Act of War

A bright flash of light greeted Spunk with such a ferocity that his eyes burned. Seconds later, the sound hit him, a deafening roar. Instinctively, he hit the floor, crawling under the desk and bracing himself for the worst possible outcome. Blind terror filled him as he relived the worst war zone he had ever been in.

His hands were gripped tightly around his ears like they might fall off, his knees jammed into his chest so tightly he could barely breathe. His ears rung cacophonously. He felt a cool breeze coming from the other side of the desk.

He may have only been there seconds, a minute. But it felt like a lifetime. His grip on his ears slowly loosened and left behind was the ringing and the feel of his heart pounding nearly through his chest. Realizing that whatever the danger was had probably passed, he thrust himself up onto his feet.

Spunk staggered through the wildly door, whose hydraulic opening mechanism had busted open. He was greeted by the sun and pure, utter desolation. He saw father and daughter sheltering on the ground ahead. He broke into a run to get to them.

"Are you alright?" He shouted. He closed the distance to them and grabbed the father by his shoulders, prying him off of the girl. "Are you hurt?" He screamed at the man as he squinted at him, coming down from his own terror roller coaster. He seemed dazed, but Spunk could see no blood or shrapnel. He shoved the man gently to the side and grabbed Molly from underneath him.

"Are you okay?" He shouted in her ear. She was shuddering, but he couldn't tell if it was because she was in shock or if she was actually hurt. He pulled her, too, up by her shoulders, meeting her blue, tear stained eyes with his own haunted orbs.

"Are you okay?" He repeated, gentler but still loud enough to hear himself over the ringing. She hesitated, and then nodded. "Where are the boys?" He asked. A look of horror crossed her face, and then relief swept her when she saw their pill-shaped craft safely in the parking lot. Spunk gave her a small shake and motioned. "Go get them. Bring them inside. Go. Hurry! We don't know what that was."

It seemed that the father was still a useless piece of human, sitting on the ground dazed and confused. Spunk rose and grabbed the man's hand. He didn't struggle. "Come on, man. Inside." He pulled the man's weight up, feeling his shoulder ache uncomfortable as he burdened himself with the man's weight.

"Can you walk?" He asked and the man just stared at him blankly. Spunk groaned. "Come on. We need to move."

He pulled, and by an act of God, the man started walking. More of a stumble, really, but Spunk would take what he could get. The little soldier Molly had already ducked inside their craft to retrieve the boys.

Spunk was torn by duty to stay instead of move. She's a fine young woman. She's got this. One part of his brain was saying. But the rest of him saw the smoking mass of... something... just beyond the parking lot, and didn't know what it was, or if it was still dangerous.

"Inside." He shouted at the man. "The bathrooms are bomb shelters. Go. I'll get your children." He gave the man a helpful shove in the direction of the shop, and was grateful when the man stumbled off. Poor guy was probably concussed into next week.

Spunk sped-walk towards the spacecraft as Molly came out, toddler in her arms and younger brother trailing behind her. Spunk met them halfway and grabbed the older boy, who seemed just as confused as the father had been. He lifted him up onto his shoulders.

"Can you run? I don't know..." Spunk waved uncertainly behind them. "I just want to make sure you're safe."

Molly nodded and together they jogged, children in hand, to the store and inside the door. As he crossed the threshold, Spunk set the boy down and looked at Molly.

"The bathrooms in the back are bomb shelters. Don't ask me why. Go there and wait. Your father should be in there already."

She nodded and grabbed the older boy's hand as she led them gingerly back towards the rear of the store, trying desperately even still to not look at the sex toys all around her.

"Amalyn, are you still active?" He asked the empty room, not expecting an answer at all. The lights were on, but chances were high that whatever it was had hit something important.

"How can I help, Peter?" Her bright cheery voice greeted him and he felt strangely relieved.

"Check the news for an emergency, disaster, battle, or anything violent on Epsilon Five." He responded. "Can you do that?"

"I'm sorry, Peter." Her voice came back. "Our access to the global network is impaired for some reason. Would you like me to try something else?"

"Can you turn the radio on?" He asked as a follow up.

"I can!" She said brightly. "What would you like to listen to?"

"Please give me the emergency broadcast station." He said as he walked back towards the bomb shelter himself. He couldn't communicate with Amalyn in the bathrooms -- obviously, that would be creepy -- but he could at least be close in case something happened.

"Right away, Peter." And his ears filled with static as the Amalyn changed to the emergency broadcast station.

He heard a series of beeps followed by a shadowy, static filled voice. "TAKE SHELTER IMMEDIATELY. EPSILON FIVE HAS BEEN STRUCK BY A SERIES OF MISSILES FROM UNKNOWN COMBATANTS. TAKE SHELTER IMMEDIATELY."

Yup. Pretty much, worst case scenario.

--967day10--

With nothing else to do, Spunk made his way into the bathroom to find the family huddled together.

"Everyone okay?" He asked as he opened the storage closet and pulled out a few folding chairs.

Molly nodded, looking demure once again. The toddler in her lap was latched onto her like he would never let go. The smaller boy was trying to look brave, but failing miserably. The father looked less dazed, but highly uncomfortable in a sex shop's bathroom.

"Thank you." The father said. Spunk wondered idly if the man felt naked without his IDOLATERS sign, which had been left outside in the madness.

"The emergency broadcast says that the planet was hit with missiles, but they don't have any information. Said to take shelter." Spunk shrugged. "My guess is that if we don't hear any other big crashes or booms for a while, it'll probably be safe."

"Does this happen often?" Molly said shyly and Spunk pretended to ignore the daggers that her father sent her with his eyes.

"Not since I've been here." Spunk said. "It's been a long time since I've had explosions in my life." He suffocated the urge to make a sex joke. Those kind of explosions, ha ha. His brain finished the line for him.

"Here, have a real seat." He offered as he unfolded the chairs. "It's not the comfiest, but it will do for now. I'm going to be just outside the door listening to the radio. My computer and her speakers don't reach in here. Privacy issues and all."

He stepped outside of the room before they could protest and took a deep breath as he listened to the radio repeat its message, over and over and over. How had life gotten this weird?

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