The Night of the Aurora

The inky black skies were dotted with white stars that looked like flecks of paint splattered against a high ceiling. Spectators huddled together in tightly packed groups, each member wearing a parka and most hunkered down in sleeping bags suitable for sub-zero temperatures, though the temperatures this night weren't quite that subpar.

Warm breaths fogged visibly against the unusually cold September night. The air was charged with excitement. At any moment, the green lights of the aurora would begin to appear on the horizon and with any luck, move across the skies.

Cameras were set up on tripods to try and capture the phenomenon. Canons or Nikons created a mountainous skyline set at various heights. Some held their cameras, but most were using Androids or iPhones.

Of the device users, most were currently posting or tweeting to various platforms. Some scrolled aimlessly, seemingly unaware of their surroundings or the event about to unfold from the heavens.

Audible camera clicks filled the silence as the fuzzy green and blue lights began to peak over the horizon. Most spectators were oblivious to the light show when suddenly emergency alerts began blaring for those whose phones weren't muted. Confused murmurs grew louder as text messages were read:

Massive earthquake detected. Get to safety immediately!

Confusion turned quickly into mass hysteria as spectators began running toward their respective vehicles. Key fobs were pulled out, their buttons being pressed frantically. The electrical charge in the air prevented the feeble devices from working. Hysterical screams rose from men and women alike. Fists pounded on windows, windshields, and rear windows.

Phones were used as hammers in desperate attempts to break through. Many broke in the process.

As the commotion built, one man sat in a Jeep, far away from the pack, staring down at a computer screen. He laughed gleefully, the sound high pitched and maniacal. He didn't worry about being heard; the commotion masked any noises he made.

The glow of the green lights of the aurora lit up the night sky. The man in the Jeep split his attention between the lights and the mass hysteria between. Both were quite the spectacle.

The man in the Jeep poised his hands over his laptop, then began typing again:

Scientists predict earthquake will reach record-breaking 9.2 on the Richter Scale! Sink holes probable.

The man touched the track pad and guided the mouse to the Send button and clicked. He turned his attention to the throng of people pummeling their vehicles. More text alerts sounded.

Some of the spectators passed out after reading the latest text, their bodies falling heavily onto the cold, dirt packed ground. Other family members huddled around, frantically trying to wake their loved ones. Even strangers abandoned their fears to rally around those who had fallen.

The man threw back his head and laughed. To look at him, one might call him deranged. He laughed until he cried, the tears leaving clean streaks down dirty cheeks.

He dressed in dark tactical gear for this particular occasion, his face painted with dark green, tan, and black war paint. He wore an infantry beret with electrical tape over the insignia.

The temperature outside dropped below freezing, and as voices fell to muted tones, someone pointed toward the man in the Jeep. More heads began to turn, peering at the vehicle in the distance, as the faint sound of an engine running could be heard. Annoyed hushes were aimed at those who tried to talk.

The man in the Jeep kept grinning. He poised fingers over the laptop's keyboard again.

Aurora lights festivities interrupted by technological glitch. There are no earthquakes in this region and haven't been for nearly a century, you fools. Put down your devices and lift up your heads to the world around you.

The man in the Jeep clicked Send then turned off his technology scrambler. Key fobs still being pressed in desperate attempts suddenly worked.

Confusion turned to anger as the man in the Jeep sped away, the large mud tires kicking up dirt and small pebbles.

"Get the license plate!" several yelled in varying commands, though pointless as the Jeep was already a half mile away.

Most of the spectators scrambled to the safety of their vehicles. The bodies littering the ground were dragged into the warmth of running cars and vans. The light show continued on while former spectators drove away, eager to get home.