Bleak

  Earth Endures

  Bleak

  Jacqueline Druga

  Copyright © Jacqueline Druga 2019

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without prior written permission from the publisher.

  This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any person or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. No affiliation is implied or intended to any organisation or recognisable body mentioned within.

  Published by Vulpine Press in the United Kingdom in 2019

  Cover by Claire Wood

  ISBN: 978-1-912701-55-1

  www.vulpine-press.com

  For my son, Noah, my sounding board and reality checker. You truly are my muse.

  Part One: The Plan

  ONE

  A single tap of hail hit against the windshield, but Reyanne Harper dismissed it as one of those pesky pieces of gravel. After all, it was spring and the dreaded road construction season had begun. She didn’t think much about it, why would she? She heard it and dismissed the sound. It was still early and she just wanted to get to Grinds for a latte and one of those egg white bites, if they had any left. They seemed to always run out before nine.

  So far it was turning into a great day; great days for her were few and far between. Despite the fact that she’d had very little sleep, Rey was still up before her alarm clock went off. She’d even had time to put on a little makeup. Her students at Saint Germaine would surely comment. They always did when she did her hair and makeup. Plus, Rey wasn’t running late and that was an oddity in itself.

  She’d not only be there before first bell, at her current travel rate, even with stopping for coffee, she’d be there before the first bus arrived.

  Perhaps she’d even get a latte for Mr. Hibbs, the poor unfortunate teacher on bus-greeting duty. Which meant he had to be there an hour earlier.

  The sun was shining with only a few clouds in the sky, the temperature was perfect, and she got what she considered ‘Princess Parking’ in the lot by the coffee shop.

  All that positivity changed in an instant when the sky quickly clouded over and the bright blue sky turned gray and threatening.

  Thinking Wow that was fast, Rey turned off her car and stepped out. One clap of thunder and it began.

  Tiny particles of hail began sounding like a thick rain as they hit against the ground. Rey was only fifty feet or so from the entrance, but before she even made it to the door, the hail went from peaceful sounding drops to menacing thunks.

  The tiny ice transformed from cereal size to golf ball size, and by the time she hurried inside freakishly huge chunks of ice rained down, some the size of basketballs. They fell fast and ferociously.

  Like the others that stood beside her watching out the window, Rey cringed and jolted, often afraid to look when she saw people running to get into their cars or take cover.

  Hail landed on cars, smashing roofs and breaking windshields, alarms rang out with screams from people pelted by the heavy objects, some falling down unconscious when they were hit. Vehicles on the road swerved and crashed; it was nothing less than a wall of broken ice pouring down from above. Even though there was an entire floor between her and the roof of the coffee shop, she could still hear the hail crashing through.

  Her lucky day feeling and being early for work was suddenly gone.

  Rey would be stuck in the coffee shop until the cars on the road were moved. Thankfully, for her job’s sake, she knew school would be delayed too.

  That happened a lot.

  For all the emotions Rey felt while watching the freak storm—fearful, saddened—one thing Rey didn’t feel … shocked.

  It didn’t surprise her one bit. It was the third of such storms in just over two weeks. It was par for the course with everything else that was happening.

  No one was really prepared, but there was nothing they could do about it. The hail storm was one of many things that had happened and would continue to happen. All the greatest minds in the world concurred this weather was the onset of the next extinction-level event. One that would take hundreds of years to complete.

  It was only the beginning. Rey was just happy she wouldn’t be around to see it all come to an end. At least that was what she believed.

  <><><><>

  When he was sixteen years old, Colonel Aldar Finch was arrested for the fifth time. Nothing major, or violent. Various forms of shoplifting, all of which involved food. It wasn’t that he was hungry, but his family was. His mother would never admit she didn’t have enough to eat. That wasn’t her style. She was a strong, proud black woman, who worked two jobs to support her two kids after her husband died.

  Aldar was twelve when his father passed away; his little sister Mariam was only three. His mother worked full time as a receptionist at the blood bank, and on weekends she worked at the hotel as a desk clerk.

  Despite working so much, money was always tight. It was expensive raising two children, and his mother never asked for a handout, never received welfare. Only occasionally would she go to the church’s foodbank, and that killed her. Aldar saw it on her face. If there was never enough on the table, she wouldn’t admit it, she would just say she wasn’t hungry.

  She was too proud.

  That was when Aldar decided to step in.

  He wanted to get a job, he really did, but he was the one who babysat when his mother worked. Plus, he was young and no one wanted to hire him.

  So he lied. He lied to his mother about doing odd jobs. Jobs that paid for the extra food she would discover when she got home, or the takeout pizza and hamburgers.

  Aldar was good at what he did. He wasn’t proud of it, but he justified his actions. Plus, he committed far more crimes than he was ever caught for.

  His mother never condoned what he did, and when the police would bring him home or call her, she was furious. She laid into him, punished him, cried at the thought of her own failures.

  It wasn’t her failure, Aldar tried to make her see. She was a good woman, he loved her, he just hated to see his mother so upset when they didn’t have enough money to get a full order of groceries. While other kids bought lunch in school, or packed amazing deli choices, they went to school with jelly sandwiches, leftovers in foil, or premade ramen noodles, which were tacky, and would be in clumps by the time lunch rolled around.

  Until Aldar started creatively thieving food, they never had takeout.

  He knew the Pizza Palace delivery guy would take more than one order with him on his route and never locked his car when he went to knock on the door.

  People were creatures of habit. The same people would order on the same night. Aldar would follow the delivery driver and snatch up one of those unattended pizzas. Something he would do only once a month.

  Other times for food, he’d hit the grocery store.

  Aldar wasn’t a bad kid. He never said a mean word, didn’t fight, went to school and got good grades. He just … took things for the benefit of his family.

  The first two times he was busted, they let him go. Didn’t even tell his mother. Third and fourth time, he was taken into the police station, charges were pressed, and the judge made him work at Rainbow Kitchen, the church-run soup kitchen, for three Sundays. The fifth and final time, the fine was more than his mother could pay, and when Aldar came home from school the day after his hearing, he was shocked to see a military man in his living room.

  “Aldar.” His mother, still wearing her blood bank uniform, stood from the couch the second he walked into the apartment. �
��This is Staff Sergeant Gimble, he’s with the air force. I work with his wife at the blood bank.”

  “Son,” the sergeant said, extending his hand. “Your mother tells me you may be in need of direction.”

  Sergeant Gimble wasn’t just some random co-worker’s husband offering to be a father figure, he was a recruiter.

  Back then, Aldar, in all his naivety, believed his mother had already signed up to send him off to the army, or one of those other branches of the service.

  To appease his mother, Aldar listened to him. He didn’t know if Gimble had some special secret brainwashing technique, but before he knew it, he was downtown at the federal building taking the aptitude test. However, the moment he found out that he scored exceptionally high, and he could pretty much have his pick of careers, Aldar was quick to say, “I wanna fly jets.”

  The rest was history.

  He never would have imagined his drive to succeed in the air force, or how much he would love it. It not only got him off the streets and out of the neighborhood, it got his mother and sister out as well.

  He kept enough out of his pay for spending money and sent the rest to his mother. The longer he was in the more he made, and he tried to give back as much as he could. He paid back the pizza shop, the corner store, and donated his time when he could to helping troubled teens.

  He was raised by a good woman and he was a good man. He never married, not that he didn’t want to or didn’t try. Three times he was engaged and they all broke it off, hating to compete with his job. His job became a bigger issue when he was accepted by NASA and the Space Corps program.

  He manned dozens of space flights and was essential in the development and testing of the Omni, which was in a sense the nearest thing to a starship, though not quite as big or futuristic as movies would depict them.

  Technology had advanced since the days of the shuttle, and Aldar was right there with it. He was a pioneer in the Space Corps, which was in its infancy when he joined.

  He wanted to fly jets … that he did.

  Aldar also made two other predictions in his life, that he would become president and would save the world.

  The presidency dropped off his radar of ambitions and ‘saving the world’ was more of a joke. Until the day he was asked to do so.

  Not so much save the world but to be instrumental in saving humanity.

  Aldar humbly accepted the request.

  His days and nights were consumed with training and learning all that he could for the mission. It included frequent meetings and planning sessions.

  Aldar didn’t mind those; they were all crucial in building a successful mission. And for the sake of the world they had to be successful.

  Like always, he was one of the first to arrive. Second only to General Hank Lang who stood outside the meeting building smoking a cigarette.

  He was the same age as Aldar, he’d just made it up the ladder a lot faster.

  “General.” Aldar saluted when he approached.

  “Al.” The general shook his hand.

  “Thought you’d quit smoking,” Aldar said.

  “I did. I missed it, used to love it. Still do. But … in light of recent events …” He shrugged and hit his cigarette. “What do I have to lose, right?’

  “You have a point. Anyone else here?”

  “Nope. Just us. Dr. Gale’s flight hasn’t landed yet. We still have a half hour before the rest of the committee arrives. You’re early. Where’s your partner in crime? I thought he’d come with you.”

  Aldar facially grimaced, while his insides churned at the thought of Captain Henning. He had flown with him many times, and Aldar was the first to disagree with the committee’s choice of Henning for the mission. It was too important. While Henning had skills, he just, to Aldar, was unrefined. There weren’t many people that Aldar didn’t like … unfortunately, Henning was one of them.

  <><><><>

  Techno dance music blasted as if it were some sort of party, rather than a photo shoot. But that was just the style of Miles the photographer. Even when a shoot went along with a serious story, he tried to lighten the mood. It just so happened that his current project was taking pictures of the year’s Sexiest Man Alive. So he wanted things to feel upbeat and fun. Miles was the best of the best and was honored to be photographing Captain Curt ‘The Clutch’ Henning. He was a striking and fit young man, a hotshot pilot and astronaut, who gained the nickname ‘The Clutch’ because he had an uncanny streak of saving people and clutching them out of danger. Curt called it luck; he just happened to be in the right place at the right time. Which so happened to be any time danger struck.

  People loved being around him. Not just for Curt’s charm and humor, but they felt safe.

  “If anything happens, hey, The Clutch is here.”

  “Come on, Clutch.” A young female beckoned the tall and striking dark-haired astronaut. “One drink.” She held up a glass to him.

  “As much as I want to …” He winked. “I can’t, ma’am,” he said in his smooth country-boy way. “I have a real important meeting in about thirty minutes. Maybe less.”

  “People, people,” Miles called out. “Can we get this back on track? I want to get the shot in front of the windows before I lose my lighting.”

  The studio was on the thirtieth floor. The windows were from floor to ceiling with a view of Houston like no other. The sky was perfectly blue and the sun was out of the shot.

  He needed The Clutch and the two females to hurry along and get in front of the window. They could enjoy the craft services and drinks after.

  The large studio was packed with assistants, agents, and catering people. All normal for a day on set.

  Clutch moved to the window with the two models. He sipped on a bottle of water. “This is a heck of a view.”

  “I’m sure it’s nothing compared to what you’ve seen up there,” Miles said. “Clutch, could I get you to undo your shirt, please?”

  “Sure.” He shrugged, handing his water off to an assistant, and immediately undoing the buttons on his shirt. Just as he reached the final button a hum filled the air.

  Miles heard and felt it. A vibration that caused a buzz, like a bug had entered his ear. As he registered what was about to unfold, vertigo set in. “Earthquake.” Miles barely got the word out of his mouth before the floor began to shake.

  As expected it caused a panic to those in the room. Not Miles though, he was accustomed to them. The mild quaking was nothing to worry about. In fact, Miles called out, “Stay center of the room, stay calm. It’s fine.”

  And it was, until the shaking grew violent and the roaring it produced became louder.

  Suddenly, those trying to remain calm rushed for the elevators.

  Were they insane? Miles thought and ran to stop them. “Just hold on to something,” he shouted. “Don’t run. Don’t panic. Stay away from the elevators!”

  Crash.

  The first of the windows shattered, and Miles spun around to look. When he did, he watched the red-haired model sail out backwards, arms extended as if she were doing a backwards dive from a springboard.

  The word “No!” crept up his chest, hit his throat, but before he could scream in horror The Clutch lived up to his name. It was almost like he had a keen sense it was going to happen. He reached out, grabbing the red-haired model’s arm, grasping tight as she plunged out, and secured her just as she disappeared from Miles’ sight.

  Clutch was chest flush to the floor, holding on to her with one hand, and with the other he grasped the metal window frame as the building swayed, shook and the windows burst around him.

  Miles was mesmerized, shocked that he had saved her. He knew he had to help, and he would, but first he did what any great photographer would do at that moment: he took a picture.

  The high rise leaned so much, there was a feeling in Miles that it would fall over. It would survive another earthquake, especially this one.

  He raced over to Clutch and, using that same me
tal frame that Clutch held, pressed his foot against it and grabbed on to Clutch’s legs. He could see the model dangling, the look of terror on her face was immeasurable.

  Holding on to those legs, Miles saw it through the corner of his eye, a rolling body. It was Anthony, one of his grips. Anthony rolled fast toward the window. He tried, Miles really tried to pull at Clutch. He reached out to grab him, but the momentum was too great and Anthony sailed out the window.

  The earthquake stopped the second Anthony caught the air of his fall and his screams were heard as he fell to his death.

  The ground may have stopped shaking, but Miles and everyone else knew, it wasn’t over, not by a long shot.

  TWO

  Teaching was the one thing that gave Rey happiness in her life. But even that rarely made her smile. It kept her focused, a reason to get up. She dreaded summer vacation, which was a mere month away.

  It never used to be that way.

  At one point Rey had been full of life. How quickly all that changed when the weather changed. Rey used to joke years earlier that Pennsylvania was the East Coast equivalent of Washington state when it came to the weather. Bright and sunny, then muggy, then rainy for a few days … repeat.

  She had experienced flash floods in her lifetime, but nothing major. Until the great flash flood of her hometown of Canonsburg brought her into a reality she had only seen on the evening news.

  The waters had rushed into town ten months earlier with the freak vengeance of a tsunami, then buried the town in four feet of mud. One hundred and twenty people lost their lives that night. Of those were her mother, father, husband, sister, and six-year-old niece. They were all having dinner that night at her parents’ house when the storm blew in.

  Rey would have been there and died as well, had she not been out with the faculty from school for a ‘last day of school’ outing twenty miles away.