Steven Konkoly - The Perseid Collapse

“Until we get it figured out, we should run patrols along the perimeter,” said Kate.

“Tomorrow. We’ll be fine tonight. There’s a room for every family upstairs. Ethan and Kevin will share a room. Amy and I will take the small bedroom. We can move some beds around and make it work. We can lock the door at the top of the stairs,” said Tim.

“I’ll sleep down here, with my friend,” Linda said, nodding at one of the rifles set against the screen porch frame.

“Same with me,” said Kate.

“I’ll take a real bed upstairs,” said Samantha, draining her beer.

“You’ll be lucky if you make it off the porch,” said Linda.

“I think I’m ready for bed right now.”

“You’ve had a long day. Why don’t we finish up here and get the kids inside,” Tim suggested.

“I wouldn’t bother them unless we have to,” said Linda.

“Once the sun hits the treetops, the mosquitos take over. Kevin and Ethan are already getting up. Amy will get them situated upstairs, and I’ll lock everything up once everyone’s inside.”

Kate studied her watch, the digital numbers fuzzy for a moment: 7:34. She finished her beer and contemplated another, but shook her head. Three would be more than enough. She’d sleep hard tonight. Linda saw her check the watch.

“Do you think they’re heading out now?” she asked.

“That was the plan,” said Kate. “Clear the outskirts of the city at dusk.”

“I hope Charlie had the sense to stay with the Jeep,” said Linda. “He’s in no shape to hike that far. Not with all that gear.”

“Are you serious? Why didn’t you say something when we were studying the maps?” said Samantha.

“I tried. You know how he gets.”

“It’s all fine,” said Kate, stopping the argument and drawing their stares. “Alex isn’t going to let him hike into the city.”

Linda shrugged her shoulders and squinted. “What are you saying?”

“He told me that he’d make sure Charlie stayed with the Jeep,” said Kate.

“How was he going to do that?” said Linda, annoyed.

“I don’t know. That’s all he said,” said Kate, willing Tim to offer her another beer.

“When was he planning to ditch Ed?” said Samantha.

“Come on now. Linda, you just said you didn’t want your husband leaving the Jeep,” said Kate. “And Samantha, do you want Ed swimming the Charles River?”

“He’s going to leave Ed at the Charles?” said Samantha, shaking her head.

“I didn’t say that,” said Kate.

“But you and Alex clearly talked about the Charles River. Ed’s not a strong swimmer. Alex knows that. Anything else you want to tell us? He’s still planning on getting both of our kids back, right? Not just Ryan?” said Samantha.

“Samantha,” scolded Linda.

“It’s not like that. He’s just worried that Ed might slow him down in the city. Alex is good at this kind of thing. He’s done it before,” said Kate. “I’ll have another beer.”

“I think the bar is closed,” said Tim.

“Thanks,” she said.

“Alex is good at this kind of thing? How long ago was he in the Marine Corps? He better not put Ed and Chloe in danger,” said Samantha.

“Is everything all right, Mom?” asked Samantha’s son, Daniel, from the steps leading up to the screened porch.

“Totally fine. We’re just talking about what the dads are doing,” she said, smiling.

“Trust me. That’s the last thing he would want,” said Kate quietly.

“I hope you’re right. Alex isn’t the one-man army he thinks he is,” whispered Samantha, as the kids entered the porch.

“He knows that,” said Kate, not altogether convinced.

EVENT +38:42 Hours

Medford, Massachusetts

Amber rays lingered on the soot-stained, red-brick chimney and vanished. Only the blackened, naked branches of a maple tree beyond the mangled roof reflected the last vestiges of the sun’s arc through the crisp summer sky. Alex shifted his binoculars to the loose stream of civilians wandering up Governors Avenue. Perfect.

He popped five ibuprofen pills into his dry mouth and took a swig of water from his CamelBak hose, choking the pills down. Beyond the throbbing arm, his whole body ached. He leaned his head against the tree trunk and took in the last few moments of rest he could expect for the next twenty-four hours.

“Ready?” he said to Ed.

“Shouldn’t we wait until that group passes?” Ed asked, peering through the bushes.

“It doesn’t matter at this point. We no longer have the option of avoiding people.” Alex stood up. “It’ll get worse the further we go.”

“But we still try to avoid the military or police?”

“At some point it will be unavoidable. I’d like to postpone that as long as possible. Follow my lead and stick close. Remember, I’m escorting you through the city.”

“It’s a thin story,” said Ed.

“All in the delivery, my friend. You’ll see,” said Alex, helping him to his feet.

He squeezed the remote radio transmit button attached to his tactical chest rig. He had taken some of their time at the edge of the reservation to tape the radio hardware in place to make it easier to use. A black wire led from his earpiece to the button, which was attached to the radio in one of the chest pouches.

“Durham one-seven. Three-two and three-one stepping off,” said Alex.

“Copy. All quiet here at the home base. Have fun in the city.”

“Three-two looks thrilled,” Alex responded. “Stay on this channel for updates. We’ll keep them coming as long as we’re in range.”

“I’ll be here. One-seven out.”

“That’s it?” said Ed.

“That’s it. The kids aren’t coming to us,” said Alex, adjusting his rifle to sit across his chest.

“You’re not scared?”

“I’m scared shitless,” said Alex.

He stepped out of the forest onto South Border Road, freezing a group of college-aged backpackers in the middle of the street. A few of them raised their hands. He ignored them and crossed the street, his attention drawn to the white colonial they had watched from the forest. The paint was blistered and peeled on the eastern-facing side, something they couldn’t see from their hide site in the reservation. Dozens of the wooden siding strips were cracked.

“What does that look like to you?” said Alex, pointing at the house.

“The whole house is sagging,” said Ed.

“No, I mean the… shit, you’re right,” said Alex.

The broken cedar planks formed a rough, diagonal line that ran from the top right corner of the house and disappeared near the middle of a wall, behind a ragged, charred row of evergreen bushes along the concrete foundation. The thick tangle of small branches blocked a clear view of the concrete.

“We didn’t see anything like this in Stoneham,” he remarked.

“No, we didn’t,” muttered Ed. “See how the paint’s peeled away? What would happen to someone standing outside?”

“Second-or third-degree burns. Let’s keep moving,” said Alex, pulling at his pack.

“Good thing this happened at five in the morning.”

“That’s about the only break anyone got with this.”

He led Ed down a side street that would take them past the Lawrence Memorial Hospital and any obvious law-enforcement roadblocks. They ran into a few clusters of refugees, all working their way northeast to Interstate 93 or Route 28. Most of the groups had young children. They hopped a low stone wall and crossed a short lawn to reach the corner of a two-story home at the intersection of Lawrence and Ashcroft.

“Hold up here. Lawrence spans most of northern Medford. High traffic potential,” said Alex.