Dust to Dust: An Apocalyptic Thriller Page 5

  “You’re asking the wrong person.”

  “They have to keep her in there. She’ll show up at my house with that same nonsense. I need to get back home.” Goodie goes on and on. I tune him out the best I can.

  We get to another shopping center. There are no spaceships. At least, from what I can see from where we are.

  “We need to get supplies,” Michael says. “Possibly find some bicycles.”

  “Hey,” Goodie replies happily, “that is a great idea.”

  They cross the grass patch to the parking lot before realizing I haven’t moved.

  “Kris, what’s up?” Michael asks.

  “There could be more of those spaceships.”

  “The sky is clear, except for down the road,” Goodie says. “We got nothing to worry about for a while.”

  “Why were they at the other shopping center?” I ask, trying to gauge if it’s really safe to be here.

  “I don’t know.” Goodie shrugs his shoulder.

  Michael considers the question and eventually says, “She asked a valid question, AWOL. Why were they there?”

  “I didn’t have a one on one conversation with the aliens before they decided to fry my squad unit.”

  “Was there something going on?” Michael presses.

  “I told you that some guys from my squad went to get water. Came back with pictures of the spaceships.”

  “Those guys didn’t say what they were doing?”

  “The spaceships were flying. I mean, what else can they do? Well, we know what they can do, but you know what I’m saying.”

  “Okay, AWOL.” Michael huffs and turns to me. “Kris, we have to check this place out.”

  “I don’t want to go. What if the aliens are over there, and we can’t see them?”

  “They’re not.”

  “We can check the next shopping center.”

  “The next one won’t be for miles. There’s nothing but country until we reach Fredericksburg. We stop here, get another backpack for you, stock up on supplies, and maybe find bicycles.”

  My heart races. The last shopping center was turned to dust. If we’re inside, and the spaceships come to this area, we could be trapped. I can’t take that chance. We have to keep going.

  “Let her stay here,” Goodie says.

  “No way,” Michael answers quickly.

  “She’ll be fine. If anyone bothers her,” Goodie reaches into his cargo pocket and holds out a gun, “she can use this.”

  “You didn’t tell us you had a weapon.”

  “You didn’t ask, and I forgot.”

  “Is it loaded?” I ask, taking it from Goodie.

  Michael tries to get it from me, but I step just out of his reach.

  “Be careful,” my brother worries.

  “I’m not two years old, and I know how to fire a gun.”

  “It’s loaded,” Goodie answers. “Belonged to my lieutenant. Soon as the rockets hit those ships, he dropped this gun and took off. Talking about someone being a deserter. Dude straight up coward.”

  “Yeah, I guess you would know, AWOL.”

  “Man, I did my part for God and country, and the aliens whipped my ass.”

  “Okay, guys, I’ll stay here,” I reply, getting them back on track.

  “Kris, just because you have a gun, it doesn’t mean you won’t get hurt. It’s better if all three of us go together.”

  “I can take care of myself.”

  “I never said you couldn’t. I would be nervous leaving you out here. If we’re together, we can look out for each other. We can get what we need faster and be out of here in no time.”

  “Okay, Michael, okay,” I sigh.

  I take one last look south. The fire is definitely getting close, and the sizzling sound is louder.

  “Give me the gun.” Michael has his hand out.

  “That’s mine,” Goodie pipes up.

  I give Michael the gun. He hands it back to Goodie. Without anything else said, Michael runs towards the shopping center. I fall in behind him. Goodie is with me.

  There are several different shops, but the one Michael has his eyes on is the men’s store. The doors are locked, and it’s dark inside. I’m surprised someone hasn’t broken into the place already. Michael pulls at the handles.

  “They’re closed,” I remark.

  Goodie tells us to step back and fires his gun at the glass. The noise echoes off the surrounding area. I look around, wondering if anyone else sees what we’re doing. I hear people, but they’re not close and not in sight. Michael and Goodie go in. I can’t. My legs are too weak. I’m sweating and nervous. I hear shuffling inside. Something falls and rolls across the floor.

  After a long few minutes, Goodie is the first to return. Looking like an entirely different man, he’s changed out of his military gear into comfortable civilian attire, and he has a backpack. On his feet are lime green tennis shoes and socks with pink golf clubs embroidered across the top hem. Goodie smiles big as he poses and saunters in front of me. I can’t believe how happy he is about stealing something he didn’t pay for.

  Michael comes out soon afterwards and tosses a backpack at me. He signals for us to follow him.

  Instead of heading back to the main road, the guys run down to the grocery store at the end of the shopping center. People are going in. Looters coming out. This must be where the noise was coming from. Michael takes out his pistol. Goodie follow suit.

  “This place is calm, but it can turn bad quickly,” Michael replies to me. “We stay together as a team.” He looks to Goodie. “Got it, AWOL.”

  “I’m with you, man.”

  “Fill up your backpacks with nonrefrigerated items,” Michael instructs us. “We need food that won’t spoil in the sun. No family size packs of any kind.”

  “Okay,” I answer, jumping from a distant explosion.

  “And we need to work fast. Those ships are coming this way.”

  We go in. The moment we pass the registers, we realize there’s a lot more people than we thought, and the shelves are close to empty. Michael, Goodie, and I start the treasure hunt. Miraculously, we find a bounty. Crackers. Beef jerkies. Potato chips. Tiny bottles of water – we unpack those and take what we can. Health bars. Ice cream cones. Oranges. Bread. Miniature cereal boxes. By the time we’re done, our backpacks are stuffed. We get out of the store as fast as we can, going directly for the main road.

  A spaceship zips somewhere close, but I don’t see it. We don’t stick around to see where exactly it’ll show up. This time, I lead the retreat. A natural landscape of trees is up ahead another block. If we reach it, we’ll be safe. Sure enough, we do, but we keep going, crossing the major intersection.

  An explosion goes off behind us. Two spaceships hover up the road, a little farther back from the grocery store. The familiar sound of sizzling is clear. Lightning arches towards the structure, crooked lines meet their targets. Another building explodes into dust, blowing up and out. Fire shoots at the sky like the breath of a dragon. Instead of the winged creature coming from the bowels of the destruction, the spaceships streak to the next target.

  We aim to put more distance between us and them. From now on, that will be my goal, and as far as I’m concerned, we’re not stopping at any more shopping centers. They are targets.

  We reach the next intersection. The area has one building and plenty of trees. Out of breath, I flop down on the grass under a shady sycamore. Goodie gives me two thumbs up, more than happy I decided to end our weighted down trot. Michael keeps an eye on the southern skies. The ships are so close, but I am too tired to keep going. My feet need to rest. My body aches, and it is hot beyond belief. Fifteen minutes. That’s all I need, and then we can go until the sun sets.

  C H A P T E R

  11

  It’s a strange feeling, walking on a highway of abandoned cars in the middle of the day. It seems like every single person has vanished. Baby seats are vacant. A few doors are wide open. Some are locked up tight. I
t doesn’t feel right. Where did the drivers and passengers go? Were all these people that abandoned their vehicles close to home? Or are they just hunkered down somewhere until it’s safe? And why are we the only ones out here? I don’t like the quiet and the vacant spaces. Dogs aren’t barking. The wind stands still. Even the birds refuse to sing.

  “What are you going to do when you get home?” I ask Goodie.

  “Kiss my wife. Hug my kids. Try to be a better man for as long as I can.”

  “You weren’t better before?”

  “Always room for improvement. What about you?”

  “Start over.”

  “How?”

  That’s a good question. What will I do in a bunker? Read books. Exercise during my free time. What if that’s all I have is free time? I finally reply, “I have no idea.”

  “Where is home?”

  “I told you before,” Michael jumps in. “It’s none of your business.”

  “No need to flip out, man. No big deal.”

  “Stop asking where we’re going? Got it?”

  “Michael, calm down,” I respond calmly. “We’re having a simple conversation.”

  “That’s the problem. You’re talking too much.”

  I push my brother. “What did you say to me?”

  Realizing the error in his choice of words, Michael doesn’t answer. His silence only ticks me off more.

  “I will say and do whatever I damn well please. You understand me, Michael?”

  “Yes, I hear you loud and clear.”

  “I asked if you understand.”

  “Yes, Kris, I do. I understand, and I didn’t mean what I said.”

  “Yes, you did. Every word you speak, you mean.”

  “Okay,” he says, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Okay.”

  In his show of remorse, there is no sincerity. I wish there’s something else I can say to wake him up to his condescending apology. Punching him won’t fix his attitude or his mouth. I walk ahead, leaving both in my wake. I’ve forgotten about Michael’s superiority complex, his better than everyone else mantra he wears like a coat on a winter’s day. I can’t stand that about him. He forgets he’s susceptible to delusions of grandeur and faulty reasoning.

  At this point, it takes every atom in my being to keep going. The road stretches long, and I don’t want to walk hundreds of miles. The distance might as well be infinity. We have to find a working car or bicycles, scooter, skateboard, or something with wheels. Hell, I’ll take a broomstick if they could fly. If we were driving to Pennsylvania, we would arrive in six to seven hours. But this walking thing. I don’t know how much more I can take.

  “I’m not trying to cause problems between you and your brother,” Goodie says.

  “Our problems started long before you came along.”

  “Talking about it. Listening to each other. Without anger, of course, always work.”

  “Never thought about doing that before,” I remark facetiously. “Thank you for the wonderful advice.”

  “Anyway I can help, Kris. Anyway I can help.” Goodie peers over his shoulder at Michael. “But on a serious note, I can separate myself from you two.”

  “That’s not necessary.”

  “He doesn’t want me here.”

  “And I don’t feel like walking any further. Neither one of us is going to get our way. Look, Goodie, I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but it doesn’t make sense for you to separate yourself from us. You’re going to Fredericksburg. We’re going through it.”

  “Trying to make this trip as smooth as possible.”

  “It’s going to be what it is, no matter if…”

  “What in the hell is that?” Michael is looking to his left.

  Flying above the top of the trees is an enormous black cube. Compared to the size of an ice cream truck, it’s five times bigger. The surface appears to shift, but I can’t tell if it’s something on the cube or the entire thing. As it moves silently past us, birds spray from the trees, flying furiously away from the object.

  My fear factor goes up a thousand. The need to run is immense, but as I consider which way to go, another comes up on our right. They continue north, the same direction we’re going.

  “Michael,” is all I can say as my mind draws a blank.

  “It’s okay, Kris.” He’s beside me. Both of us watch with complete shock.

  I almost ask what those cubes are supposed to do, but how would Michael or Goodie know? They’re seeing the cubes for the first time too.

  “You think those things are headed to Fredericksburg?” Goodie asks.

  “Possibility,” Michael answers.

  “Shit. I have to get up there as fast as I can.” Goodie runs out in front of us.

  He must not realize how far Fredericksburg is from where we are. He won’t be able to run all the way, and if he could, more than likely, he won’t make it there anytime soon.

  “We have to stop him,” I say to Michael.

  “Let him go. There’s no way we can keep up.”

  I hate to admit it, but my brother has made the right call. Goodie moves out pretty fast, and he hasn’t slowed down from what I can tell. Before long, he’s out of our sights.

  “He’s going to wear himself out before he gets there,” I remark. “Do you think we’ll meet up with him?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Michael, where do you think those things are headed?”

  “Fredericksburg. Washington DC. Baltimore.”

  “DC is a more logical choice. The U.S. Government is up there. The Pentagon. The White House. The Capitol Building. Is there something of real importance in Fredericksburg or Baltimore?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  “Goodie might be wearing himself out for nothing. His family could be perfectly safe.”

  “No one is safe anymore. He has a right to worry.”

  Regretting not trying to stop Goodie, I appeal to Michael, “We should be going with him. He might need our help.”

  “AWOL will be fine. He can take care of himself.”

  Even if I wanted to go against my brother, it’s too late now. Goodie is too far, and I’m not running to catch up with him. Plus, with it being so hot outside and my gut-wrenching fear, there isn’t an ounce of courage left in me.

  I feel bad for not putting forth any effort to keep up with him, but I have to realize that from now on meeting people will be fleeting moments. Having Goodie around was a nice added mix. I do hope I see him again.

  C H A P T E R

  12

  Ashland, Virginia

  Mom and pop businesses spring up. That means we’re getting close to a town, and if history repeats itself or has already happened again, that also means the small spaceships are nearby.

  I’m shivering from past experiences. Death was on my heels, and I couldn’t get away fast enough. Every town has a shopping center. I wonder if this town has one on this highway. I want to find a safe place, where I can hide and not worry about the aliens finding us.

  As we continue, I spot something on the horizon. It looks like a starling murmuration. The birds move like sheets blowing in the wind, shifting as if being folded, waving like ocean currents. It’s a smooth dance, but haunting. I haven’t seen such a phenomenon with my own eyes in nature before, but I’ve seen it on the news and videos uploaded to social media.

  “What’s wrong?” Michael asks.

  “Look over there, up ahead.”

  “A flock of starlings.”

  “I think we should go around it.”

  “There’s no telling where it’s going to move. We can’t avoid it.”

  I have a bad feeling about the murmuration. The movement is unpredictable, and the closer we get, it seems like the shifting formation takes up the entire sky.

  We get to an intersection, where people gawk at it.

  “There’s the seed,” I hear a woman reply.

  What does she mean? I can’t help but to check out what she�
��s talking about. From what I see, it’s not a flock of starlings. Tiny odd shaped objects are in the body. They are the ones that are dancing, but what are they? And what is the seed?

  I have to ask the woman. She’s moved away from me, talking to someone else. I make my way through the crowd.

  When I’m close, I tap her on the shoulder and reply, “Excuse me. I’m sorry to bother you.”

  At first, she doesn’t trust me, looking me up and down. But one take into my fearful eyes, her barrier drops. “Yeah,” she says.

  “What is a seed? I heard you mention it back there.”

  “Have you seen the spaceships that look like pistachios?”

  “Yes, they give off red lightning.”

  “That’s it. I call them seeds.”

  Confused, I ask, “Why?”

  “Because a pistachio is a seed, and instead of calling those things that long name, I went with seed.”

  “Oh.” And then I realize that’s what she spotted in the murmuration.

  “You see it?” She points up.

  Sure enough, it’s there, hiding in the moving mass and shadows. I don’t need to hear or see anything else. Where there’s one Seed, there are plenty more. I work my way through and out of the crowd as fast as I can. I don't see my brother. I must have left him in the group. I stand on my tiptoes, move back and forth, call his name. He doesn’t answer. Where the hell is he? I call him again. This time, he responds, pushing through the crowd, grabbing my arms.

  “What the hell, Kris!”

  “We have to go. There’s a Seed in the murmuration.”

  “A what?” he asks with confusion.

  I start up the street, rushing to get away from the crowd. The whole thing is a setup. The dance gains spectators, and when everyone has their guard down, the spaceships will turn them to dust. How can those people be so enthralled by clear and present danger? There’s nothing beautiful about that formation.

  I can’t run very far because the backpack is beating me up, but I do get a reasonable distance away in a short amount of time. Michael keeps looking back. Not me. If I don’t see the Seed and the murmuration, they don’t exist. I’m not in danger, and I won’t be a victim to the setup. We reach a stretch of trees and slow down the pace. The alien show cannot be seen from where we are, and there are no people.