Meteor (17 page)

When he was able to move once again, Troy sunk to his knees and risked crawling over to the edge of the abyss created by the earthquake. There had been no aftershocks so he moved cautiously, expecting the earth to start trembling again.

Mary and Cordelia followed close behind him, tears streaking their dusty faces. They too fell to their knees at the lip of the artificial canyon as grief creased their faces.

Remnants of their former life, which now felt like a dream within a dream, were visible amongst the shards of glass and splinters of wood. Despair like he had not experienced yet washed over Troy as he mourned the loss.

Tearing his teary gaze from the pile of rubble, he allowed himself another glance toward the street and saw a neighbor. Troy had the idea that his name was Randall. He was striding towards him with quick, jerky steps. The man’s speed startled Troy and he rose to his feet so quickly he had to windmill his arms to keep his feet. It would have been comical under different circumstances.

“Hello, Troy,” the man said. Troy’s heart slowed its wild beating at this cordial greeting. The quickness with which the man strode across the yard had initially caused Troy to think he meant trouble.

“Hi, Randall,” Troy replied. When the man did not correct him, he knew he had correctly remembered the name. The man lived four doors down from them on the opposite side of the street.

“I, um, don’t know what to say really, I just wanted to check on you guys. Why you out here? Not in your bunker, I mean?”

“It burned.”

“Huh, wouldn’t a thought that was possible.”

“Yea, well, you can see for yourself,” Troy said as he gestured toward the hill at the rear of their property. No longer obscured by their large home, the burnt out bunker door was visible from the street. It still looked like failure to Troy.

Randall blew a long low whistle through his teeth by way of response. “I was gonna take a walk and see what’s left on the other roads in here if you wanna come. Nuthin’ much left on our street. Jack Lindsey’s house is gone like yours, mine mostly too.”

“I think I’ll pass, Randall. I can see what I need to see from here.”

Mary spoke up at that moment. “Come on Troy, we’ll all go. We cannot make this on our own anymore. It’s time to admit that. The bunker’s gone, the house is gone. What the hell do you expect we are going to do without help from people?”

Biting his tongue to keep from yelling back at her, Troy made a grand gesture, flourishing his flat hand to indicate she should follow Randall with his blessing. She only hesitated a second before giving Randall an uncertain smile and taking a few steps in his directions. The girls followed suit, then Brandon and Caleb, and finally Troy bringing up the rear of their impromptu earthquake scouting party.

“What’s the point of this?” Troy asked. To his credit, he continued to follow Randall down the broken road though his steps were much slower than the older man’s. He was hesitant to leave, though he could not figure out why. It wasn’t like the house would miraculously rise from the crater, whole and inhabitable as badly as Troy wished this to be the case. He cast one glance back over his shoulder as Randall answered his question. “Well, from here, it looks like some of the houses over on Corcoran Street were untouched. See that green roof? My friend, Alan lives there. I’m going to go see if he’s okay.”

Troy and his family did not know Alan, but tagging along still seemed like the best idea they were likely to have, so onward they went. There were many patches in the road where the cracks were several feet deep. He cautioned everyone to watch their step as they walked.

The jagged edges of asphalt and concrete rose up like broken spines, pieces crumbling as they stepped gingerly across them. The emptiness of the formerly bustling street filled Troy with more melancholy than he had yet experienced. He cursed himself for moving out of the bunker so quickly.

The bunker.

He turned on his heels and without a word of warning took off at a sprint back in the direction of the house.

“Troy! What on earth are you doing?” Mary yelled at his disappearing back.

Caleb and Brandon looked at each other with twin expressions of confusion and dismay. Randall stopped just long enough to register that they had lost one of their party then turned and continued his trudge toward his friend’s house. No one else knew exactly what to do.

Mary was torn between loyalty to her husband and the deep desire to find shelter before the next nightfall. Surely Troy can’t be considering moving back into the bunker, she thought to herself. She nibbled on a ragged cuticle and muttered, “Shit” under her breath before turning to follow Troy.

When they caught up with him he was simply standing guard at the open hole of the front door of the bunker. Mary quirked an eyebrow at him and waited for an explanation.

“This building, useless though it may be, contains all of our earthly belongings. I don’t plan to lose those too. You guys go ahead and go with Randall while I load all this up somehow.”

“Load it up for what? To take it where, Troy? We may have to move back into this burnt out hole of yours.” Tears overtook Mary then and her words faltered. She put her hands over her face to wipe her tears away before looking up at the unforgiving grey sky and letting out a shriek of frustration so piercing that Troy and the others had to look away. Troy just barely resisted the urge to plug his ears with his fingers.

“Well, maybe we will. Do you have a better plan? I did at one point, and that plan was move back into our house, you know the one that’s now in fourteen thousand pieces in that damn deep hole over there? So, now what? Anybody?” Troy shouted over his wife’s sobs. His face was turning red, a combination of the cold air blowing by and his rising blood pressure.

“Fine, stay here, you idiot. We’re going to see who is still alive and okay. Stay here all by your miserable self.” Mary turned back toward the street and with a hand to the small of their backs ushered her children along with her. Brandon went willingly enough but Cordelia stopped and pulled away.

“I’ll stay too. I’ll help, Dad,” she said and put both arms around Troy’s midsection, ducking under his arm to look at her mother. A small portion of Mary’s anger seemed to dissipate then and she sighed. “Fine, Cordelia. We’ll be back in a few minutes.” With that they took off in the direction of Corcoran Street.

Randall had already arrived once they caught up with him. He stood talking with another man who looked to be in his early sixties on the front lawn of a huge house. No damage was visible from the outside though, and as they approached Mary caught the tail end of his description of the interior.

“…most of the dishes are broken, a few light fixtures crashed down, and of course all the furniture is upside down all over the place but we got lucky, looks like.” The man’s cool blue eyes traveled over the group as they approached the yard uncertainly.

“Hi, Mary,” Randall said. “Troy decided not to join us?”

Mary shook her head and tried a small smile. “He’s lording over the bunker. We have nothing left, Randall, but he seems to think we do so he’s guarding it with Cordelia.”

“Alan, this is Mary and…” he of course didn’t recognize Caleb and would have no reason to know Brandon’s name. They weren’t close friends with Randall, simply people who lived on the same street and passed each other on the way to work some mornings.

“This is Brandon, my son, and Hannah and Caleb. They came to stay with us when things got bad.” She didn’t offer more explanation than this as she couldn’t find the words to sum up what all they had been through. None was needed; Alan and Randall both nodded and gave them kind smiles.

“So you’ve just been in your house this whole time?” Mary asked.

A flicker of some emotion Mary could only identify as regret crossed Alan’s face as he answered, “Yes.”

“Is it just you?” Mary asked.

“Um, yea. It’s just me nowadays. My son is in Michigan at college. A least I have to assume he’s still… there.” Randall approached the man and put a hand on his shoulder. Alan cleared his throat and continued. “My wife and I divorced a few years back, so um, yea, it’s just me now. I haven’t heard from anyone since this thing started. I just have to keep hoping that my child and wife still exist out there somewhere.”

Mary shuffled her feet and looked away. Such naked grief made her uncomfortable when it came from strangers. More neighbors had spilled onto the street from their intact homes. Though they were dressed in decent clothes recently pulled from walk-in closets that they owned, they resembled nothing so much as refugees with nowhere to be. It was in their eyes and the slow pace of their walking. Shocked and aimless, they reached out to the friends that remained to them.

Mary watched as their mouths move silently from across the street. She was stunned again at their bad luck. The houses here were still standing. Some were missing roof tiles and a couple did show cracks in the foundations which did not bode well for the future, but overall ten or twelve homes were still inhabitable on this side of the neighborhood.

“Y’all want to come inside? I guess we’re safe for the moment. I can turn on the weather radio and see what they’re saying.”

They followed Alan up the side front steps onto the porch. The remains of three potted ferns were strewn about the brick floor, their brown leaves withered and spotted. Clumps of dirt that had withstood both wind and quake littered their way as they entered the front door, Mary casting one look over her shoulder in the direction of the bunker. She would listen to the radio then go check on Troy.

Alan’s home was immaculate. Given the circumstances this was even more impressive than it would have been if one were only considering that a male divorcee kept his home spotless. The hardwood floors gleamed even through the gloom of the dark day as though they had just been waxed. Not a speck of dust could be found on any surface save where plaster chunks had been loosened by the earthquake and fallen onto the granite countertop in the kitchen.

Alan motioned for them to sit down at the kitchen table or at one of the four bar stools nearby. A small silver radio sat on the end of the counter and Alan clicked it on. The orchestral music common to the opening of a news segment was playing, and then a strong male voice intoned, “More reports are coming in of worldwide disaster. Scientists predicted this and it has come to pass. Massive earthquakes have ripped through many countries and wrecked the infrastructure as well as causing as yet uncountable deaths. China, Japan, Australia, and many African countries seem to have been most affected though serious damage has occurred in the United States as well. Scientists are now telling us that the worst is over, that the largest part of the melting has taken place and hopefully the earth’s plates have settled into their new locations.”

“I have a feeling he’s right, somehow,” Mary said. “I just think the worst possible thing has happened and things have to get better now.”

“Might just be wishful thinking, Mom,” Brandon said in a glum voice. He had been fidgeting since they walked in the door and now he hopped up from his seat to pace the kitchen. He was so much like his father, it made Mary laugh to look at him sometimes. She leaned forward in her chair and rounded her back in a long stretch.

“Stay positive, Brandon. The only thing that can happen now is one of us is swallowed up in the ground.” Mary didn’t like the sarcastic tone in her voice but her stress level was astronomical and she found herself unable to speak normally in response to her son’s negativity. Everyone in the kitchen looked at her except Randall; he was still transfixed by the news report. She sighed.

“I’m sorry, son. I just don’t know what else to say.” Brandon stopped pacing and looked at her. “Just be realistic, Mom. We’re probably all going to die. I’m surprised we haven’t already.” He stalked out of the room and back toward the front door. She heard the door slam and watched him walk away down the street. Hannah stood up at once and followed him.

“I bet he’s going back to the bunker. I’ll just go with him.” She looked in Mary’s direction but never quite met her eyes. “What will we do tonight? Sleep in the shelter?” Mary could only shrug.

“I don’t know, Hannah.”

Alan rose from his bar stool then and made the offer Mary had been hoping for since they followed him into the house. “Your family is welcome to stay here. I have four bedrooms and two couches. I don’t have much food and of course, the water isn’t working anywhere but… we can figure that out later I guess. I just… I know I don’t know you, well anyone except you, Randall, but my Christian beliefs tell me I must share what I have. I would love to have someone here to talk to other than my boring old self.”

Alan struck Mary as one who was so unaccustomed to the daily interaction of other adults that his emotions poured forth quite without him meaning them to. She took some pity on him in that moment. More pity than she had even taken for her own situation and that of her family. She decided on the spot to take Alan up on his generous offer.

“Thank you. You are too kind. We would be so grateful if you let us stay here tonight.”

“You can stay longer than that.”

Mary smiled at him as shining tears filled her eyes. “I have to go get Troy. I think he’s having a slight mental breakdown. We’ll be back.”

Caleb, who had been quiet and lost in thought throughout this encounter, stood and shook Alan and Randall’s hands. He then took Mary gently by the elbow and together they headed toward the bunker.