WHEN HE FINALLY stopped paddling, the only sounds Keith could hear were the rushing pound of his own heartbeat, and the screaming of the cicadas. He could no longer scream with them. Exertion had stolen his voice over an hour ago. He’d been paddling for so long that his tears had dried on his face.
He was in a bay, an unfamiliar one. Just how far had he come? His arms ached, hanging from his shoulders like leaden weights. His hands were cramped, and patches of skin had been rubbed raw. Balancing the paddle across the kayak, he dipped his fingers into the water on either side. It was blessedly cool, and he relished the feeling as it crawled up to his wrists.
There was no one else around. In the lull of the cicada songs, there were only birds. No voices, no splashing. Had no one else escaped? Or had they just gone another way?
Keith had no idea where he was. He hadn’t been paying attention; all he’d been able to do was flee. His memories were a wash of white noise, his body having driven itself onward entirely on instinct.
I’m alone, Keith realized. It didn’t shock him, he was too drained for such a strong reaction, he merely accepted the fact.
For months, he’d expected to find himself on his own. Despite his supposed mental preparations, he now stalled, unsure what to do next.
Take an inventory, he decided. Before figuring out his next step, he should see what he had to work with.
The kayak was the most important thing. About eight and a half feet long, maybe two feet wide, the bright green plastic boat had saved his life. On either end were black plastic pull handles attached by short ropes, and, closer, a stretchy sort of bungee rope for holding items down; the length of this at the rear was over a depression for holding larger items, but that was currently empty. Behind the rear pull handle was a black plug for draining, which Keith hoped he’d never have to use. Inside the nose of the kayak, two rails ran along either side for the adjustable footrests. The backrest of his otherwise moulded seat was also adjustable: a flexible bit of black plastic wrapped in a padded fabric. He could change the amount of give by using the straps that threaded through the buckles just ahead of his body on either side. The only other thing built into the kayak was the seat’s moulded cup holder between his legs.
The second most important item he possessed was his paddle. The fifty-inch body was aluminum with a black coating, and at either end was a nineteen-inch white plastic paddle. There were little rubber rings near the paddle heads, but no one had ever told Keith what they were for. In the middle of the paddle, the aluminum could be taken apart using a simple button connector to make two pieces. The six holes the button could latch into would allow him to change the overall length by about two inches, or the angle of the paddle blades to one another. The fact that the paddle could come apart made nighttime storage easier.
some shade, but first he wanted to finish his inventory.
Tucked into the nose of the kayak was a blue and yellow lifejacket. As a strong swimmer, Keith thought it wouldn’t be very useful, but he might be able to hold it above his head to keep some of the sun off.
Reaching his hands under the seat, he found two plastic pillars supporting the front edge. He pushed deeper under the seat between them, where the tips of his fingers brushed against an unexpected obstacle. He thought he’d find nothing, but there was something made of a hard, smooth plastic, different from the boat. He couldn’t get a grip on it.
“I need to be in a better position,” he told himself. His voice rasped, still sore from his earlier screaming.
After balancing the paddle behind him, Keith pulled his legs up out of the kayak and hung them over the side. He twisted sideways, crunching his body as he attempted to get his arm farther under the seat. With his face mashed into the plastic rim of the seat opening, Keith was able to grab the object. When he pulled, however, it snagged against the pillars. The kayak rocked precariously from his efforts, one of his feet dipping into the lake.
“Fuck!” Keith cried out, trying to steady himself.
He abandoned the object, as keeping the kayak from tilting so much that it filled with water was far more important. There was a rumble through the plastic as the paddle slid off the back into the lake.
“No, no, no, no, no!” Keith nearly threw himself into the water as he lunged to grab his only means of propulsion. The kayak wobbled again, but this time he could see it happen. The craft was more stable than it felt, the water not getting nearly as close to the lip as he had thought.
Clutching the paddle to his chest and taking several deep breaths, Keith attempted to calm himself. If the kayak sank, he would almost certainly die. He needed to be more careful.
This time, he tucked the paddle under the bungee cords on the nose. Before twisting about again, he checked to see if he could reach the object from a normal sitting position, since he had managed to pull it forward. Turned out he could, and he was grateful. The thing wasn’t meant to go under the seat, and he couldn’t get it to squeeze between the pillars. Probing with his fingers, he determined it was a small bucket with a lid. He untwisted the solid lid, which was lined with finger deep ridges and was at least an inch wider than the bucket. Once that was off, he could squish the bucket a little and finally pry the thing free.
A boat safety kit. The bright orange, eight inch long plastic container could be used as a bailing bucket, and inside the lid was a reflective surface for flashing signals. That would probably be more useful than the waterproof flashlight: Keith discovered that no one had bothered to put any batteries in it.
There was also a pea-less whistle, and a fifty-foot length of yellow tow rope that had a clip on one end and a plastic floater on the other.
Worth the struggle, Keith thought as he panted.
That was it for the kayak. Everything else he had was on his person: a grey T-shirt, now sweat-stained, and a pair of blue swim trunks. On his wrist, he wore his dad’s watch. It couldn’t tell the time anymore, but it was all he had left of the man. He shoved those thoughts away, just as he did that morning’s memories. He had gotten good at hiding things from himself.
While taking this inventory, Keith had drifted. He was still at least twenty feet from shore, but that was more than close enough to hear the low, rumbling growl.
He whipped his head around toward the source of the sound, and there it was. A fucking dirt devil. The reason Keith, and everyone else, hadn’t been able to safely set foot on dry land for the past year.
“BEDTIME,” DAD TOLD KEITH, his head stuck in through the open bedroom door.
“What? I thought I got to stay up to watch.”
Dad snorted when he laughed. “You thought that, did you? Not on a school night.”
“Everyone I know is going to watch.”
“Yeah, on YouTube in the morning, just like you will be. Watching it live will only make you tired, and it’s a school night. Maybe if it were the weekend I’d help you win over Mom, but it’s not, so bed.”
Keith grumbled and moaned. He was sixteen, why did he even still have a bedtime?
“Turn that off,” Dad gestured to his laptop. “Teeth, pajamas, under the covers. You get caught trying to watch, and it’ll be no more electronics in your bedroom.”
“Dad.”
“Hey, I didn’t make the rule. Take it up with your mother if you disagree. Now let’s go, into bed, hustle, hustle, hustle.” He clapped like he was still coaching Keith’s Timbits Soccer team.
Keith just rolled his eyes. He knew he still had an hour before lights out, there was no reason to rush. Mom always insisted he spend his time before sleeping reading an actual paper book. She constantly complained that he was straining his eyes by looking at screens all day, and that it was bad for his sleep patterns not to keep his distance from them before bed. Because of her job, she spent more time in front of a screen than he did.
He went through the routine of getting ready for bed, including shouting a goodnight from the top of the stairs. Both his parents replied simultaneously with their own goodnights. It had taken awhile, but Keith was glad he had taught his parents early on that they didn’t have to come say goodnight in person. Even as a little kid, he hadn’t been keen on the forehead kisses, and the overly tucked blankets. As quickly as he could, he had claimed the night for himself. Unlike his best friend, Russell, whose mom still saw him to bed every night she was there, and sat on the foot of his mattress for a couple of minutes, asking him about his day.
Two books currently occupied Keith’s nightstand. One was a book his mom wanted him to read, the other was the next in an epic fantasy series he’d been making his way through for the better part of two years. He read one chapter of the former before plunging into the latter. The time when he was supposed to stop reading slipped by. When he noticed, he debated whether he could get away with starting the next chapter, but since he had expressed his desire to watch the meteorite, he knew his parents would be on alert for him trying to stay up late. Instead, he set a new alarm on his phone before switching off the light.
Like most other teenage males he knew, Keith was a heavy sleeper. Even when he knew he’d be waking up earlier than usual, he was almost completely out by the time his mom cracked open his door. He knew this, and had made sure to set his alarm for fifteen minutes before the event, giving him plenty of
time to rouse himself. He didn’t really need that much time, as his excitement leapt into his brain the moment he heard his alarm.
Texting Russell, he learned he had done the same thing as Keith, and when they got invited to a group chat, it seemed like most of their year was there, along with a few others from ahead of them and others from behind. Some had permission to watch but most didn’t. When he and Russell joined, people were making jokes about three guys who had been crashing at one house, and had tried to stay awake the whole time. They might have made it, had they not gotten drunk and passed out. The meteorite would strike shortly after three a.m.
In the list of members who were a part of the chat, Keith spotted Aisling’s name, and found himself sitting up straighter. She wasn’t the prettiest girl in school, but she was smart as a whip, with a tongue that could lash just as painfully. Best to be on guard with her listening in. He sent a private message to Russell, just in case he hadn’t noticed.
Mandy wasn’t on the list, which was both disappointing and a relief. Keith wouldn’t have to worry about saying anything that made him look stupid, and he’d want to say something, anything, if he knew she might read it.
A creak out in the hallway had Keith laying his phone flat on his mattress, jammed under the covers. He closed his eyes, pretending to sleep, hoping whatever parent it was didn’t notice that he was propped up on his pillows more than usual. At least he’d had the wherewithal to keep his phone on silent.
The sound didn’t come toward his room. Instead, Keith heard a creaking on the stairs. His parents were sneaking down to watch the meteorite
on the big TV. Keith shook his head, wishing he had thought to grab his laptop earlier.
With less than a minute to go, Keith switched over to the live feed. The chat had started to go pretty silent anyway. The talking heads had stopped, so there was nothing easy to make fun of. Now, NASA was just showing a view of the island from a camera placed on a second, nearby island. A countdown ticked away in the corner. It was a wholly unexciting shot. Dark blue ocean, early morning sky, and a big mound of rock and dirt wedged between the two. It was an uninhabited island that some sea birds used as a breeding colony. Luckily for the birds, their nesting season didn’t begin until next month, although where they were going to go after this was anyone’s guess. Scientists had already crawled all over the island, making sure no rare forms of life were hiding in any crevices, and placing instruments that had low odds of survival.
It happened fast. So very, very fast. Keith barely saw the streak that appeared only for a couple of frames. Not long enough for him to even realize it was anything before WHAM! A blinding light, and the feed jumped to another camera on a ship that was even farther away.
The Atlantic had been relatively calm before, but now it was surging, the view rocking with the ship it was attached to. Within the swinging, Keith saw dirt and steam being hurled into the air.
Another feed, this time an aerial shot from an extreme distance. The ships below were tiny specks as they fought the sudden tides. First the waves were pushed outward by the blast, and then there was a sucking inward as the ocean rushed back to fill the void left behind. Debris towered into the sky, spreading as
it struck the upper atmosphere. And then the plane shuddered as the blast wave hit it. Miles and miles away, and the roaring air pressure was still enough to shake the craft.
The feed stayed with the airplane for a minute. Two minutes. Three minutes. Keith simply stared. A chunk of the Earth had just been vaporized. It was really only by chance that NASA had spotted the rock coming before it reached them, that they had had enough time to alert people and set up all these cameras. Keith shivered in his warm bed. How easy it would be for another rock, a bigger one, to catch them completely unawares and wipe them out. That was how the dinosaurs had died.
As the feed returned to the talking heads, Keith was fearing the wrong thing. ...
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