Steven Konkoly - The Perseid Collapse

“There has to be a better way to do this,” Kate said.

“You can walk around to the front of the neighborhood and say hi to everyone on the way in,” said Alex.

She shook her head and swung her backpack around, hesitating to take the plunge.

“Don’t worry,” Alex said, smiling, “the water’s warm.”

“Very funny,” Kate said, then mumbled, “I’ve heard that before.”

She stepped down into the water, quickly sinking to her waist, then the top of her neck. She teetered trying to keep the rucksack in the air, nearly toppling into the water. Alex really hoped that didn’t happen. Normally, he might find the idea of Kate falling unexpectedly into water utterly hilarious, and if the circumstances were right, he’d consider facilitating the situation. This wasn’t one of those times. She didn’t look the least bit amused with the situation.

“Are you going to stand there and watch me sink in to my eyebrows, or maybe help me with this pack?”

“I hadn’t decided yet.” Alex smirked. After a short pause, he waded into the water and grabbed her pack.

“That’s yours now, by the way. I’m done with that piece of shit,” she said, scrambling up the side of the ditch.

He broke into laughter. “You’re lucky I don’t throw you back in the water.”

“You can try.”

“I’ll ferry the rest of the packs across,” Alex offered. “I didn’t realize the water would come up so high on you—though I was really hoping there for a second.”

“If I had fallen in, you would be in the deepest shit you’ve ever been in.”

Alex heaved the last pack up to Kate and helped Emily out of the water, pulling her with both hands. He was surprised by the difficulty the group experienced crossing the small ditch. The five-mile hike in the blistering sun had pretty much sapped all of their energy, turning the simple act of crossing a waist-deep ditch into a chore. The water had felt good, though he had never once considered jumping into any of the standing water seen along their route. Hiking in wet pants and shoes was a recipe for disastrous chafing and blisters. Only the promise of dry clothing at the very end of their hike had drawn him across the ditch. He felt a pair of hands on his back.

“You wouldn’t dare,” he said, without turning around.

“Maybe another day. The water felt good, though,” Kate said, pulling him by his left hand.

“It did feel good, even though my pants are filled with mud.”

A minute later, they stepped onto the mud-swept street. The storm drain in front of the Murrays’ old house gushed dirty water onto the street, creating a shallow swamp that covered the street in front of several houses and crept up the driveways. Between the houses, the entire neighborhood resembled a mudflat, littered with downed trees, seaweed, and persistently scattered debris, complete with a small lake forming at the northeastern edge.

He didn’t see anyone standing outside, which struck him as odd. For some reason, he’d expected more activity, but the neighborhood was quiet except for the excited chatter of several birds. He kept forgetting that the wave had hit them over six hours ago. By now, most of them would be exhausted from a combination of fear, stress, heat and humidity. He hoped they stayed inside for the rest of the day. By tomorrow, he would be long gone.

Alex looked up the northern side of the Durham Road loop toward the top of the development. Water pumped less forcefully from the other storm drains he could observe, creating rivulets through the mud that fed the street pond. He stared in awe at the new landscape. Aside from the obvious orientation of the houses, there was nothing to indicate he was standing on a road. Something shifted in the pond, catching their attention. He knew what it was before anyone spoke.

“Is that… a body?” asked Kate.

“I think so. Let’s keep everyone moving. Don’t stop for—”

“Alex! Alex! Thank God almighty you’re here!” yelled Charlie Thornton from his front porch a few houses away.

Dressed in Vietnam-era, tiger-striped camouflage, clutching an overaccessorized AR-15-style rifle, Charlie sprinted down the granite stairs leading off his farmer’s porch. He grazed the light post to the left of his red-brick walkway with his left shoulder, nearly tumbling into the mud, and stomped through the slush across two lawns. He screamed their names, along with something about Chinese paratroopers. So much for a stealthy entry.

“I need this like a hole in the head right now,” mumbled Alex. “Take the kids home, and start filling containers with tap water. Bathtubs, glasses, coolers, anything that’ll hold water. I’ll be right there.”

“You’re alive! You made it! We’ve got a fucking invasion on our hands. I’ll get you a rifle—hold on. Bring everyone up to the house. We’re totally screwed, Alex. This is what we’ve been preparing for! Christ, what the hell happened to you? Looks like you stepped on a landmine. Hi, Kate,” said Charlie in a rapid-fire, adrenaline-induced stream of words.

“Hey, Charlie,” she responded and immediately turned to Alex. “I’ll see you at the house, honey.”

“Wait! Let me get you some weapons,” said Charlie.

“I think they can make it to our house without an armed escort. I’ll be right there, honey. Is the safety engaged on your rifle, Charlie?”

“Why does everyone always ask me about the safety?” Charlie asked, furtively thumbing the safety switch.

Alex put a hand on Charlie’s right shoulder. “Because I could see from thirty feet away that it wasn’t on, and you just bounced off a light post with your finger on the trigger. Good to see you, by the way. Is everyone all right in your house?”

“Uh, yeah, everyone is fine. The wave scared the shit out of the girls, but it didn’t tear through my house like the rest,” said Charlie.

“Anyone we know?” said Alex, motioning to the body stuck in the street pond.

“I don’t think so. Nobody in the neighborhood is missing. That one must have been completely buried in the mud until the water dislodged it. It’s not the first. We cleared a few out of the drainage ditches, and I hear that the Carters found one against the back of their house.”

“We saw bodies in the harbor, but none on the road. How is your basement?” Alex asked, knowing the answer.

“Completely flooded,” Charlie replied. “Came in through the shattered cellar windows in back. I hauled a lot of stuff up when I saw that glow in the sky to the west and our cars wouldn’t start. Mostly weapons and our bug-out bags. We’ve been hit by an EMP blast. That’s why I’m running around with my rifle. Chinese jeeps could come tearing through the neighborhood at any second.”

“I highly doubt we’re facing a Chinese invasion. We’ve definitely been hit by something, but I don’t expect paratroopers to appear in the skies above Scarborough any time soon,” said Alex, starting to walk on the sidewalk toward his house.

“That’s the problem, Alex. Nobody knows what’s happening. The radio is dead silent. No emergency broadcast. Nothing. We have to assume this is a full-scale invasion until proven otherwise. Where’s your pistol?”

“Taken by the Coast Guard. There’s really nothing being transmitted?”

Charlie shook his head. “Nothing at all. Hey! What do you mean taken by the Coast Guard?”

“Things are changing rapidly. Give me about an hour to assess the situation at my house; then we’ll meet up to figure out a game plan.”

“You’re going to Boston to get your son, right?”

“Yeah. I may leave tonight if it’s feasible. I’ll grab Ed’s kid too,” said Alex.

“You make sure to count me in on that one. I’m serious,” said Charlie, grabbing his arm and stopping him.