Steven Konkoly - The Perseid Collapse

Of course, the entire turnover was not finance related. The psychopaths from Massachusetts had murdered two households, using his friend Greg Murray’s home as a base of operations for their reign of terror. Greg’s wife understandably refused to live in the house after learning what had happened. They’d moved closer to Greg’s parents in the Catskills and were never seen again.

Eventually, the neighborhood emerged as one collective group of strangers. Adults avoided eye contact, children were kept close at hand, and doors were locked. The more he thought about it, the less he’d miss the place. His home was with Kate and the kids.

Light bathed the side of Jamie’s house, blinding him. He raised the goggles and searched for the source.

Shit. Come on, Ed.

“Ed’s on his way,” said Charlie.

No shit.

“Ed, turn off your lights,” he said, straining not to yell.

“We almost hit a tree on Harrison Road. I’m not taking any chances.”

“Copy. We’ll be waiting for you in the garage,” Alex said, clipping the radio onto his rifle sling.

He dashed out of the bedroom, still partially blinded from the night vision flare caused by Ed’s headlights. He hit the flashlight toggle switch on the rifle’s hand guard, illuminating the stairs for his descent. Samantha waited in the candlelit kitchen.

“They’re inbound,” he said, blowing out one of the candles on the kitchen island.

Alex flashed his rifle light toward the mudroom to make sure he didn’t collide with anyone lingering in the house. He reached the mudroom door just as Ed’s headlights swept through the garage, spotlighting the group waiting to load up for the last trip.

“I can’t believe we’re just leaving everything,” said Samantha.

“I’m trying not to think about it,” he said.

“Fifteen years down the drain,” she added, following him into the garage.

“Hey, you won’t have to pay the rest of the mortgage,” joked Alex.

“I’d rather make payments.”

“Start bringing everything out,” barked Kate.

Daniel, Ed and Samantha’s son, said, “We need a light.”

Alex lit up the bike carrier with his rifle’s LED barrel-mounted flashlight.

“Here, I got it,” said Samantha, activating a handheld light. “I’m not comfortable with you pointing a rifle at my kids.”

“The safety’s on,” said Alex, lowering his rifle to help with the bikes.

“Humor me.”

When the bikes and gear were safely stowed, Alex stepped into the garage and closed the bay door, reengaging the manual release lever to lock it in the down position. He left through the back garage door, locking it behind him. Standing on the side of Ed’s Jeep, he caught the last glimpses of his home superimposed against a thicker, lighter blue ribbon of twilight.

EVENT +24:47 Hours

South Portland, Maine

Alex stood on the Jeep’s passenger-side running board and surveyed the intersection before turning his attention to the rapidly approaching mob. This hadn’t work out so well.

Lesson learned.

He’d wanted to stage their departure from a less conspicuous location further back along Route 1, but the water and mud had reached further than he’d expected. By choosing the parking lot, he had traded one problem for another. Human activity.

Tents and makeshift shelters proliferated on the grassy areas surrounding the hotel, spilling onto the sidewalks and edges of the parking lots. A sea of useless cars provided additional shelter to the refugees, who must have arrived yesterday to find that the hotel was full. The remnants of jumbled letters on the hotel’s roadside sign welcomed some kind of conference or gathering.

Their initial arrival had attracted attention, which had grown from a few dazed, exhausted, early-morning risers upon the first drop off, to an increasingly agitated mob of thirty by the time he had returned with the third carload of bicycles and family. Like zombies, the entire group shifted its collective attention to the working vehicle, sensing salvation and opportunity. Alex weighed their options and decided for a hasty departure. He activated his handheld radio.

“Charlie, get everyone up and moving while they’re distracted. Next rally point is the Maine Mall offramp. We’ll keep moving the Jeep until you guys are clear of the parking lot.”

“Roger that. Hey, I don’t have a bike,” replied Charlie.

“Run alongside the bicycles, and make sure they get out of the parking lot. I’ll pick you up at the intersection.”

“Copy. Moving out.”

Alex dropped into the front passenger seat and shut the door. “Pull back from the crowd and reposition near the conference center entrance. That should give Charlie enough time to get them out of here,” he said to Ed.

“Make sure the doors are locked back there. Yours too, Ed.”

The crowd had nearly reached them by the time Ed shifted into reverse and put some distance between the Jeep and the mob. The crowd continued to press forward, yelling a simultaneous string of incoherent and indistinguishable demands at his open window. In the growing daylight, he could see a few rifle barrels in the crowd, most of them pointing upward—for now. He had no intention of letting this group near the Jeep.

“Samantha, put your packs against the doors and have everyone squeeze into the middle. Stay low,” he said, hoping to put a little more than thin metal jeep framing between Ed’s family and a bullet.

While Samantha rearranged the back seating area, putting two packs against the door next to Daniel, Alex peered past the crowd.

We aren’t moving fast enough.

“Charlie, Kate—get them up and moving. We’re running out of time here,” he said into the handheld radio, getting no response from either.

“Alex, this is stupid. We need to get the hell out of here,” said Ed.

“They’re all up on their bikes. Twenty seconds. Move back further, but don’t get us cornered,” said Alex.

“We don’t have a ton of parking lot left. If they grab one of the bikes off the Jeep, our plan is screwed,” said Ed, driving them at an angle to the hotel and conference center.

“Slow us down.”

“Slow us down ? Fuck that. We’re out of here. Charlie and Kate have plenty of room to get them out of the parking lot.” Ed stepped on the gas and propelled the Jeep toward one of the exits for Route 1.

“Stay down back there!” said Alex, hoping that the mob’s rifles stayed silent.

He was relieved to be moving away from the mob, which was now running in a futile attempt to catch up with the Jeep. Ed drove them to the southernmost exit, which drew the crowd further away from the other group. By the time they turned north on Route 1, Kate and the other cyclists had reached the gas station and accelerated. Charlie trailed them by fifty feet. Kate’s group would be long gone before elements of the mob arrived, but he wasn’t so sure about Charlie.

As soon as Ed floored the Jeep, pointing it toward Route 1, the crowd chasing them split apart. While the majority of the group continued in a straight, zombielike path toward the vehicle, a smaller group sprinted toward Charlie. Alex did the math and didn’t like the outcome. As their Jeep turned onto Route 1, he began to lose sight of the pack behind loosely spaced rows of thick, flowering bushes along the sidewalk between the road and parking lot. Ed jammed on the accelerator, speeding them toward the intersection. Alex glanced through the windshield and saw Kate’s group cross Route 1 headed west onto the Maine Turnpike Approach Road.

“This is guaranteed to get shitty,” said Alex.