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  “I’ll do that now.” Judd stood and walked for the phone.

  “Breakfast is good, Mr. Heston.”

  “Thanks, I’ve been …” Judd paused. “Why are you calling me, Mr. Heston?”

  “You wrote the song, said that’s your name. I was calling you mister cause it’s polite.”

  “Oh. Well, you don’t need to call me Mr. Heston.”

  “Isn’t that your name? Why would you tell the world a wrong name?”

  Judd didn’t have a plausible answer. He could tell the boy he was drunk and being an idiot, but he didn’t. “No, I mean, just call me Judd. Everyone does.”

  “So I don’t need to call you Mr. Heston. You said on the song to call you Mr. Heston.”

  “Only when it matters. For now, call me Judd.”

  “When does it matter?”

  “Um …” Judd stumbled for an answer and blurted out. “Let me think on that one.”

  “Where’s your guitar?”

  “It’s in the car. I left it there. It’s not far, I just wanted to get here.” He took his phone from the charger and sat back down at the table.

  The boy had a point. Judd needed to search for answers. What happened, what could cause it, was it only America, or was it all over the world? Plausible explanations could be found in the news or some science article. However, to discover the scope of the event, he had to rely on witnesses. There had to be others... The world revolved around the internet. It was still up for the time being. If he himself posted, someone else may have, too. He just had to look. Judd did just that while he sat with Dawson eating their breakfast.

  SEVEN – RELUCTANT

  The sound of nothing and smell of coffee caused Morgan to open her eyes. At first she thought she was late for work. She probably slept through the alarm clock and the auto brew on her coffee pot had long since made its pot.

  ‘Shit’, she thought. “I can’t be late again. I’ll get fired.”

  As soon as she jumped to a sitting position, a pain like she never felt cut through her side and she gasped hard, trying to catch her breath.

  Her head throbbed and her forehead burned and felt tight, as did her cheeks and nose. She reached up to her head and felt a bandage. She pulled away her fingers and stared at her hand. It was bruised and brush burned. Then she remembered, the car accident. It all came back to her. The crash, the near death experience.

  She was injured, from the feel of her body, she took quite a jolt. But where was the noise of the hospital? The beeping, the occasional paging of a doctor. She checked out both arms, where was the IV?

  Then she took in her surroundings. She wasn’t in a bed, she was on a leather couch, a hard-brown blanket covered her. Forcing beyond the pain, she sat up more. There were chairs, a coffee table and a huge reception desk.

  Something wasn’t right. She remembered being rescued, pulled from the car. Why wasn’t she in a hospital?

  Who would do this to her? Had some sick, psycho kidnapped her?

  Through the corner of her eye she spotted her purse on the coffee table. It hurt her ribs when she moved her legs, surely at least one rib was broken. The pain was horrendous.

  She managed to place her feet on the floor, then while securing her ribs, she reached for her purse. It hurt to reach, she inched her rear to the edge of the couch, grasping the strap. The weight of the purse pulled at her and she cringed hard in pain.

  She lifted it to the couch and reached inside, feeling around until she felt her phone.

  The screen was cracked, yet she was able to wake it from sleep mode.

  She looked around, no one was there that she could see. Morgan could run, make an escape, the front door with a closed blind, was ten feet away, but she couldn’t move. At least not fast enough, not in her condition. She selected the call pad and dialed 911.

  What would she tell them?

  ‘Hello, I was in a car accident. I think it was a couple hours ago and I have been kidnapped. I don’t know where I am.’

  It sounded insane but it was the truth. She hit the ‘send’ button to call 911.

  It rang.

  It kept on ringing and finally after twenty rings a recording answered informing her to hold.

  “What?” she asked, breathless and in disbelief. She ended that call and immediately called Craig. That was the first person she could think to call. His phone went directly to voice mail.

  “Craig,” she gushed emotionally. “It’s me. I need your help. This is not a ploy. I was in an accident. Someone …” she looked up when the front door opened.

  The man was a mere shadow with the sun behind him, then he stepped inside.

  “Hey, you’re up,” he said. “That’s a good sign. I’m glad.” He removed a cloth from his face, and with him was some sort of odor she could smell as he came closer. She didn't recognize it though.

  Then she got a look at him and the police uniform.

  He was still wearing it, but had the shirt unbuttoned, exposing a white tee shirt.

  “I made coffee. Electricity is still on. Did you want a cup? Are you up for drinking it, or would you prefer water?” he asked.

  Morgan didn’t answer, she scooted back on the couch and brought her hand to her mouth. “What is that smell?”

  “Something that can’t be avoided. Let me get you coffee.” He walked by her and into the back of the building.

  Morgan immediately dialed the phone again, she’d go through her contacts if she had to.

  “I was trying to find a boat, but that was out. Trying to find some way out of the city,” he said from the back. “I think I found a clear path. We may have to switch cars every …” he stopped talking when he returned. He handed her the coffee cup, which Morgan didn’t take. “That isn’t going to work.” He took the phone. “No one is there.”

  “I’m calling for help.”

  “Won’t work.”

  “Take the coffee.” He set it on the table. “How are you feeling? How is your head?” he reached for her.

  She jumped back. “Please. Let me go. Don’t hurt me and I won’t tell a soul.”

  He laughed at her, a soft chuckle. “Morgan, I am not …”

  “How do you know my name?”

  “Your license.”

  “Why am I here?” Morgan asked. Her heart raced out of control. “Why am I not in a hospital or home?”

  “Yesterday when …”

  “Yesterday?” Morgan asked in shock.

  “Oh wow,” he said softly. “Shit, I figured you knew, or remembered.”

  Morgan shook her head.

  “Morgan, what’s the last thing you remember before you crashed the car.”

  Morgan closed her eyes to think, it took a while. “I was fighting with my husband. I …. had an anxiety attack or something and I crashed. I crashed because I had an anxiety attack.”

  “Anxiety attack. Describe it,” he said.

  “My throat closed up. I don’t know … I couldn’t breathe, that’s all I remember, then the crash.”

  “So like me, it affected you. I just can’t figure out why we pulled through.”

  “What are you talking about?” Morgan asked. “What does all this have to do with me being here with you, Officer…?”

  “Ross. Call me Ross.” He reached out his hand.

  “Don’t touch me.” Morgan panicked.

  “Morgan, I swear to almighty God I am not here to hurt you. I may be the only person right now you have. Can you walk?”

  Suddenly, Morgan got an eerie feeling. “What’s going on?”

  “You didn’t cause your crash, Morgan. I can tell you … but I think you need to see.” He still extended his hand. “Please.”

  Reluctantly, Morgan took it and he helped her to stand. “What hurts?” he asked.

  “Everything.”

  “You’ll have that when you get smashed by several cars.” Holding on to her arm, Ross helped her to the door. “Listen.” He paused before pulling open the door. “You need to hold
your breath, or cover your nose, okay? It’s bad and it has just started.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Hold your breath,” he instructed and opened the door.

  She didn’t. She should have.

  A horrible stench pummeled her, like rotting fish in the fridge mixed with a burning scent, it made her eyes water and she covered her nose and mouth when she started to gag.

  “It’ll get worse.”

  Once she got a hold of her senses, Morgan looked around.

  Every single car had crashed in one way or another, some into each other, some into buildings. There was a thick haze in the air that looked like smoke. Her eyes widened and watered. “Oh my God. Were we attacked?”

  Ross shook his head. “No. It’s bigger than that. Much bigger.”

  “What happened?”

  “I don’t know exactly. Still trying to figure it out. But I have a feeling, all this …” he said, moving his hand about, pointing to the death. “Is just the beginning.”

  EIGHT – CONNECT

  The website was informative, and after downloading ‘How to Survive the Apocalypse, by Frank Slagel’ Judd began the task of printing up the book. Dawson grabbed him a three ring binder from his father’s office, then went off to find his shoes.

  Judd remembered the days of being a kid and losing his shoes, but as an adult, he never understood how that was possible.

  How does a person lose their shoes in their own house?

  Dawson’s search gave Judd time to explore his mother’s computer. It was easier to search on a desktop than his phone. But no new news had posted on social media, there hadn’t been a new post in over twenty-four hours, and even his 'Call Me Mr. Heston' video only had three views.

  The search for others out there was difficult, Judd knew they had to be there. Him and Dawson weren’t, and couldn’t be, the only ones.

  Aside from printing up that book, he was productive in other ways. A simple snoop job through his mother’s desk led him to his father’s business card. If the information was up to date, Bill Dawson Montgomery worked as an assistant branch manager at a bank not far from Dawson’s house.

  His mother Rita, Judd learned was a visual arts teacher at the local high school. She also had an email in her draft folder writing to some child psychologist about how special Dawson was. She never finished and Judd guessed he’d eventually figure out what that ‘special’ thing meant, since Dawson and him were now survival partners.

  Judd mapped the route out to find Dawson’s folks. In fact, he abandoned the car not far from the bank.

  That was as far as he planned, he and Dawson hadn’t talked much about what was beyond searching out his parents. He supposed they had time to talk about it later. Judd also needed time to study the survival guide.

  He tried again on social media, this time trying keywords and selecting all posts. He went to the Bird site and searched chirps and tried there. Judd tackled every combination of words he could think of from ‘Everyone is dead’ to ‘Is anyone alive’.

  Nothing.

  “Hey, Dawson, you find your shoes yet?” Judd called out. Not that he was in a hurry to take the child to find his parents. While there was a chance his parents lived, Judd doubted it and hoped that he could get Dawson to change his mind before he was face to face, literally, with the truth.

  “Found them. Be right down.” He yelled from upstairs.

  “Take your time,” Judd replied. He turned to check the printer, and grabbed some of the pages.

  “I’m ready.” Dawson announced as he entered his mother’s office.

  “Just getting these together.”

  “We’re coming back, right?” Dawson asked. “I’m sure my mom just needs someone to help her get home. You said cars were all over the place.”

  “They are and we will. We’ll come back.” Judd set the papers aside. ‘Dawson, are you sure this is something you want to do?”

  “I need to find my mom and dad. I have to.”

  Judd nodded. More than anything he wanted to tell the child, ‘you know it may not end well, you know chances are….’ He couldn’t bring himself to say it. He’d cross the bridge when he got there.

  “Wouldn’t you want to find your parents?” Dawson asked.

  He had a point. Didn’t matter if a person was eight or thirty-eight, if Judd’s parents were out there, he too would need to see for himself what became of them.

  “You’re right,” Judd said. “Okay, let’s …” he stopped and looked at the screen.

  “What?” Dawson asked. “What is it?”

  “Oh my God.”

  “What?”

  The search result page of the Bird site was up, but now when Judd looked an orange banner stated, ‘One new chirp’.

  “Shit, someone just chirped. It matched my query.”

  “It matched your what?” Dawson asked.

  “I put in search words, some posted something just now that matched it.”

  “What does it say?”

  Judd moved the mouse to click on it, but stopped. “Shoot. What if it’s a scheduled chirp? I do those all the time. We can’t get our hopes up.”

  “We can’t know until you look. What’s it say?”

  Judd clicked on it. It was timestamped one minute earlier. Posted by a user name Ray of Sunshine. It simply said, “Is anyone else alive out there?”

  When they read it, both of them cheered with excitement. Judd didn’t know where Ray of Sunshine was and he didn’t even bother to look. He simply, without hesitation, replied ‘Yes’, and sat back with Dawson right at his side and waited to hear back.

  NINE – ANSWERS ARE NIL

  “And that’s it,” Ross explained. “Since I brought you in here, I spent the last twenty-four hours searching for survivors, calling out, trying to find a way out of the city. We need to get out of here. You think it smells bad now, wait until later.”

  “I don’t know how well I’ll be able to walk.”

  “Unfortunately, you’re gonna have to. At least until after the bridge. This thing hit in the middle of the day.”

  “This is unreal. I’m in shock, and that …” Morgan cringed. “That came out really emotionless.”

  “It’s hard to feel anything. I know, I'm just not wanting to think too much about it. However, I’m one of those people who can’t let sleeping dogs lie. I got to figure out what’s going on. Do you have family? I’m taking it you don’t have children?”

  “No.” Morgan shook her head. “No kids. I had my husband, but he left me.”

  “Don’t have that to worry about anymore.”

  “Seems very small now in light of this all. How about you?” Morgan asked. “Family?”

  “A whole slew. Parents, siblings, a beautiful wife and …” Ross paused, he swallowed. “Two girls. I need to get to my house. I live about four miles from here. At Greenfield.”

  “Ross, why didn’t you go?” she asked. “You should have gone. You could have walked.”

  “Yeah, I could have.” He lowered his head. “I’ve seen what’s out there. If my family is alive, then they’re fine and they’re staying put. But if God forbid they aren’t, and I left you here, I left the one person I knew for sure was alive. I didn’t know if you were well enough to leave. I couldn’t let you die when you were lucky enough to be alive.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me, yet. I’m thinking by tomorrow, you should be strong enough to start walking.”

  “I can try now if you want.”

  “No, let’s give you a little more time to get better. Besides, a part of me is scared to go to my house and see.” He stood up. “I know we can’t wait. Fires are out of control out there. My guess is people were cooking, stoves were on, and no one was there to shut them off. This place will keep burning.”

  “The electricity still works. Did you check the internet?”

  “Oh, yeah, been off and on it all night. I found an interesting article. Small new
s piece, seems contact was lost with the Marshall Islands almost a full day before everything happened here.”

  “What do you mean contact was lost?” Morgan asked.

  “Didn’t say much, just that had no response from air traffic, or phone lines. All planes were cancelled. I guess it hit everywhere before Marshall Islands could become big news.”

  “So do you think this hit there first?”

  “It’s a guess. Just a guess. If this is a natural event and not manmade, then it very easily could have followed the earth’s rotation. Marshall Islands is in the first time zone. Again…” he walked over to the receptionist’s desk. “I’m guessing. Everything is theory.”

  “Well, then give me your theory on what’s happening. You said earlier it was just the beginning.”

  “I think it is. I want to research more before we lose everything on line. It could be anything, Morgan,” Ross said. “An atmospheric blip, something from space, who knows. More or less I’m gonna call it the Swifter event.”

  Morgan’s mouth formed an ‘O’ as she started to speak, but paused to catch her wording. “I’m sorry. Maybe it’s the head injury. You said ‘Swifter’, I think the cleaning mop.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I mean. Ever see the commercials?” Ross asked. “Pretty anal person about their house broom sweeps the floor, ding dong, here’s a box with a new mop with a white cloth, gets everything you missed?”

  Morgan nodded.

  “Think of natural disasters, disease, war, that’s fate broom sweeping. Ding dong, a box was just dropped off and Mother Nature is pulling out the Swifter. The choke and drop thing was the first swoosh.”

  Even though it physically hurt her, Morgan chuckled. “You know they work, but they still miss particles and push them to the sides.”

  “Yep. That's part of my theory, we’re the pushed aside particles. However, eventually with another swoop, she’ll get it all.”

  “If every dropping was the first swoosh, I hate to think what the next will be. I appreciate your theories, but I really hope your wrong.”

  “Yeah,” he said. “Me too.”