Steven Konkoly - The Perseid Collapse

“I can’t ask you to follow me down there, Charlie.”

“You don’t have to ask.”

“I really appreciate that. I’ll keep you in the loop. Promise,” said Alex.

“I’ll keep myself in the loop, if you don’t mind. The thought of you and Ed cruising down to Boston on a search-and-rescue mission makes me cringe. Ed’s about as tactical as a circus clown.”

Alex couldn’t help laughing at the image. Charlie had an indomitable sense of humor that was infectious—to a point.

“What are we looking at with the rest of the neighborhood?”

“Everything seems calm for now,” said Charlie. “I went around with a few others to make sure everyone filled up on water. The basement flooding kind of fucked up a lot of people’s emergency stockpiles. They’ll be fine once the water drains—if it drains. Wait until you see the retention pond—I mean lake.”

“Looks like I’m in for some snorkeling. I have some shit I need down there, and I don’t have that kind of time. Give me an hour, man,” said Alex.

“You got it, buddy. Hey, I might need to borrow one of your snorkeling masks. I didn’t get all of my toys out of the basement. Forgot the thermal scope.”

“Thermal scope? You’re crazy. You know that, right?”

“Doesn’t sound so crazy now, does it?” said Charlie.

“Unfortunately, it doesn’t. By the way, I think you’re about five decades behind with your camouflage choice. I haven’t seen anyone wear tiger-stripe cammies since—”

“John Wayne. Green Berets. The guy was a legend. I watched that movie with my dad when I was nine years old. We watched it every year since. This was the first and only pair of camouflage I’ve ever used hunting. Well, I’ve made some modifications over the years, and replaced the trousers, but you get the picture.”

“John Wayne.” Alex laughed. “He also played Davy Crocket in The Alamo , which means you should be wearing that squirrel cover of yours too.”

“He wore a coonskin cap, and his had the raccoon face in front. I have a collector’s edition in my office, but it’s in a glass case. You’re talking about this one,” said Charlie, pulling his famed coonskin cap out of his right cargo pocket.

“Damn, that thing’s ugly. Looks like it’s seen better years,” said Alex, exaggerating a look of dismay.

“Never missed a shot wearing this baby. You know that better than anyone,” he said, proudly donning the cap and creating the most ridiculous-looking outfit Alex had ever seen.

“That I do. See you in a few.”

Alex saluted Charlie and picked up Kate’s backpack, turning toward the southern side of the Durham Road loop. Kate and the kids had already disappeared behind the Bradys’ house, which made him slightly nervous. He wasn’t sure why, but Charlie had made a solid point. Without any information, they truly had no idea what they were up against. While Charlie’s theories about a Chinese invasion force were too farfetched for Alex’s vivid imagination, nobody could deny that they were on the receiving end of a massive, wide-scale “event.” Man made or natural, he didn’t think it mattered. The result would be the same.

Chaos.

EVENT +08:45 Hours

Scarborough, Maine

The mud wasn’t as deep immediately in front of Alex’s house, most likely because the house had deflected the initial surge and created a buffer. He stepped between two pine bushes that defiantly protruded from the muck and landed on what he knew logically was the slate walkway connecting the front door to the driveway. He could hear activity in the house, and hoped that Kate would open one of the doors for him. He didn’t feel like dragging her pack through the backyard.

The act of finally arriving at their destination had suddenly deprived him of energy, as if his mind had involuntarily dampened his sympathetic nervous system, reducing production of the hormones responsible for his fight-or-flight response to the day’s event. It didn’t surprise him, considering that he’d been engaged in this mode since five in the morning. There would be no break in his immediate future. Right now, he needed to make an assessment of their situation, starting with their Chevy Tahoe.

He saw Kate’s face appear in the mudroom door window and headed for the granite stoop. He had a bad feeling that the word “mudroom” was about to take on a whole new meaning. She cracked the door a few inches, allowing a thick stream of water to pour through the opening onto their porch before pulling it the rest of the way. He glanced at the bottoms of the double garage doors and saw a thin stream of water leaking from the far left bay. Shit. His garage had filled too. So much for their bug-out vehicle.

Kate appeared with a tired look. “I’m estimating that to be about a foot and a half. The family room’s the same. The rest of the floors are covered in about six inches of this wonderful shit slime. Be careful once you’re inside. It all looks the same depth.”

“Have you checked the basement?”

“I came right here to let you in. We had to climb over what’s left of the deck,” said Kate.

Alex handed over her backpack, and she hung it on one of the empty coat hooks while his eyes adjusted to the shadowy interior of their house. The first thing he noticed was the high-water stain on the drywall, less than an inch from the ceiling. That couldn’t be right. He scanned the entire mudroom and saw the same line just below the ceiling. He nearly tripped over one of their kitchen island stools examining the roof. He heard the water pipes running in the house and looked through the doorway to the kitchen.

“The kids are filling up the bathtubs,” she responded.

“Good. At least the water still works—what are the chances that the Tahoe still runs?”

“Give it a shot,” Kate said. “If it works, we’ll have half a chance to get Ryan.”

“I’ll get him back no matter what,” Alex said, stepping over to the door.

“I know. I know. I just… looking around here, I’m not hopeful about his chances if this thing hit closer to Boston.”

Alex stepped away from the garage door and held her tight, nestling his head next to her ear and kissing her neck.

“He’ll be fine. I’ll start walking tonight if I have to. This is nothing. A minor bump in the road. In three days, we’ll be eating at a picnic table with my parents in Limerick,” he whispered.

“Not if you’re walking,” said Kate.

“Ten days. Let’s check the Tahoe and see what we’re dealing with.”

Alex opened the door to the garage and was greeted by a foot of mud, which reached the bottom of the truck’s doors. Silt and small debris covered the black Tahoe from top to bottom. The deluge of water, which at one point had risen above the Tahoe, had upended the garage. A red plastic gas can sat on the SUV’s roof, while the rest of the garage’s tools and sporting goods equipment was nowhere to be seen, presumably under the water. He pressed the key fob to unlock the SUV and was rewarded by the familiar chirping sound. He pressed it again and heard the door mechanisms activate.

“Good news, honey,” he said, hopeful for the first time since waking up this morning.

He jumped into the mud and splashed across the empty bay to reach the SUV, tripping on something submerged below the surface. Quickly regaining his balance, he yanked the door open, which released a small quantity of foamy water into the muck below.

“That’s not a good sign,” she said.

He pocketed the key fob and hopped into the truck, pressing the keyless ignition button. The batteries turned the engine over, and for a few glorious moments, he thought the Tahoe might start. He should have known better. The 2018 Tahoe hybrid was one of the most technologically advanced heavy SUVs on the market. The commercials likened it to a fly-by-wire aircraft, where every aspect of its performance was monitored and controlled by multiple onboard computers. It was one of the safest, most fuel-efficient vehicles of its kind thanks to cutting-edge technology. Now this revolutionary beast was simply in the way of the bicycles hanging on the far side of the garage. He looked at Kate and smiled.