The Meteor Conspiracy

I was fourteen when the meteors hit Earth. We didn't have much warning, mere days to figure out a way to preserve the survival of humanity. Unfortunately, most people didn't make it, lost to the fires and the ash that culminated in the atmosphere. My dad, a military man, gained our family access to an underground shelter made for cataclysmic events. He brought my mom, my younger brother, and me with him. My mom died shortly after, the lethal fumes having settled in her lungs beyond hope of recovery. I am now seventeen, still living in the shelter with a mixture of politicians and military members.

I idly finger the heart-shaped locket around my neck. My mom had gotten it from her mother, and on her deathbed, she passed it on to me. I wear it even when I sleep. It's the anniversary of the meteors impacting Earth, so thoughts of my mom are heavy on my mind today. I'm waiting for the tram to pick my brother – Aaron – and me up from our classes.

Education was a difficult thing to sort out at first, as not many of those who had gotten into the shelter were educators. They mostly focused on skill training, preparing us for jobs in the shelter. Aaron was going to be an electrician, and I was going to work in agriculture. We could grow limited crops underground with artificial sunlight, and the livestock needed tending to. There weren't many options.

"Do you think we'll ever be able to go back to the surface?" Aaron's voice breaks me out of my thoughts. I look up at him; he's younger than me by a couple of years, but by now, he's taller by a head.

"Depends on if the atmosphere goes back to normal."

He seems dissatisfied with my answer, frowning at me. "It has to, doesn't it?"

I shrug. I'm not really in a talkative mood. He lets it drop with a sigh, and I keep my hand rested on the locket against my chest.

The tram comes into sight around a corner, the yellow light on top flashing. The conductor stops at our platform, and we get in, taking seats near the front. The only other people on the tram right now are two of the political officials, talking quietly with one another closer to the back.

I'm content to wait out the ride and go home to rest, ignoring my surroundings entirely. But I catch some of the other passengers' conversation, piquing my curiosity.

"Ms. Anderson insists that we can't let this information slip out. The public cannot know a peep about it," the woman is whispering fervently.

The man, with a wary glance about them, answers, "But you're sure that's what she meant – that it was an inside job? I mean, the implications – "

"Hush!" the woman cuts him off with a pointed look in our direction. In a smaller voice, she goes on to say, "Yes. Ms. Anderson is responsible, and you must not speak of this to anyone."

They stop talking, and I look over my shoulder at them. My eyes lock with the woman's briefly before she turns her head away from me. I face forward again, confused. Ms. Anderson – that's our elected leader. She had been in politics on the surface, part of the group that had initially informed the public of the meteor catastrophe heading toward Earth.

When we reach my stop, the two officials stand at the same time as Aaron and me to get off of the tram. I let them get off first, carefully watching them from behind. Their hushed conversation has made me suspicious, and a bad feeling has settled in my chest. They quickly start to walk toward the Aerospace Terminal, where the conditions of Earth's atmosphere are monitored until the day we can return to the surface.

I don't always listen to my gut. More often than not, I seem to find myself regretting ignoring it. So this time, when a strange feeling tells me to follow them, I turn to Aaron.

"I'll be home soon," I tell him, turning away again with no further explanation.

"Wait, where are you going?" he asks, but I ignore him, already losing sight of my quarry. "Lily!"

I follow the officials from far behind, sticking to the shadows and trying to stay silent. They use key cards to open a sliding door and disappear inside. I rush forward, trying to slip inside behind them before it closes, but when I'm still several feet away it slides shut again. At a loss, I stand at the door, frustration welling up inside of me. A hand suddenly catches my shoulder.

"Lily," Aaron says firmly, spinning me around to face him.

I slap his hand away. "Don't do that! You scared me."

His eyes wander to the door. "Why were you following them?"

"Didn't you hear them on the tram?" I ask.

He shakes his head. "What did they say?"

"They said something is Ms. Anderson's fault. They said the public can't know," I reply, looking earnestly at him.

Aaron meets my eyes skeptically. "So you followed them?"

"Aaron," I say impatiently. "What if it has something to do with the meteors? Ms. Anderson is our leader. What if it's her fault they hit Earth?"

"You sound crazy," Aaron scoffs. "It's probably some political mumbo-jumbo that doesn't even matter. You know how they are."

"No," I insist, starting to get angry. "She's hiding something, and I think it's important!"

A new voice interrupts our heated conversation. "You're right. It is important."

We both face the newcomer, startled. A cold feeling washes over me as my eyes find none other than Ms. Judy Anderson watching us with narrowed eyes. Without thinking, my right hand reaches up to clasp the locket around my neck. It happens a lot when I'm nervous.

Ms. Anderson is wearing a dark pencil skirt and a white button-up blouse with a dark jacket. Her arms are crossed in front of her, her displeasure at finding us here quite clear.

Once again, I listen to my gut.

"It's your fault," I accuse her. "You did this!"

Aaron gives me a sideways glance. "Lily, stop."

Ms. Anderson's lips are thin. "You should listen to him," she advises, stepping closer.

"No," I say. Years of repressed anger and hopelessness bubble to my surface, from being trapped underground, from losing my mom. Feeling like there's someone to blame gives me strength that I didn't know I had, and I ride the wave of newfound power. "You ruined everything."

In one fluid movement, one of Ms. Anderson's hands reaches into her jacket and pulls out a revolver. She flourishes it, giving me a fake smile. "It wasn't on purpose, you know," she says quietly. "We were experimenting on gravity fields light years away. One of our calculations was wrong, and it catapulted a group of meteors toward us."

Aaron's jaw drops. "You mean it really was your fault?"

Ms. Anderson's smile disappears. "That's why I had to be elected down here. That mistake won't happen again. We will return to the surface. Well, most of us."

She levels the revolver at me, her arms outstretched. I find myself staring down the barrel of a gun. My throat dry, I just helplessly blink at her.

Aaron's arms come up into the air in a surrender. "Don't shoot us," he quickly pleads. "We'll forget all about it, we'll leave."

"It's too late for that," Ms. Anderson says. "It's a shame, but I will not lose what I have because of two nosy children."

There's an explosion, a brief flash of pain, and then… nothing.