant to a simple request.  Eventually, the urge to take a break overcame him.  He pulled into the next exit, parked, and got out of his car.  The door locked with a chirp as he pressed his key fob and he walked into the gas station.

              After stretching at the coffee counter, he poured himself a cup of joe and grabbed some chips.  He carried the goods to the counter and approached the disengaged cashier.  He didn’t mind as a radio had its volume turned up behind the counter.  A radio address from the president was being announced and then:

The President is about to address the current situation.  We are waiting with great anticipation to find out what has happened with the alien spacecraft.

The cashier was staring at the radio.  Ben realized that something had happened while his radio was off in his car.  His father had made him so upset that he stewed in his thoughts as he drove.  But now, the radio was on and his mind was solely focused on the transmission.

There is definitely something going on up there.  I see the Moon with a bunch of blue streams coming out.  It is a beautiful sight.  Oh, he’s coming out.  Excuse me.

“Ladies and Gentlemen.”

There were voices chattering in the background of the transmission.

“The President of the United States of America.”

Ben and the cashier listened to every word from the President.  The President’s last lines, combined with the screams on the transmission, made Ben turn white.  He patted his pocket for his phone.  It wasn’t there.  He spun around and looked on the floor, it wasn’t there.  He ran to the coffee counter and it wasn’t there either.  Then he remembered that he had left it in the car.  The cashier was staring at the static sound coming out of the radio.  The cup of coffee fell to the floor as Ben whisked to the door.  The door slammed open and stuck as Ben sprinted out to his car.  He lifted the door handle but it wouldn’t open.  He reached into his pocket and the car chirped as the doors unlocked.  The phone was sitting on the seat facedown and he grabbed it.  The screen illuminated and
One Missed Call
was displayed. 

Message Received
came after the missed call alert.

Ben could only hope his Dad was okay.  He entered in his passcode and listened to the message.

Ben, my son, I hope this reaches you well.  I am sorry and you were right.  They have attacked and there is nothing I can do and this will be the last time I will speak to you.  I only pray that you are nowhere near a city being attacked.  If you do survive this attack, please go to the nearest town and find a militia.  You will be a great asset to them.  And son, the only way that I will be able to defeat these aliens is through the best part of me, you.  God bless you and I know you will do what needs to be done. Love you, son.

Ben called his father back with the hope of an answer but the only answer was a recording saying that the number was not available.  He closed his eyes and hung his head.  He choked and did his best to hold in his tears.  “Don’t cry, it’ll let your enemy know that you’re weak,” he remembered his father saying as he indulged in his memories of the past. The memories with his father.  Chuckles and deep exhales would occasionally come out of his mouth.  He opened his eyes and came back to reality.  He walked back into the gas station.  He didn’t even wait to get to the counter.

“Where is the closest militia based?” he demanded from the cashier.  The cashier was still in shock from the radio announcement and turned around. 

“Um, why it’s, um, Charlottesville,” he informed Ben. 

“Thanks,” Ben said, and he turned around to get in his car.

He knew where to go and what he needed to do. He would honor his father’s last request and kill every last one of the damn aliens so his father didn’t die in vain.

DAY 276

HOSPITAL TRIAGE

CHARLOTTESVILLE, VIRGINIA

His heart was racing as he opened his eyes.  In front of him, Marcus Smith saw a cinder block wall painted off-white.  The beeping from the heart monitor pounded from behind him.  His breath became more rapid.  The urge to move overcame him and he pushed away from the bed into a sitting position.  

He looked at the wires that were hanging from his arms and chest and started to remove them.  The heart monitor flat-lined as he ripped off the last of the wires.  Pushing himself off the bed, Marcus awkwardly stepped onto the floor.  His knees began to buckle as he reached back to the bed and used it as support.  The last thing he remembered was carrying that woman he found out of the bunker. 

One of the nurses charged into the room and wrapped her arms around him.  Her attempted lift was met by his weight.  She conceded that he wasn’t budging, “Sir, please get back on the bed,” she asked, still struggling to hold him up.  Marcus propped his arms on the bed and lifted himself to a sitting position.  When he released the tension from his muscles, a burning sensation started to emanate from his back spreading to the entirety of his torso.  He reached backwards and felt his back covered with a pad.  

“You had a lot of shrapnel in your back.  You were very lucky for two reasons: nothing major was damaged and you survived.”  She started to clean the blood running down his arm from the removal of the IV.  

“So, none of the others made it,” Marcus said as if death was a daily occurrence in his life.  

“You were the only one, I’m sorry to tell you,” she threw away the bloody gauze.  “You have been down for a couple of days and you’re still feeling the effects of the sedation.  I know you have a lot going on in your head.”

Marcus stretched his arms to the ceiling, trying not to pay attention to his back that was gaining the intensity of a blazing inferno.   “How long will I have to be in this hospital?” Marcus wanted to be out of the bed and out of the hospital.  

“The doctor says that you’ll be able to leave after you are able to walk down the hallway,” the nurse pointed out of the curtains, “but you need to come in daily to change the pad on your back and the doctor wants to check on you in a week.”  

Thanks to the painkillers the nurse supplied, the fire pit that formed on his back had once again shifted to a small irritation.  Marcus had to wait a couple more hours until he could prove to the nurse that he could walk.  Once the nurse was satisfied with his physical well-being, she handed him some medicine which was in short supply.  

Provided with clothing left by the militia members who dropped him off at the hospital, Marcus got dressed and left.  When he walked out of the door, Marcus felt the warmth of the sun on his face and it brought him a sense of calm.  He saw a bench in front of him.  He walked over to it and kicked one of its legs to make sure it wouldn’t fall down.  Unlike the other benches around it, this one seemed solid.  

He sat down on the bench and draped his arms over the entire back.  His head fell back as his face went to the sky and visions of his wife and child entered into his head.  He smiled as the image of holding his son and being kissed by his wife filled his daydream.  His son was 4-years-old and a spitting image of his father.  He had known his wife since they were in high school and they were married after he completed his basic military training.  After a while, the images faded and were replaced with thoughts of the Attack.  His head snapped forward, “I guess it’s about that time,” he got up from the bench.  “Time to check into headquarters.”

It was the latter part of the afternoon when Marcus arrived, “Smith… is that you?”  Ben jogged up to him and looked at him from head to toe.  He was relieved to see that Marcus had survived the blast.  

“Yeah, LT, it’s me,” Marcus said warmly despite showing no crack in his exterior facade.  Ben was the one person that Marcus respected, the only one of Alan Pritchard’s militia that he called ‘LT.’  They complemented each other well.  Ben’s strategic mind combined with Marcus’ practical application and vice versa.  Charlottesville was better defended because they knew how to work together.  They knew that the militia would have been overrun if it wasn’t for them both.  Marcus didn’t care that Ben got the credit and asked to be a lieutenant.  Ben was a good man and he was genuine and Marcus would never want to give up being in the field.  Not being in the field was Ben’s calling, definitely not his.

“I am glad to see you back,” Ben told him with a smile on his face.  

Marcus returned the smile and said, “What’s going on here?”  

Ben turned around to see the scavengers returning with metal scraps and glass.  “Oh, this,” he waved his hand as he introduced the area to Marcus, “this is what we can do because of you.”  

Marcus walked with Ben over to the piles, “So this is all you guys could get, a bunch of metal and glass… it looks like a crackhead’s worst nightmare.”  

Ben again looked over at Marcus, just glad that he was alive, “I’m sure we will figure out a use for this stuff, it’s just a matter of time.”  Ben looked at headquarters, “You ever been in there?” He tilted his head in the direction of the building.  

Marcus looked at the building too, “Nope, it’s only for you bigwigs.”  

Ben started walking toward the building, “Come on, today you are.”  Marcus sped up to Ben and walked by his side.

As they walked on the deck and approached the building, the guard stopped Marcus, “You can’t come in,” he moved in between Marcus and the door.  

Ben put his hand on the guard’s upper arm and gently pushed him out of the way, “The hell he can’t, he’s with me.  I’m taking him in.”  The guard looked at Ben’s face and saw how serious he was.  He moved back out of fear of making a militia lieutenant angry.  Marcus walked by the guard, glaring at him, and went through the door.  

They were walking into the main planning area when Alan Pritchard shoved past them, heading out of the door.  “He’s definitely in a rush,” Ben said, “this is why I wanted you here.  I want to show you the map.”  Marcus looked down at the map as Ben pointed out the possible locations for other bunkers.  Ben pointed to an area of the map, “I’m concerned about sending a squad to this area.”  

Marcus reviewed the map and then pointed to the same area, “Yeah, I would be concerned too.  But it would be smarter if you approach from this direction to limit their target angles.”  

They continued to analyze the map until Alan Pritchard yelled, “Ben, come in here.”

Marcus waited for what seemed like an eternity even though it was no more than ten minutes.  He drifted over to the window to see the scavengers starting to load large bulky sacks on the trucks.  His concentration was broken by Ben running out of Alan Pritchard’s office.  “ALL CONVOYS RETURN ASAP!” Ben yelled.  As he was notifying everyone of the situation, he caught his practical counterpart out of the corner of his eye and gestured to Marcus to follow him.  He approached the map table and ripped off the first two sheets and handed them to Marcus, “You’re going to need these.  You’re going with Pritchard.”  He explained that something had changed in Alan and that he did not trust him anymore.  “Make sure that those people and that stuff make it to Kentucky,” Ben told Marcus.