Percy Jarnet, once a man with a normal life, an everyday job, family, friends, hunkered miserably down against against the cold, mossy brick wall of Orson Alley. He could hear the crowds shouting and jeering not a block away, threatening to break through the police barriers set up around the statehouse. The sound blasted from the town square and funnelled down the side streets, engulfing him. His own breath juddered raggedly out of his lungs and his blood thundered in rapid pulses through his ears.
Smoke and fog drifted by, mingled with a legion of smells, mostly foul, but none of any great importance to Percy. Nothing was. Nothing ever could be - not anymore. As darkness began to envelop him, the shouts only roared louder like the sea thundering forward in a furious tempest. He could see people hurtling by - hear their shoes pounding - on either sides of the alley, flashlights, torches, and weapons of all sorts in hands. They all became a blur, the flashing lights stirring a memory.
He was back in his car, driving to his job . . .
***
"It's fifteen after the hour of seven. Mild temperatures are in today's forecast. Seventy-two degrees, partly cloudy, a high of seventy-nine with a light breeze . . ."
Percy took a sipfromhis coffee and placed it back in the cup holder beside his seat. He rubbed his eyes contentedly and rumbled to a stop at 5th and Demers Street, for a red light. A few cars whizzed by as Percy rolled down his window. With one sniff, he was attacked by the variety of smells coming from the small town of Cummingsville. There was Freddie's Bakery opening up down the street, and sweet pastry smells were swept through the air by the light breeze, the smell of fresh paint on Ms. Henrietta's house, a bright red with white trim.
"Looks pretty good," Percy commented to himself, scratching his two-day old stubble and runninghis hand through his sand-colored hair.
He rolled out as the light turned green, cruising past all the familiar buildings in the town. His eyes fluttered shut briefly. Such a good life. He had had the chance to live in the Big Apple years ago, but through a set of circumstances - he gave a quick smile, not circumstances, but rather meeting Mary - he decided to stick around in the small Colorado town.
And he'd ultimately not regretted it. He turned onto Webber's Road, now just a few minutes away from his place of work. He looked in his rearview mirror, seeing Mr. Warren pull behind, right on time. Through the several years they'd worked together, they had quickly - and accidentally - come into a routine, one which was usually ended with Warren arriving just seconds after Percy.
Percy smiled an-
Shoom! Warren's car erupted into an explosive ball of fire. Percy yelled, swerving to one side as a rock the size of a car smashed directly ahead in the middle of the road. It smashed its pointed tip at least a metre into the tarmac - then went up in flames. Percy felt the tips of his hairs singe and his cheeks flush red as he ducked. His car drifted to a stop. Percy was flung roughly against the back of the seat, the seatbelt slashing into his neck and bruising immediately. As his head was catapulted forward, the airbag deployed almost perfectly on cue and saved him .
A thick, soupy cloud of white enveloped him.He coughed, and his head swam blearily. His heart was thumping like a mallet as he groggily undid his seatbelt and stumbled out of the car. His legawobbled like jelly and there was nothing he could do to prevent them giving in. He was sent sprawling to the asphalt,now beginning to melt around the impact of themeteor. That was what it had to be, Percy realized, groaning as he pulled himself up.
He took a quick survey. The town was burning several spots, houses shattered and smashed like matchsticks by the meteors. A piercing, shrieking ring was running through Percy's ears, but he dragged himself ahead, trying to run. The best he could do was jog, his legs unwilling to work any faster.
He choked back a tear as he passed by what he believed was the remnants of Mr. Warren's car. All he could find out of wreckage was a hunk of what was once the trunk, now a distorted hunk of blue metal. He tossed it aside, glancing up at the sky. There was nothing there but blue, soon to be enveloped in the pervading dark grey smoke emitted from the burning rocks from space. He gazed despairingly upwards and was left in a dazed shock as he stumbled over the broken pieces of road and sidewalk. Warren was a good, decent person. Percy heard himself sob as he cursed at the world.
Percy looked across the road and saw Ms. Henrietta's house, still standing despite the fact that only two doors down a house had been almost devastated and was now caught in a raging fire. He dropped to his knees, coughing as the breeze stirred up the smoke. A chest-wracking cough tore out of his throat. For a second all was quiet except for the crackling of the ruined town. Then everyone was alive. People were screaming and shouting, dogs were barking, sirens blaring.
With great effort Percy heaved himself back up to his feet. He spotted a woman tumble out of a nearby house, eyes wide,wrapped in her bed robe. Without a second look Percy was dashing down the road. He turned back onto 5th, darting wildly from side to side to avoid as much wreckage as he could. One man was stepping out of his car.
"Can I use your car, man?"Percy asked, desperate. "I need to check on my family!"
The man stuttered, "S-s-sure, but bring it back!"
Percy was in and roaring away, swerving around burning rocks, debris, crashed cars. And dead bodies. He gagged as he passed one house where the entire top floor had been stripped by the meteor strike. All that remained was a little scrap of white wood from a flower-printed dresser. Percy didn't even try to stop the tears as he pulled onto his home street, passing several demolished homes. They were the homes of his friends - houses he'd eaten dinner in.
"Please be okay, Mary, please." he whispered, afraid to speak too loud as if it may cause more trouble.
He pulled up in front of their small, one-story, brick home. Still intact - other than a few angry grey scrapes from where shrapnel had streaked past the walls. Percy let out a huge sigh, a fresh set of tears welling up in relief. He swung the car door open and crashed through the front door of his house. Holding their three-month old son, Rory, in her hands, stood Mary, tears running down her cheeks. Rory wriggled forward in Mary's arms, reaching desperately for his Dadda.
"Percy. What's going on?" she gasped, her hair disheveled. It took the shape of a large red mane that looked like it had been thrown in a dryer, turned in spin cycle, and then placed on her head.
"I-I-I don't know. It looked like meteors. Look, we need to leave. Now."
Mary gaped at him for a moment then nodded. She stepped forward silently and passed Rory to Percy, then darted back into the house. She emerged moments later with Rory's diaper bag and slung it into the backseat of the car. Percy had already begun fastening Rory into the carseat but Mary shoved him lightly out of the way and deftly clipped the remaining straps into place. Percy couldn't have cared less. He threw open the driver side door and almost dove into the seat.
"Where are we going?" Mary asked breathlessly.
"I don't know - east," he mumbled. Then, spotting the panic in his wife's eyes, he forced confidence into his voice and added, "Somewhere safe. After I give a stranger his car back."
***
From the fringes of the town square, a single piercing shriek that could only have come from the throes of death sliced through his reverie and snapped his attention back to the present. Percy cursed softly. Even the escape from the present had brought only further horrors and memories he would rather erase. He glanced towards the entrance to the alley in the hope of spotting some indicator of which way the tide of the riot was flowing. A figure flitted past and he nearly called out but choked on the word and dropped back behind a recycling bin.
"Hello?" came a croaky call from behind Percy. The figure must have spotted him anyway.
Percy stuck his head round the side of the grimy old bin and spotted a hunched figure shuffling towards him. If the man was police - he was caught with his back to a dead end. If he was one of Percy's fellow rebels - he was caught cowering in a side-street, letting everyone else do the dirty work for him.
"Jarnet, that you?" called the man.
Percy straightened abruptly and peered into the darkness.
"Matthews!" he cried, "Good Lord, you made it!"
Gareth Matthews seemed invigorated by recognition of his friend and colleague and he paced towards Percy with renewed energy.
"Made it?" he raised an eyebrow, "How long you been down here, Percy?"
Percy glanced at the ground and could feel his cheeks reddening rapidly.
"Look, it doesn't matter," Gareth muttered, "All that matters is that we won."
Percy's head snapped back up to meet his friend's eye and he could feel his own eyes bulging in their sockets.
"We won?"
"Hours ago, Percy!" Gareth clapped Percy's shoulder and grinned. "I'm only down here trying to clear out the, um, casualties."
Gareth's grin faded slightly, then he glanced back at Percy and it fell further.
"They're letting us stay," Gareth explained, "We get to keep the quarantined area."
"Then why did you stop smiling?" Percy asked warily, not sure he even wanted to know. Not now. Not when all his worries of the lastseveral months had just been wiped cleanly away.
"Because there is just one condition," he murmured, "We are severed from the United States. We're an independent country - from mid-Kansas all the way to the west coast. We're all alone."
"But what of the remaining Chinese soldiers in the country?" Percy spluttered, "What are we to do with those?"
"You're not hearing me," Gareth insisted, "We're all alone. We are Lone."
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