“We have to hurry!” Heather called loudly. “We don’t have much time.”
“I know,” her mother said sadly, stopping. “If we didn’t need the food so badly—”
Heather grabbed her mother’s hand, and began dragging her through the concrete maze of corridors and walkways, finally emerging at the cliffs. “Gather what you can.”
Hurriedly, they began grabbing whatever vegetables were ripe, stuffing them in their small baskets.
“These aren’t ready yet,” her mother said, pausing again. “We should leave them—”
“There’s no use leaving anything,” Heather said bitterly, her hands twisting and yanking at the vines. “You know that. We have only an hour or so until the wave reaches us.”
“Why did they have to drill the moon?” her mother muttered. “Why was it never enough—?”
Heather tuned her out, stuffing food as fast as she could in her baskets. There was no time for why’s, and should haves. What was, was. The chain reaction had started with the drilling, but everything had just lined up perfectly like dominos to spell the end of most life on earth. They’d be blasted flat along with the rest when that wave of fire rolled across the earth’s surface if they weren’t underground with the others when it came.
Down in the earth, inside concrete walls, they’d be fine, the scientists said. The big worry was having enough food. Trees and plants would come back, after a while. The earth would be scorched, but not enough to hurt everything down in the earth. Anything stuck on top, though…
“We’ve got enough,” Heather said, struggling to her feet. “I can’t carry more.”
Her mother waddled to her, both baskets bulging, her arms laden. “But there’s so much left—”
“Come on!” Heather fled over the lush grass, her mother following. They crossed the concrete together, reaching the doors at the same moment.
“Let us in,” Heather called loudly, knocking. “We’re back—”
“Look,” her mother said softly, turning to the ocean. “The water is burning.”
Heather turned with horror. The sky was light, almost like sunrise, but the air was thick with a yellow smoke. The ocean was steaming, some floating objects ablaze.
“Those are birds,” her mother murmured. “They’re on fire—”
The far shore was molten and cracked, beach umbrellas torches, the lifeguard towers pyres as the sand fused into glass.
“We have to get inside!” Heather screamed, her basket dropping, food spilling in all directions. She pounded on the door. “Let us in!”
“It’s too late,” her mother said, grabbing her close. “Look away, sweetheart—”
Heather let out a scream, her lungs roasting as the superheated air hit them. The entwined figures collapsed, then were lost in flames as the wave of fire washed over them.
_________________________
©2011 Tara Fox Hall
Tara Fox Hall received her bachelor’s degree in mathematics with a double minor in chemistry and biology from Binghamton University. Her writing credits include nonfiction short stories, flash, short and novella-length horror stories, and contemporary and historical paranormal romance. She also coauthored the essay “The Allure of the Serial Killer,” published in Serial Killers - Philosophy for Everyone: Being and Killing (Wiley-Blackwell, 2010). Her first E-Book, Surrender to Me, was published in September 2011. She divides her free time unequally between writing novels and short stories, chainsawing firewood, caring for stray animals, sewing cat and dog beds for donation to animal shelters, and target practice.
Tags: Tara Fox Hall
September 30th, 2011 at 11:26 am
What a great excerpt. Tara Fox Hall can really write. I am very impressed.
October 18th, 2011 at 5:43 pm
Thanks Jenny