SpaceMan: A Post-Apocalyptic Thriller (The SpaceMan Chronicles Book 1) Read online

  “I-I’m sorry,” he said. “S-sorry. That sounded crass. I know Clayton is up there.” His eyes drifted to the sky as he kept talking. “Just so you know, the ISS does have protection against magnetic storms. Plus its life support and electrical systems have redundancies for their redundancies. I’m sure he’s okay.”

  Jackie licked her lips. “Please keep me posted if you hear any more on the radio, okay?”

  “I’m sure he’s okay,” said Pop, his voice straining. “Even if it’s space weather, he’ll be fine.”

  Jackie put her hands on Pop’s shoulders and then pulled him to her for a hug. “I know,” she said. “Clay is a survivor.”

  Pop’s eyes glistened. She knew Pop didn’t believe what he was saying. “I’ll be back to check on you.”

  She led Marie away from the driveway and heard Nancy scold her husband for his lack of discretion.

  “For a man who’s supposed to be so smart,” she said to Pop, “sometimes you’re a total idiot.”

  Jackie took Marie’s hand and led her further down the street and past the cul-de-sac that ran parallel to theirs. She looked to her right, taking it in as they walked by it. There was a yellowish haze that hung low in the air at the dead end. She could see the backpack still in the street. Jackie swallowed hard.

  “Mom,” Marie asked, letting go of her mother’s hold, “was Mr. Vickers telling you the truth?”

  “About what?”

  “That Dad’s okay.”

  Jackie nodded. “Yes.”

  Marie sucked in a deep breath. “I hope so.”

  “Jackie?” came a woman’s voice from a driveway two houses ahead on the left. “Jackie Shepard, is that you?”

  Standing at the end of her driveway was Rebecca Fulton, a fellow NASA spouse. Her husband, Mark, worked in Mission Control at Johnson Space Center.

  Mission Control.

  Jackie instantly picked up her pace to Rebecca’s driveway. The two women met at the curb and embraced.

  “Oh God,” said Rebecca. “I saw the fire. The flames. Smoke. I didn’t know…I should have… But I didn’t. I’m so glad to see you.”

  “It’s okay,” said Jackie. “We’re okay. We’ve got some others at our house. We’ll be fine. You?”

  Rebecca stepped back from Jackie. She folded her arms, hugging herself. She motioned to the window above the garage with her head. “The kids are upstairs,” she said. “They’re already going stir-crazy.”

  “What about Mark?”

  “He’s stuck at work, I guess,” she said. “I haven’t heard from him yet. He’s got a long-range two-way radio with him he uses when he hunts. I’ve tried him on it. No answer. I’ll keep trying. Mine’s working. I pulled it out of an old Coleman aluminum cooler. It’s about the only electronic thing that isn’t dead. No other radio, no television, no phones, no news.”

  Jackie’s eyes welled again, surprising her. She’d thought she was dry of tears. “If you do talk to him, and he mentions Clay…”

  Rebecca’s brow furrowed sympathetically. “Of course,” she said. “The second I hear anything.”

  “Thanks,” Jackie said. “It’s hard not knowing…”

  “Of course.”

  “I have half a mind to go up to JSC myself.” She laughed.

  Rebecca smiled. “I don’t blame you. I’m worried about Mark and he’s only a couple of miles away. I can only imagine…” Her eyes shifted toward the sky. “If that were my husband…”

  It wasn’t Rebecca’s husband up there. It was Jackie’s. She knew Rebecca couldn’t imagine what it was like. Nobody could. Clayton was in space, one of fewer than six hundred people ever to leave Earth’s atmosphere. She was one of fewer than six hundred spouses to watch their soul mates strap into a tube with an explosive device attached to it and rocket off the planet.

  True, it wasn’t like she was Alan Shepard’s wife, Louise, or Neil Armstrong’s first wife, Janet, or even Annie Glenn, John’s wife. They were true pioneers in every sense of the word. They were badass women with adrenaline-junkie husbands. Still, Jackie was in an elite club and Rebecca had reminded her of her unique, unenviable situation.

  While she appreciated Rebecca’s kindness, she also wanted to scream at her and tell her that her husband being two miles away was in no way, shape, or form comparable to where Clayton was.

  Jackie said goodbye to Rebecca and again took Marie’s hand. “I’ve seen enough,” she said. “We can go back to the house.”

  “We haven’t walked the whole loop, Mom,” Marie protested. “We haven’t seen everything.”

  Jackie was flooded with a confluence of conflicting emotions she didn’t like. She was worried, angry, afraid, resentful. Her husband had left her alone to cope with whatever madness had befallen them. She didn’t like that last emotion. It came from nowhere and felt like acid in an empty stomach.

  “We don’t need to see everything, Marie,” she snipped, looking at the helpless, vacant faces of the neighbors sulking with worry in their driveways and yards.

  Jackie marched home with purpose. She had no real concept of how dire their situation might be even if she believed it to be life-altering. She was certain, though, walking around the block wouldn’t change whatever the truth might be.

  She needed to act as if the end of the world had happened and her husband was never coming home. That was a possibility with which she needed to cope, for which she needed to prepare. No more feeling sorry for herself. It was pointless.

  There were a half dozen people in her home who would depend on her strength to weather the coming days. Her son would be home soon, she hoped. The people under her roof needed a leader. They needed someone who stopped worrying about what had happened or what might happen.

  They needed a badass woman who was married to an adrenaline junkie. That was what they’d get.

  She wasn’t taking crap from Betty, and she wasn’t deferring to Reggie. It was her house. She was in charge. She would lead her crew out of the rabbit hole.

  Jackie marched down her street, Marie in tow, and neared her home. She took deep breaths in through her nostrils as she walked with long, purposeful strides. The dank, nauseating odor returned. The smell of death was as unmistakable as it was rancid.

  Jackie closed her mouth, pressing her lips into a tight, straight line. Instead of trying to avoid the smell, however, she welcomed it. She took it in, recording it with her senses. It would make her tougher.

  She could not avoid what lay in front of her. The more she accepted the reality as she believed it to be, the more prepared she was to survive it.

  SATURDAY, JANUARY 25, 2020, 11:01 AM CST

  CLEAR LAKE, TEXAS

  The household, as it now stood, was gathered around the kitchen’s granite island. Betty and Brian were seated on barstools; Reggie, Lana, Candace, and Marie were standing; Marie was leaning on her elbows, her cheeks smushed in her hands. Reggie was going through the lists of supplies, suggesting how they should ration food and water.

  Jackie wasn’t listening to the conversation. She was thinking about her son, Chris. She’d convinced herself he was safe. He was camping in a familiar place; he was with Rick Walsh, a capable man. Most importantly, he was earthbound.

  The more she thought about him, though, the more an uneasy ache settled in her gut. After hearing others complain about their cars, she’d tried to start hers. It was dead.

  If her car was fried and others in the neighborhood were too, how was Rick going to get Chris home? Were they stuck at the park with only a couple of days’ worth of food?

  She took a deep breath and tried to clear her mind. She couldn’t be the leader she needed to be if she was focused on what she couldn’t control.

  “Jackie,” said Reggie, waving his hand in front of her face. “Jackie?”

  She blinked back to attention. “Sorry. I was just thinking.”

  “We need to talk about self-defense,” Reggie said. “What is our plan?”

  Betty grabbed hold of the
conversation. “If we’re talking about guns, I’m not comfortable with that. It’s an accident waiting to happen. I’ve never been a fan of guns. Nope.” She slammed her hands flat on the granite.

  Brian was rocking in his seat. His arms were folded and he was picking at the dry skin on his elbows.

  Jackie sighed. “I think we are talking about guns, Betty,” she said. “I have my Concealed Handgun License. I’ve got a couple of handguns in the house. Reggie?”

  “I’ve got a rifle and a revolver. They’re in your garage, along with the ammo.”

  Betty pushed herself to her feet. The barstool squeaked along the floor as she stood. “I’m not okay with this. I don’t like the idea of guns in the house. Not with my son here.”

  Jackie bit the inside of her cheek. “I understand your concer—”

  “Do you?” Betty asked, her words dripping with derision. She planted her hands on her hips, her brows arched high above her eyes. “Do you really ‘understand my concerns’?” She made air quotes with her hands.

  Jackie clamped her teeth onto the other side of her cheek. There was no point in poking the bear yet.

  Betty’s face reddened. “You can’t understand my concerns, Jackie,” she said, her arms flailing. “You don’t have a child like Brian. You aren’t raising your kids alone. You didn’t lose your house in a fire last night. You still have your granite countertops and stainless steel refrigerator. You still have window treatments and area rugs. You can’t understand!”

  Brian’s rocking had intensified. “Six days, eight hours,” he chanted, his eyes closed. “Six days, eight hours. Six days, eight hours.”

  Her anger immediately softened and Betty placed her hand on Brian’s back. Tears streamed down her face. “What is it, Brian? Mom is sorry for upsetting you.”

  Brian kept his eyes closed but maintained the steady, even pace of his rocking. “Six days, eight hours.”

  Betty used a fingertip to swab the corners of her eyes. “What is? Tell Mom.”

  “Food and water,” Brian said. “Food and water. Six days, eight hours.”

  Reggie stepped around the counter to Brian. “I calculated we have seven or eight days,” he said. “I added the fresh food, canned food, and bottled water. I’m pretty sure we can last more than a week. If we conserve even more, we can go longer than that.”

  Brian shook his head. “Seven people,” he said. “Seven people. Six days, eight hours.”

  Reggie’s lips moved as he silently recalculated the numbers in his head. Then his eyes grew wide with the recognition he was wrong. “Wow, Brian, you’re right. I only counted six people. I didn’t account for Candace.”

  A strained smile brightened Brian’s face. “Seven people. Seven people. Six days, eight hours.”

  “And when Chris comes home,” Jackie said, “that’s—”

  “Five days, thirteen hours,” Brian said. “Eight people, five days, thirteen hours.”

  Betty laughed through her tears. “Do you see?” she said to the group, her eyes dancing across the room from person to person. “Do you see? He’s not like us. He doesn’t process information the same way. I don’t want guns in the same house as my son.”

  As a mother, Jackie couldn’t imagine the difficulties Betty faced on a daily basis, let alone in the midst of a crisis. Betty was at the breaking point. She was fragile and needed handling with kid gloves.

  Jackie braced herself, knowing that what she was about to say would infuriate Betty and might alienate her from the others. However, it had to be said. This was her house. No matter how unique Brian might be, she had to do what was best for the group.

  “Betty,” she said softly, “I cannot empathize with you or understand the difficulties you face every day. I don’t pretend to know your life.”

  Betty bristled. “I sense a ‘but’ coming.”

  Jackie inhaled through her nostrils, taking a beat before dropping the hammer. She eyed Betty, holding the woman’s sharp glare. “But this is my house.”

  Betty rolled her eyes. “Here we go. I knew this was coming.”

  Jackie maintained her gentle tone. “It’s true, Betty. You are here at my invitation. I am happy to have all of you here as long as you need to stay. You have a place here. All of you. But you’ll need to abide by my rules. If that’s not okay with you, then we can find another place for you to go. I’d rather you not leave. That’s your call.”

  The room was quiet for a moment. There was no immediate dissent. Betty was fidgeting with her fingernails. Brian was sitting still, picking at his elbows.

  “I think that’s fair,” Reggie said, breaking the silence. “It’s more than generous, really.”

  Lana nodded and echoed her husband’s sentiments. Candace agreed.

  “Don’t look at me,” Marie muttered. “I already live under her rules.”

  That elicited chuckles from everyone but Betty and Brian. Betty’s face wore an exaggerated frown, the downward curve of her mouth etched into jowls.

  Jackie stepped around to Betty, placing her hand on her neighbor’s shoulder. “We’re not engaging in a shoot-out in my living room,” she said. “I don’t want that either. I want to defend this house from outsiders who would…”

  “Hurt us,” said Reggie. “We don’t want anyone hurting us.”

  Betty sucked in a deep breath and exhaled. “I don’t have a choice. I really don’t.”

  “Thank you, Betty,” said Jackie, her hand still on Betty’s shoulder. “I’m glad you’re staying.”

  “We should really talk about the guns,” said Reggie. “It’s part of our plan. It may only be another day or two before people start getting desperate.”

  Lana shot Reggie a look. He’d opened the can of worms too quickly.

  Betty pulled away from Jackie and rolled her eyes. “I need some air,” she huffed and marched toward the front door. “I’m allowed outside, aren’t I?” she asked without turning around.

  Jackie didn’t answer. There was no point.

  Betty unlocked the door and swung it open. She shrieked and jumped back at the sight of Rebecca Fulton standing in the doorway, her hand poised and ready to knock. Betty brushed past her without saying anything and bounded out the door.

  “Was it something I said?” Rebecca asked, peeking her head into the house.

  Jackie noticed Rebecca had a radio in her hand. “No,” she said and waved her into the house. “Please, come on in.”

  “I have some news,” she said. “I heard from Mark.”

  Jackie’s heart leapt. Her mouth went dry and she swallowed hard. “And?”

  Rebecca held up the radio. “We only talked for a couple of minutes on the radio, so I only got basics.”

  Jackie’s hands were trembling. “Okay,” she said expectantly.

  Rebecca took a deep breath and then unleashed what she knew. “He said MCC-H lost power. All of their primary systems went down.” Her words were like boulders rolling downhill, accelerating as they spilled forward. “It was chaos in there for hours.”

  Jackie felt the energy sucked from her core. The conversation wasn’t heading where she’d hoped, where she’d initially assumed it would go. The weight grew heavier on her chest. She found it difficult to breathe.

  She managed a question through quick, controlled breaths. She was trying to keep her wits about her. “What are you saying, Rebecca?”

  Rebecca held up her hands in defense. “I’m just telling you what happened. They lost power, but they have backup systems. Mark says its ‘double-redundancy’ or something like that.”

  “So the power’s back on?”

  Rebecca nodded. “Yes. They have all of their critical systems back up. They’re working on communication.”

  The now familiar slug of nausea hit her stomach. “Working on it? What does that mean?”

  “I don’t know exactly,” Rebecca said. “He can’t talk about it. Especially on the radio. He did say they haven’t talked with the ISS since the event.”

&n
bsp; “The event?”

  “That’s what he called it. I know I’m not bringing good news. But it’s news. They are working to reestablish communication. That’s the best I can do.”

  Jackie sighed. She flexed her fingers, trying to stop the trembling. “I know,” she said. “I appreciate it.”

  She stepped to Rebecca and gave her neighbor a hug. It couldn’t have been easy for the woman to come over with what was essentially bad news. It was kind of her.

  Rebecca held onto Jackie and whispered in her ear, “He’ll be fine, Jackie. He will. We’re all praying for him, and the team is doing everything it can. Mark said that.”

  Jackie thanked her again. “If you need anything, let us know. We’re here.” She led Rebecca back to the door and saw her out. She looked to the street and saw Betty standing in the middle of it, staring at what little was left of her house. “I’ll be right back,” she said to Marie.

  Jackie was struggling. She was flexing her will, exuding strength and leadership. She was also crumbling inside. Her thirteen-year-old son was somewhere in North Texas and possibly unable to get home, and she now definitively knew her husband was incommunicado. Nobody on Earth, not a single person, knew if he and the two other men with him were dead or alive.

  She didn’t even know for certain what “the event” was. She suspected Pop Vickers down the street was right. It was a solar storm. Space weather.

  Jackie swallowed past the thought and balled her hands into fists. If she was going to keep it together, she’d have to focus not on her needs, but those of others. The people in her house, every one of them, had to see her attending to them. If they believed she had their best interests in mind, that she would do anything for them, they would do anything for her when the time came.

  She stepped from her driveway and into the street, sidling silently up beside Betty. Betty was crying softly. Jackie could hear the ragged breaths that came with loss. She resisted the urge to put her arm around the woman or offer her any physical comfort, not wanting Betty to sense her own fear.

  She stood next to Betty for more than a half hour. The two of them surveyed the smoldering char together but alone. When Jackie sensed the moment was right, and she’d managed to control her own emotions, she reached out for Betty’s hand. Betty took it and the two women walked back to the house.