[Short Story] - Meteor Strike

Did I forget to turn off the internet again? I was woken up by my phone vibrating violently.

I rolled over, picked up my phone from the nightstand, and before even unlocking it, I noticed the screen was turned on and my wallpaper was replaced by a completely red background with black letters, written in all capitals:

WARNING: METEOR HEADED FOR EARTH. SEEK COVER. THIS IS NOT A DRILL.

The message wasn’t a regular text message or a message through any of my messaging applications either. It opened in a completely different application that took over the entirety of the phone’s screen.

Still half asleep, I sighed and reread the message thinking it must’ve been some sort of sleek advertisement. I found it strange, though, that it wasn’t asking me for money. I wanted to lock the phone and put it back down on the nightstand, but it buzzed again just before I let go of it. I was certain it was the continuation of the advertisement and it was asking me to buy something.

YOU HAVE BEEN CHOSEN. REPORT TO THE NEAREST AIRPORT IMMEDIATELY.

I was squinting my eyes to read the black letters off the bright red screen–the screen somehow set itself to full brightness–and I couldn’t understand why I would be told that via a text message and not over other media, like the news or the radio.

I decided to ignore the texts and tried locking the phone and go back to sleep, but no matter how many times I pressed the power button, nothing happened. The screen remained bright red even if I held the power button down for eight seconds which was supposed to force the phone to shut down.

Thinking my phone must’ve gotten hacked I put it back on the nightstand, face down, and turned the other way.

I couldn’t get the two messages out of my head, though.

If someone had hacked my phone, why would they display such a message? Wouldn’t they ask for money? Or threaten to release my private content?

About five minutes later I realized I couldn’t fall back asleep no matter how hard I tried. My mind was occupied with the two messages and my bladder needed emptying, too.

I got up to go to the bathroom and instinctively grabbed my phone to use its screen as a light source and immediately noticed that not only did the screen stay bright red, it then displayed a timer in place of text.

03h 30m 49s

I felt the rush of adrenaline kick in and I froze on spot, my eyes locked on the screen. I could feel sweat droplets combining on my forehead, and a lump forming in my throat. I stood beside my bed, just watching the digits countdown until the minute digits moved a unit.

Three hours? No way that’s true. They would’ve told us over the news. I let that thought sink in a little. Wouldn’t they? I shook my head with the realization it might just be true and the government was keeping it a secret from us. After all, they could never have saved all 7 billion of us. Maybe they’re just trying to kidnap me. I wanted to look for an alternative explanation but no matter how hard I tried, my mind kept going back to the idea of it being true. Why me, though? Why would they choose to save me? I’ve never done anything worth mentioning. I’m just an average broke college student. I don’t have good genetics either.

Then it hit me. I had no predisposition to any of the genetic diseases, never smoked or did drugs, was incredibly strong and agile, and both my sight and hearing were great. I did have good genetics, just not the aesthetic kind.

Dumbfounded with my own discovery, my knees caved in and I crashed back down on my bed, my limbs shaking out of control and my heart beating far above its normal rate. Sitting down, I contemplated my options.

The nearest airport was 40 miles away from me. I didn’t have a car, my stamina was way too low to make it in time by bike, and because it was the middle of the night there was no way I could take a bus.

The more I thought about it, the more I was left with only two options. I could call a taxi and pay all my money for the ride, or I could call one of my friends and try and persuade them to give me a ride.

I decided to try the latter, but I soon realized I couldn’t quit the timer on my phone to make a call no matter what button I pressed, and no matter which way I swiped on the screen. The only choice I had was to fire up my computer and try to reach someone over an online message. I did exactly that.

I messaged everyone whose name sounded at least remotely familiar and asked for a ride to the airport. To make it more appealing to the potential driver, I also offered to pay $25.

After I sent the message to everyone I could, I sat back in my chair and nervously watched for the “read” notification to appear near someone’s name, all the while also keeping an eye on the timer. Watching the computer screen, biting my nails furiously, I had a plethora of new questions arise.

Is it three hours until the meteor hits or three hours for me to get to the airport? And how do we even avoid anything by plane? We can’t fly indefinitely, and even if we could, there’s surely going to be a huge cloud of smoke in the air that will eventually kill us. Might as well just stay home.

The sound of a notification brought me back to reality. Someone had responded to my message.

It was my distant friend Jessica from whom I haven’t heard in ages. She replied with a question instead of an answer, to which I only replied:

“I’ll tell you on the way. Can you drive me or not?”

I didn’t intend to tell her anything. If she were chosen herself, she would have known what it was about, and if she wasn’t, I wasn’t going to tell her she was going to die.

“Sure. $25 is $25. I’ll be at your place in 15.”

I was overjoyed with the reply and bolted up to find some clothing to put on, I was still only in my underwear.

Do I need to pack anything or do I just show up? The message left a lot of questions open. I didn’t have much time to think, and at last decided to pack a couple shirts, socks, and pants into my backpack. If I couldn’t take anything with me, I could always just leave the backpack behind. It also made explaining to Jessica much easier. I could tell her I was traveling somewhere and messed up the date, or hour, of the flight and desperately needed a ride.

In the midst of packing I heard a car horn from the outside and immediately knew it was her. I ran to the window and waved to her, showing her two fingers. I needed two minutes more.

I squeezed as much clothing as I could into my backpack, put my shoes on and ran outside. I sat into her car, and just as expected, she bombarded me with questions. I told her I was going to visit my aunt in Canada and that I thought my flight was the next day. Surprisingly enough, she believed every word and went on about how nice it was of me to go visit my relatives, and how she should go and visit hers also.

Despite trying my best to remain calm, she could tell I was nervous, but fortunately she brushed it off as just being worried about my flight. If she would’ve persevered with the questions for long enough, I might have just told her everything I knew.

When we arrived to the airport, everything seemed normal at first glance. There were a couple of attendants outside to help with the luggage, people saying goodbye to their friends and relatives, and a lot of taxi drivers. Nothing was out of the ordinary.

Before she dropped me in front of the entrance we agreed to meet for a drink when I got back, which truly hurt because I knew it wasn’t ever going to happen. It was then that I also realized that I was saying goodbye to her for good.

Feeling a lump forming in my throat and my eyes starting to water, I took out my wallet, handed her the promised $25 and hurried out of the car as fast as I could without even saying a proper goodbye. I couldn’t have handled it.

I made sure she drove off before checking my phone, making sure nobody else could see it either. The timer was still there, and read just a little over two hours. I exhaled with relief that I had made it on time and wanted to enter through one of the many sliding doors, when one of the attendants approached me and told me to stop.

He asked why I was there, to which I didn’t know how to answer. Not knowing whether he was in on it or not, I recycled the story I told to Jessica. The attendant was far from pleased and asked me to leave, telling me the airport was closed due to extreme circumstances and that I would have my ticket money refunded by next day.

I tried arguing with him but he didn’t budge, until I saw other people coming, and showing the attendants the timer on their phones to pass through. He immediately let me pass when I showed him my phone’s timer, and told me to go to gate 17, take the elevator there, and go to floor S.

I joined a group of three people on my way to gate 17 and we ended up taking the elevator together. None of them knew what was going on, or what the next step was, we all just followed the given instructions.

When the elevator door opened we were met with a view none of us could have possibly anticipated. A huge underground hangar with a giant white rocket in the middle, and the ceiling just opening up to the clear night sky.

One of the men in a lab coat approached us near instantly and pointed toward a staircase leading inside the rocket.

Seeing the rocket, and knowing we were to board it, answered the biggest question of mine. It was then clear we were flying out into space to avoid the meteor, but it didn’t tell me whether we were going to land someplace else and live there, or if the idea was to wait for the dust cloud to settle and then land back on Earth.

Before we made it to the rocket we were asked to drop all the luggage we were carrying, put in earphones, and change into a space suit, like the ones I only saw on television before. It was a strenuous act to put it on, but with the help of one of the assistants there, I somehow managed. He also told me how to get it off, and how to take a leak without taking it off entirely, then set me off to board the rocket.

When I made it inside, there were only about 10 other people there, not more, and we were all continuously told to take a seat over the earphones. The room wasn’t big and only housed about fifteen seats, but the voice made it clear that there were two additional floors that still had empty seats. I didn’t bother with changing floors, just sat down into the first empty seat I stumbled across.

I wanted to take out my phone to keep myself entertained but quickly realized it had been taken from me. Not like I am going to need it anyway, I thought to myself, knowing that in a couple of hours there wouldn’t be any people left on Earth for me to call, nor any signal for it to be of any use to try.

I remembered then I forgot to call my mother and tell her that I loved her, but figured it was best that way. I couldn’t have told her what it was all about anyway. It would’ve broken us both.

Looking around the room I could tell everyone else was just as frightened as I was. Nobody had the slightest idea about what was going on. Some people prayed, some were tapping their feet nervously and couldn’t remain still, and some were only observing their surroundings–like me.

It took maybe fifteen minutes for the room to fill up completely and when the last person took the seat a red light started flashing above the door we entered through. One last person entered, waved to whoever was outside and the door closed behind him. He then went through a door I hadn’t noticed before and very soon after I could hear the countdown to launch. He was the pilot, no doubt.

We were getting ready to take off and all I could think about was how many people we have left behind. All the people who have willingly helped us board the rocket, knowing full well they were never leaving that platform. I couldn’t help myself but shed a tear for them. At the same time I also felt grateful for everything they had done. Grateful for having been chosen.

Moments later my mind was cleared of all thoughts thanks to a force far stronger than what I have ever believed was possible, or survivable, and glued me to my seat. We have taken off.

When the shaking stopped and I could move and think again, the voice told us to remain seated for the next ten to fifteen minutes until we reached our destination, and then we could walk around freely.

Surely not flying to another planet. Not in that little time, I thought to myself. The plan must be to hide from the blast, then orbit the Earth until the dust settles.

I looked around and the woman sitting beside me was crying. She was about my age and I decided to place my hand on top of hers in an attempt to comfort her. When she looked at me and our eyes met, I smiled and tried telling her everything was going to be okay, but soon realized she couldn’t hear a word I said because of the earphones we all wore. We laughed about it and despite my words not reaching her, it worked.

I wanted to keep her busy, so we tried lip reading. We sometimes had to repeat the same words several times but it was a lot of fun–we laughed every time the other person didn’t understand. I found out she was 22 years old, like me, was a chemistry student, and that she did gymnastics, and painted in her free time. Time flew by quickly and all of a sudden the voice told us it was okay to unbuckle our belts, take off our masks and earphones, and move freely. The first thing we did as soon as we were free of all constraints was hug each other as if we were long-time friends.

The pilot had come from around the corner and we greeted him with a loud applause, shortly followed by a barrage of questions. People wanted to know all sorts of things; from when the meteor was going to hit, to how one becomes a pilot of a rocket, all the while I only had one question on my mind. I wanted to wait with it until the others were done asking him, when somebody else asked it.

“How much food and water do we have?”

To which the pilot, who had introduced himself as Ken, only answered with “enough,” then hastily excused himself back to the cockpit.

I found the answer very sketchy, but talking to Mira quickly calmed me down. We found out we had a lot in common and it was obvious we instantly took a liking for one another.

Our conversation was interrupted by Ken informing us that the meteor was going to hit Earth in five minutes, and we all immediately glued ourselves to the window to watch. Surely enough, we could see a giant rock closing in on Earth from the other side, then vanishing behind it for a couple ten seconds before hitting it head-on.

We couldn’t see the impact, but we saw its consequences–a giant cloud of dust and fire spreading in all directions until the entirety of the planet was engulfed in it.

The room went dead silent for at least five minutes after the impact. Nobody moved or said a word, we all only watched with our jaws dropped.

A silent prayer broke the silence, and almost everyone else followed suit. We all started crying and Mira and I hugged again.

The next couple of weeks were dull to say the least. There was nothing to do, not even a single board game to play, and nothing left to talk about. The food all tasted the same and resembled a week old leftover lasagna, and because we knew we were recycling our own urine, we were certain all the water tasted like it, even though it probably didn’t.

Mira and I ended up being a couple, but there was only so much we could do and talk about before it all got boring. Same with conversations with other people, and other rockets in our vicinity. We were overjoyed at first to learn they were there, but quickly got bored of them because there was nothing we could do together.

We checked on Earth daily but the massive cloud of smoke and dust showed no signs of retreat. A month down the line I got worried about our food reserves again, to which Ken gave the same answer as on day one. “Enough.” I couldn’t decide whether he was trying to keep us from panicking, or if he had no idea himself.

The more time passed, the slower it felt. I once got bored to the point I deliberately tore my clothes just to be forced into sewing it back together. I also picked up yoga and pilates that I have always hated to try and battle the bore, but nothing helped.

Two months down the line there were still no visible changes to Earth. The people on the spacecraft, however, have changed quite significantly. We all lost a lot of weight.

In the following days I could see Ken getting increasingly more nervous with every passing hour. He spent an ever greater amount of time in front of the window observing the dust cloud and I could often see him nervously walking up and down the ship. He was also very short tempered whenever somebody approached him, no matter how innocent their inquiry.

Not long after, he had confirmed my worst fear.

On the 80th day Ken gathered us round in the main room after lunch and told us that our food supplies have been depleted in full. He told us he had tried to come up with a solution by growing crops using our feces as fertilizer, but that it didn’t work out. He went on to apologize and explain how the dust was supposed to settle in a maximum of two months according to the world’s best scientists, and that we also couldn’t have brought more food due to the rocket’s weight limitation.

Nobody accused him of anything and we all thanked him for what he had done. A woman he had spent a lot of time with wanted to run up to him for a hug, but he told her to step back because he had one last message for us.

He pulled a pistol from behind his back and told us we had a choice about how we wanted our lives to end. Die of starvation, or end it with the pull of a trigger. He reached behind his back again and pulled out three extra magazines. There were enough bullets for everybody. He acknowledged that taking one’s own life was hard and as his final gift, he offered to be the man behind the trigger–with our consent, of course.

The five minutes of silence we had on day 1 when the meteor hit Earth had made their second appearance.

Nobody cried. Nobody prayed. Nobody panicked. We all knew it was inevitable and not worth stressing over.

“I’ll go first.” Cindy spoke up from the crowd and stepped forth. She walked up to Ken, they nodded at each other silently, and she kneeled before him. “It was nice knowing you all. It really was. But I am not going to starve and watch you all die before my eyes. Whenever you’re ready, Ken.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

I could see a tear roll down Ken’s cheek as he aimed at her head. But a promise was a promise, and he wasn’t a man to break his word. He closed his eyes and pulled the trigger, splattering the insides of her head all over the floor. She died instantly, and we watched her body lifelessly fall on the floor only moments later.

We stood in silence for a while, contemplating, when another brave soul mustered the courage to step up. It was my friend Daniel.

He, too, thanked everyone for the time we have spent together, then joined Cindy in the afterlife.

I looked over to Jessica and we shared our thoughts.

We volunteered to go next.