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Interstellar Islands (Available on Amazon, B&N, Kobo, and more)
Part I - Prelude
A cold, gray breeze dragged across the barren land once known as Inland Florida. Metal fencing surrounded the backlot of Bride of Christ, Pentecostal church, though no one knew the name, as the sign had been repurposed many years ago. Two ducks were inside the fencing, one, Marvin, lie on its side taking its last breaths and the other, Honey, dipping its bill into a bowl of water.
Zane watched them from the roof of the church, shaking his head, causing his dark hair to swing in front of his small brown eyes, shielding his view for a few seconds. He was perched like a bird, looking out as far as he could through the unnatural fog. The wind cut through him and he wrapped his coat tighter, letting out a long crackling sigh as desolate tears welled up in his eyes.
Honey looked up when the back door to the church opened with a creak.
“Zane? Will you come down from there?” Marlow called up. She had a blanket over her shoulders, trailing in the dirt as Honey approached, looking for food.
“What’s the point?” he called back, not looking away from the ominous gray. “What’s the point of any of this? Look at Marvin.”
Marlow whipped her head, a long braid of hair swinging with her, and hurried over to the dying duck.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked through intermittent coughs. “I coulda…” She trailed off, holding the fragile duck head in her palm. “Oh, Marvin.”
Zane laughed a bitter laugh. “What? You gonna resuscitate him, again?”
She looked up towards him. “It’s a she. Marvin is a she.”
He laughed again, more lighthearted this time. “True.” His reply was lost in the wind.
“Would you come down here?” Marlow called.
He sighed again, wiped the tears from his eyes and climbed down.
The chapel was filled with plants, mother-in-law tongue, ferns and dwarf pines, among others. Most of the leaves were browning up and falling off. Marlow stood near the back, holding a steel trap-door open with one arm and Marvin tucked under the other.
“Come on,” she said. “You really shoulda been wearing your mask.”
Zane grunted, shrugged and followed, catching the door from her as they descended into the underground bunker.
The bunker had been built by a preacher with a zeal for Armageddon, Pastor Jerry Hill, warning his congregation time after time that the end was near. Though it hadn’t been exactly as described in the bible, he wasn’t far off. It had started with the threat of a nuke by Pakistan, then an actual one launched by the US. Soon, North Korea, Russia and other countries joined in and World War III was well under way. This was forty-five years ago, 2045. Three quarters of the population was lost during the war and the aftermath, but humans are remarkably resilient. The Earth had a resurgence about twenty years back. People went back to smaller communities, farming and taking care of each other. Power grids were restored for some areas. Nations were re-established, but many years of lawlessness couldn’t just be undone. Countries once strong, were now weak and recovering, others took advantage of that.
The Final War happened two years ago. Zane, Marlow and their families took shelter at the church bunker during it, “Built for times such as these,” Pastor Hill said, but the air was saturated with death. He, and most people with more than a few decades of using their lungs, passed on first, along with children.
It was five degrees the day Marvin the duck died, and it started a string of events Zane and Marlow couldn’t have dreamed of.
A cold, gray breeze dragged across the barren land once known as Inland Florida. Metal fencing surrounded the backlot of Bride of Christ, Pentecostal church, though no one knew the name, as the sign had been repurposed many years ago. Two ducks were inside the fencing, one, Marvin, lie on its side taking its last breaths and the other, Honey, dipping its bill into a bowl of water.
Zane watched them from the roof of the church, shaking his head, causing his dark hair to swing in front of his small brown eyes, shielding his view for a few seconds. He was perched like a bird, looking out as far as he could through the unnatural fog. The wind cut through him and he wrapped his coat tighter, letting out a long crackling sigh as desolate tears welled up in his eyes.
Honey looked up when the back door to the church opened with a creak.
“Zane? Will you come down from there?” Marlow called up. She had a blanket over her shoulders, trailing in the dirt as Honey approached, looking for food.
“What’s the point?” he called back, not looking away from the ominous gray. “What’s the point of any of this? Look at Marvin.”
Marlow whipped her head, a long braid of hair swinging with her, and hurried over to the dying duck.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked through intermittent coughs. “I coulda…” She trailed off, holding the fragile duck head in her palm. “Oh, Marvin.”
Zane laughed a bitter laugh. “What? You gonna resuscitate him, again?”
She looked up towards him. “It’s a she. Marvin is a she.”
He laughed again, more lighthearted this time. “True.” His reply was lost in the wind.
“Would you come down here?” Marlow called.
He sighed again, wiped the tears from his eyes and climbed down.
The chapel was filled with plants, mother-in-law tongue, ferns and dwarf pines, among others. Most of the leaves were browning up and falling off. Marlow stood near the back, holding a steel trap-door open with one arm and Marvin tucked under the other.
“Come on,” she said. “You really shoulda been wearing your mask.”
Zane grunted, shrugged and followed, catching the door from her as they descended into the underground bunker.
The bunker had been built by a preacher with a zeal for Armageddon, Pastor Jerry Hill, warning his congregation time after time that the end was near. Though it hadn’t been exactly as described in the bible, he wasn’t far off. It had started with the threat of a nuke by Pakistan, then an actual one launched by the US. Soon, North Korea, Russia and other countries joined in and World War III was well under way. This was forty-five years ago, 2045. Three quarters of the population was lost during the war and the aftermath, but humans are remarkably resilient. The Earth had a resurgence about twenty years back. People went back to smaller communities, farming and taking care of each other. Power grids were restored for some areas. Nations were re-established, but many years of lawlessness couldn’t just be undone. Countries once strong, were now weak and recovering, others took advantage of that.
The Final War happened two years ago. Zane, Marlow and their families took shelter at the church bunker during it, “Built for times such as these,” Pastor Hill said, but the air was saturated with death. He, and most people with more than a few decades of using their lungs, passed on first, along with children.
It was five degrees the day Marvin the duck died, and it started a string of events Zane and Marlow couldn’t have dreamed of.