Meteor

Meteor

by Brad Knight

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2015.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in book reviews.

Troy White woke up from a startling dream covered in a cold sweat. It was a dream that was reoccurring. First, he is standing in the middle of a field looking up at the sky, as black clouds seem to roll in and block out the rays of the sun. Then, he ushers all of his loved ones into the shelter he had been working so hard to build. He can hear howls of terror coming from outside. Once he began to hear the screams, he would always sit straight up in bed, wide awake, but feeling that the nightmare was so real, he would have to take a minute to come back to reality.

The reality of Troy’s day to day existence hit him almost as hard as the pseudo-reality of his dream. Once the alarm sounded, he had exactly one hour to get ready for his job as the supervisor at the warehouse for Nike Corporation. Sure, he had managed to get promoted over the years, but he was about to hit the ceiling in terms of advancement. His manager, Gary Nelson, would have to die before he would be able to take over his job, and after that the only thing left were corporate positions that he wasn’t qualified for.

As he sat up in bed and wiped the sleep from his eyes, his wife, Mary, glanced over at him with a look that could only be described as contempt.

“What is wrong with you, Troy? You are always waking up looking like a heroin addict these days,” she said with a complete lack of sympathy in her tone.

“I’m fine. It’s that same nightmare I keep having.” Troy got up to get in the shower.

“Maybe you need to see someone about that,” she said as she looked at her phone. Troy kept thinking that it just wasn’t natural for his wife to be on the phone as much as she was. Every time he saw her texting someone she would act all secretive about it, saying that she was just texting her girlfriend, Fredha, about the next time they were going to get together and play bridge. Then, she would quickly delete the texts that were exchanged.

Troy had suspected for some weeks now that she was having an affair, although he had no definite proof of this. There was one time when Troy’s friend, Steve, was at his house talking to Mary on the front porch when he came home from work.

“What are you doing here, Steve?” Troy had asked him.

“Oh, I came to get the drill that you borrowed from me,” he said, holding up the tool in question. “Gotta get going, buddy!” and with that Steve was gone. Mary seemed to be in a better mood than usual, which added to Troy’s suspicion that something had gone on between them.

One thing that could not be denied was the fact that their romantic life was on the skids. Every time he would make a romantic gesture towards her, she would thank him with a polite kiss on the cheek and then go back to whatever she was doing. It never resulted in a satisfying night of lovemaking like it used to in the younger days of their marriage.

As Troy got out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist, he could hear someone knocking impatiently on the door.

“Dad, are you finished yet?” Cordelia, his sixteen-year-old daughter, asked him. There was another bathroom in the house but he had yet to fix the shower that had ceased to function. He was either too busy at his job or working on his favorite project, his bunker.

As he opened the door, Cordelia stood there with her arms crossed in an impatient stance. She wore an over-sized t-shirt and her long, brown hair looked like a rat’s nest.

“It’s all ur-ine,” Troy joked as Cordelia rolled her eyes at her father’s attempt at humor, and prepared to spend nearly a solid hour in the bathroom getting ready for school.

Tensions had also grown between Troy and his daughter. Cordelia had been getting pretty serious about her boyfriend, Henry, and was spending more and more time with him. Troy might not have a problem with Cordelia and Henry spending so much time together if her boyfriend wasn’t such a deadbeat. He was eighteen and still a junior in high school.

Cordelia recently had gotten in trouble for trying to stay out all night with him. She got caught when her mother called up her girlfriend’s house to check up on her. Cordelia had lied to her parents about spending the night there and was in a world of trouble after she got home. Troy tried to be firm with his daughter and ground her for two weeks, but Mary took pity on her after only four days and let her go hang out with her friends.

Troy shook his head and went back to the bedroom to get dressed. After this, he went to the kitchen to fix coffee and sit on the back porch in silence for a few minutes. This was one of the times during the day that he treasured, when he could look out over the back acreage and contemplate his next move with what his wife referred to as his ‘doomsday shelter’. Then she would usually tease him about how he was going to end up on that doomsday preppers show. He would respond by saying, “Well, at least I’ll be prepared when the shit hits the fan.”

As the birds began to announce the coming day, Troy’s quiet time was interrupted when his son, Brandon, opened the sliding door and walked over to the deck chair beside him.

“Dad, I need to talk to you about something,” he said.

Troy sighed. He and Mary had worried for sometime now about the fact that Troy might be gay. It wasn’t that they were opposed to him being gay per se, they were worried about what he would go through at school. He seemed so unhappy and despondent all of the time. They had never seen him talking to girls, or mentioning them either.

“Sure son, what’s on your mind?”

“Can I have twenty bucks?” he asked.

Troy gave him a look. “What for?”

Brandon looked away before answering softly, “For school.”

Troy had his suspicions that his son was being bullied, and this would need to be dealt with sooner or later. Troy put that on his mental list of things that he wasn't looking forward to dealing with. But for the time being, he gave the kid the twenty.

“We’ll continue this later, son. I have to get to work,” Troy said, patting his son on his head. Brandon gave him a half-grin and followed his father back into the kitchen.

When Troy got back into the house, Mary was texting away to someone again. When she saw him enter the room she quickly put the phone down.

“I have some toast for you to take to work, dear,” she said. Troy found her language suspicious as well. Whenever she called him ‘dear’, she seemed to be hiding something. Troy did not respond.

Just then, Cordelia came down the stairs wearing a really short skirt that showed off her long, tan legs, and a tight t-shirt that emphasized her chest. She tried to walk towards the front door when Troy stopped her.

“Cordelia, come here right now,” Troy said as he crossed his arms. “I want you to go upstairs and put on something more appropriate. You are going to school, not for a night at the club.”

“Your father’s right,” Mary said. Cordelia flipped back her long, brown hair and rolled her hazel eyes. Then she marched back up the stairs in a huff to change her clothes.

Troy got out of the house, feeling a sense of peace once he got into his Ford pick up truck. Another thing that he looked forward to everyday was the fifteen minute drive through the countryside to the Nike plant. He could listen to the news on the radio and pretend for a moment like everything was okay in his life.

The plant was on the edge of the town of Dickson. Troy had moved his family there from Nashville five years ago and they managed to adjust to small town life, slowly but surely. He had acquired ten wooded acres and a house on the edge of town.

As Troy switched on NPR, he heard a report that caught his attention.

“Scientists are saying that the asteroid that is due to come close to Earth is the largest one seen in over fifty years. NASA is hoping to get some close up photographs with it as it glides past us. At this point, scientists think that a collision is unlikely,” the reporter said.

Troy nodded his head as if this was the perfect kind of thing that he should prepare his family for. “They think I’m wacko now, but just wait. There will come a time when they are thankful that we have the shelter,” he said out loud.

Troy always got a sinking feeling when he finally reached the plant. He was not looking forward to the mindless tasks that awaited him, or to be in the company of the dullards he worked with.

As he walked into the warehouse, his boss, Gary Arnold, approached him. Gary was pudgy and balding and had a strange quirk when he looked at someone. He had a tendency to blink really often, as if he couldn’t get his eyes to focus.

“Good morning, Troy,” Gary said as he looked at his clipboard, and then back at Troy.

“Good morn-” Troy began to say, but Gary cut him off.

“Troy, I really need you to work later today. The night supervisor is coming in late this evening and I need you to cover for him until he arrives.”

“But I-” Troy tried to protest, but was cut off yet again by Gary.

“I need you to do this for me, Troy. It is not an option, not if you value your job, that is,” he said as he began to walk off. Troy made a face at him behind his back. One of the warehouse workers, Hank, laughed at this.

“That’s showin’ him,” Hank said.

“Get back to work, Hank,” Troy said as he grabbed a clipboard and looked at the delivery schedule. “You concentrate on getting this shipment ready to go by nine thirty,” Troy told him.

“Yes, sir. Man, I have to tell someone about this. My buddies and I shot an eleven point buck over at Crachett’s hollow this past Saturday. Got off the cleanest shot I ever took,” Hank bragged.

“That’s great,” Troy said sarcastically. He couldn’t abide the small talk that these country folk engaged in. Troy didn’t have much interest in hunting and fishing, although he loved the outdoors.

“Whew man, did you see the new secretary in the office?” Wayne, another person that worked under Troy, said as he walked into the warehouse.

“Sure did, she’s a looker,” Hank replied.

“I think I caught her giving me the eye. She really is stacked, I tell you,” Wayne said. Troy tried to ignore these comments. These guys in the warehouse were always engaging in dull conversation and talking like a bunch of male, chauvinist pigs. Troy wondered what he had done in a past life to deserve having to be in their company day after day.

Troy turned around from his desk. “Hank, Wayne, I need you guys to stop salivating over the secretary for a few minutes and get that shipment of shoes ready to go.”

His office was tiny and tacked onto the edge of the warehouse. He had no privacy so he kept his computer turned so that his boss couldn’t see what he was doing, giving him a chance to get back on the warehouse inventory screen. He spent a lot of his spare time at work researching different ways that he could improve the bunker he had begun to build three years prior.

On this particular day, he was trying to research a weapons system that he could use to protect his bunker from invasion. In particular, he was interested in an incinerator that would act like a giant blowtorch and engulf any invader in flames that tried to gain entry. After an hour or two, he actually found a giant blowtorch that could be operated using a remote control. The cost was five hundred dollars, but it seemed more than worth it.

“Wow, that thing could melt someone in just a few seconds,” Hank said all of sudden as he looked over Troy’s shoulder.

“Hank, will you get back to work please?” Troy was unable to hide the impatience in his voice.

“I will if you will,” Hank said with a smile.

“I will allow you to keep your secrets, if you will keep mine,” Troy said, giving Hank a knowing glance.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, are you now denying the time I caught you on this very same computer watching porn?”

“Well, that was one time when I had a temporary lapse of judgment,” Hank said.

“Right, that might be true if it was only the one time, but there have been others.” Troy turned around and crossed his arms.

“Right boss, I’ll get back to it,” Hank said, as he pulled up his belt from around his large waist.

“Good idea.” Troy went back to the page where he was researching the incinerator.

“It's guaranteed to work effectively every time, or your money back,” he read in the advertisement. He nodded his head and decided to go ahead and order the weapon, which would get to his house in less than two weeks. He pressed the order button just as Gary came walking into the warehouse. Troy quickly clicked back on the warehouse inventory program just as Gary came up to his workstation.

“I need you to sign the timesheet from last week,” Gary said, as he placed a form down on Troy’s desk and looked to see what was on the computer monitor. He was satisfied to see the database open on the screen. Troy studied the time sheet to make sure the hours were correct, but then began to complain once he realized that he wasn’t getting paid for some overtime hours he had put in.

“Where’s my overtime pay?” he asked Gary, as he turned around to face him.

“I’m sorry, Troy, but the company is a little strapped right now. There will be no overtime pay until further notice, according to the boss of our division.”

“Well, I’m not sure that I can agree to that,” Troy said, making yet another attempt to stand up for himself.

“You don’t have a choice, that is, if you still value your position here,” Gary said, as Troy shook his head and signed the timecard.