The light from tonight’s auroras was bright and pulsating, outlining the massive vessel’s form. Out of the water, it looked much taller, not listing as expected but sitting upright almost as if it were properly parked in the port five miles up the coast. Each spectral blast of green revealed more of the ship’s evil presence. A fire on the port side, evidenced by blackened scarring, made it appear that the devil’s own giant hand had reached out from the ship’s bowels, leaving molten prints burned into its hide from the first row of balconies up to the silent chimney stacks. When the pulsating light ebbed, shadowing the ship in a momentary darkness, it almost looked like a normal cruise liner awaiting tourists that would never come. For a ship normally carrying a couple thousand crew and passengers in its belly, there were no signs of life.
“Where are all the people?” Lisa spoke his thoughts.
The Kings shuffled outside to get a better view, unconcerned about sporting only their undergarments. There were others outside as well, on their patios, even the Smiths whose house had burned down next door. All gazed at the silent giant.
Each pulse of the auroras manifested the ship’s malevolence. The ship then seemed to take on a more ethereal profile, like a hologram that appeared to throb with each auroral pulsation or gust of wind. This was more than a reflection of aurora light off the ship… It was conducting electricity.
A scream startled them, tossed about in the wind’s riptides. The shadow of a female form sprang from the void of a doorway, darting along the jogging track located near mid-ship. The shadow raced faster as if chased by something unseen. Another terror-filled scream broke free from the winds. Their eyes followed her as she ran toward the bow of the ship and leaped, choosing death over whatever heinous sprits possessed the liner. When she hit the sand below, she came to rest in a small, dark heap. No more protests or screams.
“My God. She jumped,” Lisa yelped, and galloped off toward the ship.
“Wait, Lisa!” Bill shouted. “Don’t go on the beach!” His words couldn’t stop her. Lisa was going to try to save that woman.
“Lisa, no! The ship … It’s … you’ll be electrocuted!” Bill shouted between each breath as he raced toward her, arms and legs pumping, fearing he wasn’t going to reach her in time.
Another, different scream forced both their heads up, slowing their progress. A second cry of pain then accompanied the first: a hellish duet serenading the evil ship. They saw two others, also attempting to assist the jumper. One appeared to be convulsing, yet fixed in his or her tracks, and the other simply fell over, dead.
Lisa froze, then Bill; now next to each other, both paralyzed by fear.
“It’s the ship! It’s a natural conductor.” He paused to take in several gulps of air. “It induces current from the CMEs hitting us, causing electrical discharges to the water and sand.” He paused again. “My guess is anyone on moist sand will get a nasty jolt of electrical current. Anyone in the water … well, you just saw.” Both Bill and Lisa quickly confirmed they were on dry sand and then looked back at the killing field ahead.
There were others on the beach, all much closer, but all standing still, unsure what to do next.
A bolt of blue-green lightning erupted from the hull and exploded forward, headed inland. Its bright tendrils opened up, reached out, and struck each person near it.
The Kings’ own neuro-electrical currents discharged then. They fled the other way, for home, panic propelling them at an unnatural speed.
2.
Life and Death
“Push, mija,” Maria’s sister said strongly.
Now having been in labor for eight hours, Maria was more exhausted than she had ever been in her life. A multitude of candles splashed light around the room enough so that she could see her husband, Miguel, her sister, Lita, and a cousin whose name floated away just out of reach, in the haze of her tired mind and body. As a midwife Lita had brought dozens of babies into the world, she said, in conditions worse than this. Maria could imagine. After all, they were only without electricity. Thanks to Miguel they had many supplies, while most others around them were not so fortunate.
In the days since Los Diablos Verdes—what everyone in Rocky Point called the green clouds in the sky—had first appeared, many had died or sickened around them. The first few days’ fires burned hundreds of homes and most of the marina area, killing hundreds. Then many more became sick from drinking bad water or having no water at all. Their pipes were silent as were the water trucks and all other vehicles since the power went out. Even with water, many were now starving. The stores had been picked clean days ago. A careful few with small wooden boats were able to get fish from the sea, but countless others died from in the electrified waters. Like stray dogs, neighbors were no longer worried about neighbors; they were concerned about themselves and their own families. Every person was on their own now and each couldn’t depend on others. Yet, their house had all the food and water they needed and more.
Miguel is so smart and knows everything was the one clear thought out of the few that bubbled to the surface of Maria’s watery mind, her chestnut-colored face scrunched in utter concentration, her brow a washboard of wrinkles.
“Push, mija!” Lita yelled this time, afraid the tequila she had given Maria to dull the pain was working too well, pulling her mind toward sleep.
Miguel, on the other side of the emotional scale, was beside himself with anxiety. Maria was bearing their only child in their home rather than at the medical center; their power was off; and their city was dying around them. Max had predicted something bad was going to happen, and he couldn’t have been more correct. Furthermore, Max gave them their supplies. His fear now turned to what would come next, in the coming weeks, when others found out that they had so much food and water.
He knew most of his neighbors, but what about the others? When others found out he had all this, wouldn’t they try to take it? How could they be safe once their baby was born? How could he possibly protect them? He thought about the gun Max gave him, which was hidden from his wife in the closet. Maria, who saw goodness in every soul, would never agree to his having one. Could he even use it if he had to?
“She’s coming, mija. Push!” Lita yelled again.
“¡Ya!” an exhausted Maria retorted.
“Miguel, more towels!” Lita bellowed her midwife orders. He jumped, attempted to move forward, and promptly fell flat on his face, blocking his fall with his hands just in time to keep from breaking his nose or chipping his teeth. Only his pride was bruised. He leapt up, grabbed two towels, and handed them to Lita who hadn’t noticed a thing.
A baby’s cry, raspy from nine months of amniotic fluid, sang out. Hello, world.
Hello, dying world.
3.
Feed My Children
“Where is my damned breakfast?” he shouted.
Thomas, always the first responder to his whims, appeared at his door straightaway and gave it a tentative push before entering. “Sorry Teacher, but the cooks and hotel workers left days ago. It’s only us now. I made you a chicken sandwich,” he said, his voice rising, offering what he hoped would be pleasing. “It’s dry, because we had to toss out all the stuff in the dead refrigerator.” Thomas presented the platter confident at least the chicken in the sandwich was still good. The hotel’s refrigerator had been nothing more than an oversized cooler after the power went out; their attempts to coax a few more days of chill out of it were less effective every time they opened it. Yesterday they had declared the many-thousand-dollar commercial refrigerator officially a dead hunk of metal. Thomas smartly thought to cook all the meats while they still had some bottled gas. But without refrigeration, the mayo and dairy products had gone bad a few days ago and had to be thrown away. More troublesome, though, would be the next few days. That was all the time their group had, based on the remaining cooked meats and canned food, before they would need to scavenge for more food elsewhere or move on. He didn’t even want to think about what the hundreds of followers outside were going to do.