Rockets Red Glare

The asteroid wasn’t supposed to come this close to Earth. Scientists predicted a beautiful showing on a darkened, moonless night but it wasn’t beautiful. It was horrifying.

Engineers and physicists from every corner of the globe came together a year before the rock was supposed to gracefully pass by us. They noticed a troubling wobble in its trajectory and an immediate group was convened to handle the situation as delicately as possible.

The decision was made to send up the largest spacecraft ever built with the intention of passing very close to the massive rock, causing it to be offset by the gravity of the spacecraft and changing its course. Pure and patriotic cheers could be heard across the world as it shot into space. Days turned to weeks as the ship navigated the stars and flew towards the asteroid.

The shift didn’t work. The backup plan was even more dangerous, but a necessary evil. Five massive nuclear devices were shot towards the asteroid and it exploded in a ball of yellow fire.

Every human alive cheered and screamed as the speckles of dust that was once a space rock the size of Texas was obliterated.

For months, pieces of the asteroid tumbled through our atmosphere and all hell began to break loose. What we didn’t know was that on that rock was some sort of pathogen, an alien like bacteria, dormant in the frozen vacuum of space but violently forced awake from the blasting of the nukes. Superheated and now airborne within our atmosphere, they trickled down to Earth.

The symptoms were mild, similar to a common cold, except there was no fever, only lethargy. Patients became quickly exhausted, from even the mildest exertions.

The first ones to succumb were the very young, the very old, and anyone in a vegetative state. But their deaths were not peaceful. The bacteria caused a horrific sleep paralysis that made the dreamer believe they were possessed. Most people’s hearts gave out from fear, some broke their own jaws trying to scream themselves awake, and the worst unlucky few dreamt they were being chased and would throw themselves from open windows to their deaths.

Pathologists worked endlessly to find a cure, but most of them were claimed by the very sickness they were trying to solve. They wanted to analyze the bacteria, to see if they could reverse engineer the illness and find its antidote, but once the host was dead, the pathogen died along with it.

Sleep could only occur for about an hour at a time; any more than that and humans ran the risk of entering the REM cycle which allowed the paralysis to start.

Within six months, half of the Earth’s population had been eradicated, either by the bacteria or by their own hand. It wasn’t uncommon to see people frozen in a sleep state all over the place, their faces contorted in terror, many gasping for air, mouthing words to try to rouse them from sleep. Bodies were everywhere: in their cars, along the sidewalks, some were even found along the state park trails; the scenes were too horrific for even the local wildlife to approach.

One thing scientists did manage to work out about the pathogen was that it couldn’t survive in frigid climates: anywhere the average outdoor temperature stayed at around zero degrees Celsius. Those that were able to travel north did so, but few survived the trip. Caravans of people were constantly ambushed; the attackers sought out drugs to help them stay awake.

The handful of survivors on the North American continent reached what we guessed was close the Aleutian Islands, just off the coast of Alaska and set up camp. I was among them. Along the journey I had tried to save my family members, but we were so scattered across the map that it was impossible. I could not even save one of my children; I had to bury my daughter in a field in the middle of what I assumed was Nebraska.

There are only about 70 of us left, but those who are with me are strong. We rotate our sleep schedules, no more than one hour and no more than ten of us are asleep at one time. Half the camp roves for interlopers while the other half builds and forages for food. We stole as much as we could carry. Some days my pack felt like it weighed 100 pounds but we made it.

I don’t know how many other countries survived. The last I heard, any country directly on the equator was hit first and hit hard, decimating towns and villages almost overnight. I’d never experienced such vicious panic before in my life, watching the deadly bacteria’s effect unfold on every media outlet. When my children and I made it to my family’s homestead in Minnesota I prayed there would be life, but all I found were bodies. We couldn’t stay long so we performed a routine so familiar that it felt like a ritual: find food, gather supplies, and keep moving.

I am so tired. Every day is a struggle. It is even worse now that we are in the Arctic Circle, the sun never seems to shine. A boon to keep the bacteria at bay, but hell on the senses. We lost about a quarter of our crew within the first couple weeks to hallucinations and hypothermia. Ironic, I suppose: the only thing that can kill the pathogen is also terribly destructive to the human body.

I cannot feel my toes anymore, I just want to feel the sun on my face. I have eaten more fish in the last few months than I’ve ever eaten in my entire life. And I absolutely detest fish. I always wonder what purpose we serve by staying alive? Can we rebuild? Can we outlast the pathogen? Will it consume every living thing on this planet until it becomes its own destroyer? Only time will tell.

*click*

The voice recorder is silent now. He puts down the device, opens his mini waterproof safe and places it inside, right next to the heart shaped locket he removed from the neck of his beloved grandmother. His thumb brushes gently against the golden locket, the one she wore every day, a gift from his grandfather when he returned from war.

He doesn’t know why he continues to add to the message, but it gives him a release from the monotony of survival mode, even for a few moments. Selfishly he knows that maybe one day this will all seem like a horrible dream, and he can tell his grandchildren about how he and a handful of steadfast and strong people rebuilt after the near extinction of the human race.

He heaves a heavy sigh as he locks the small box, tucks it back into his jacket, and stands up for his shift on watch. Looking to the sky, the beautiful lights of the aurora borealis gleam and trickle across the night. It’s a magical sight; usually they are just a deep emerald green but tonight they are infused with a magnificent red. The lights swirl like ribbon candy, blocking out the stars, and reflecting in his eyes.

His hand comes up to his heart and his breath is taken away by the spectacle that dances overhead. He doesn’t feel the shaking under his feet at first, it whispers under him. But it does it again; only this time it shifts the snow and makes it ripple across the camp.

Someone shouts and he looks towards the threadbare tents that block the arctic wind. They are still and only waver when the next quake hits. He turns his eyes back to the sky and now the lights are fiercely red, almost the color of...

“FIRE!!”

The earth pitches violently, causing everyone standing to be thrown to the snowy ground. Bursts of bright orange light blast into the sky at the horizon. Cracks begin to form as the quake grows more savage, swallowing the campers in large gulps.

He races towards his children but they are gone. He can hear the buzzing of rocks falling around him; they sizzle when they hit the snow. It’s not just a fire. Fire cannot make the earth move, it has to be something worse.

“Volcano,” he mutters under his breath as the sea belches forth a massive plume of suffocating ash and ferocious lava. The final quake rips apart the tiny patch of land they remain on and sends him crashing into the jet black water below.

At first terrified, he realizes he cannot possibly swim to the surface; his heavy clothing dragging him down. He reaches into his jacket, wraps his hand around the tiny safe, clutches it to his chest, and smiles. Now he can rest.