Curse of the Immune
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Authors: Levi Doone
Curse of the Immune
By Levi Doone
Copyright © 2015 Levi Doone
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Table of Contents
Knowing you’re going to die is a very strange thing. It’s like anticipation, excitement, and a weird sort of calming sensation all rolled up into a mess of confusing emotions. I’m Lea Tusa, fourteen years old, and today I’m going to die along with the rest of humanity.
The asteroid that’ll wipe out life on Earth is scheduled to hit at eleven seventeen a.m. eastern time. All attempts to destroy or divert it have failed and the president of the United States has made his final address to the nation. He basically advised us to make peace with God and wished us all good luck. Reports then said he went with other government officials, dignitaries, doctors, professors, extremely rich people and anyone else important enough or with enough clout to rate a space in the underground facility that will house the part of the human race sufficiently special to deserve to be saved.
Whatever, right?
The general public has known about the giant falling rock since November seventh of last year. That’s when Chinese scientists leaked their discovery to the World Press. Once it was confirmed by the rest of the science community, the planet went nuts. The digging and burrowing began. Even underwater fortresses were constructed. After all was done, the safest bunkers with the best chance for survival could only house one eighth of a percent of the human race.
Isn’t that great?
In addition, all the planet’s nuclear power plants were shut down and weapons of mass destruction were dismantled so any survivors wouldn’t need to suffer through a manmade holocaust along with the aftermath of the rock.
At least one nice thing came out of this disaster. All the nations stopped their bickering and fighting so they could work together to try to avert the asteroid. The knowledge of our collective demise caused world peace, probably for the first time in history.
As far as individual people, well, that’s a different story. In the past month, there have been mobs trying to force their way into the underground shelters, protesters walking on the world’s capital cities, and way too many suicides.
Most people, however, have been preparing themselves the best they can for the end. Churches, synagogues, mosques, and other houses of worship have been very busy. My church, Saint John’s, has been holding confession day and night. Yesterday, the line went out the door, around the church five times, and into the parking lot.
As for me and my little world, well, I’m not afraid. Like I said, I feel calm and anxious, if that makes any sense. I do look forward to seeing my parents. It’s been seven years since they died in a fire at the laboratory where they worked. My twin brother Luke and I are all that’s left of my family. We now live with foster parents, Roger and Ellen Hogan. They became foster parents to supplement their retirement income.
Feeling special, right?
Anyway, they’re good people, both in their late sixties. Their existence consists of watching a lot of TV and going to Connecticut to play the slot machines.
Some retirement.
As for my brother and me, they feed and clothe us. Provide us with a roof over our heads, and offer friendly advice from time to time. They’re not pushy about it, which suits us just fine. Neither of us needs someone pretending to be our parents. Besides, they already raised their own kids so they’ve been there, done that.
Luke enjoys the freedom of being parentless a little too much. He dropped out of school a few months after the news of the asteroid. Actually, a lot of kids did. He’s been spending all his time with his girlfriend Chloe, trying to cram a lifetime into a few short months. That’s where he is now. I wish he were here, but I guess I can’t blame him for spending the end of days with his love.
I stayed in school the rest of the year. Me and my nerd herd. I’m boyfriend-less, so dropping out would leave me without anything to do. Keeping busy is how I deal with all this craziness.
My bro and I supposedly look alike, but I don’t see it. I mean, we both have brown hair and eyes, and we’re almost the same height— he’s taller. That’s where our similarities end. He’s thin with muscles; I’m thin and lanky. He’s athletic, playing basketball, football, and baseball. I used to dance when I had parents to pay for it. I’m an A student—not bragging. I guess you could say my bro has the looks, and I have the brains—still not bragging.
I don’t mean to say Luke is a dope and I’m hideous. He could get good grades if he cared, and I just look plain. You know, strait long hair, thin nose, and pointy chin, not exactly destined for Hollywood. Plus, I’m so skinny I think my head looks like a lollipop. My friends say I’m too hard on myself, but they’re my friends.
My bro and I fight a lot, but we care deeply for each other. I sure do miss him, and it kills me thinking I’ll never see him again. When he left for Chloe’s, we said our good-byes. I got teary and he got annoyed, but when he rode off on his bike, he kept looking back at me. He’s really a softy, even though he tries to act like a tough guy.
With Luke gone, all that’s left to do is watch the television coverage of the asteroid as it enters the atmosphere, with Roger and Ellen. They both have been quiet about the whole end of the world thing. They’re sad for their six grandkids for never getting a chance to “experience life,” as they put it.
Neither have Luke or me.
It’s almost that time. So with a nervous stomach and a head full of hesitation, I head for the living room to watch TV with George and Ellen. They’ve been on the phone all morning, saying good-bye to their three kids. They all live in different parts of the country. Throughout the summer, they all visited for the last time. It was nice to see them and the grandkids. Then they all decided to spend the last days in their own homes.
I walk into the living room and give a nod and a, “Hey.”
“It’s time, isn’t it?” Ellen says.
On television, the coverage is in the Philippines. It’s one of the landmasses close to where the asteroid will hit. It’s expected to strike around two hundred miles off its west coast in the South China Sea. We’re told in an instant, more than a quarter of the planet will be obliterated. The rest of us unlucky ones will wait for fiery ash to envelop us. Our part of the globe will be near last.
Not really looking forward to that, but scientists ensure us it will be a quick death. We’ll see soon enough.
In that part of the world, it’s nighttime. The camera shows us all the sea crafts that traveled from all over to get a front-row seat for the end of the world. You can’t make out any boats in the darkness, but you can see all the lights. Looks like stars in the sky. They say even more people have traveled to the Philippines, Vietnam, China, and Malaysia. It’s all so creepy, weird, and understandable. The last thing you see is a light show. Then you’re toast. Cool and painless.
On the lower left of the TV screen is a counter counting down to zero. That’s when the rock will hit the ocean. The counter now reads 4:03. My stomach feels like it just took a dive to my feet. This is really it.
The scene now turns to the sky, showing the meteor. It’s actually pretty cool. It looks like a giant potato-shaped moon. A few seconds go by and the rock disappears in the night sky. The reporter says it has fallen within the Earth’s shadow. With the screen continuing to show where the asteroid used to be, the reporter explains we’re waiting for the asteroid to enter Earth’s atmosphere and begin to burn.
Maybe a minute goes by and a huge ball of fire erupts. As it once looked like a moon, it now appears as a sun. The black sky turns blue, and with picture-in-picture, the screen shows the harbor in apparent daylight while showing a smaller picture of the rock.
Whew, this is when the end begins. I wonder if we’ll feel the impact. Scientists say we won’t, but looking at that thing makes me wonder.
For a split second, I look at Roger. He seems in a trance, staring at the TV. When I look back, the ball of fire is now spread across the sky and is now a faint orangey glowing cloud. The harbor is in darkness.
“What just happened? Did I miss something?” I ask.
“Shh,” Roger replies. “Listen.”
“What’s just happened, Nancy? What are we looking at?” a voice on the TV asks.
“I, I can’t say, Bob. This wasn’t expected,” the ground reporter replies.
The counter on the screen ticked off to zero and nothing changed. No impact. The screen goes black, then shows a middle-aged man behind a desk in a news-room with people scrambling around behind him. “I’m Bob Wedner from the international news-room in Sydney, Australia. What you have just witnessed and scientists are now confirming is the asteroid has just exploded during entry into our atmosphere. No falling debris has yet been reported. It seems the great world-ending disaster has been averted.” Tears are forming in the anchors eyes and his voice cracks. “I repeat, disaster averted. All that remains is a giant cloud over much of the Indian and Pacific Oceans.”
“Averted? This is good, right?” I feel the need for someone to confirm what the guy on TV just said.
“Yeah, yes, it is. Everything’s gonna be all right! Were all gonna live!” Roger exclaims.
The news-cast returns to the scene at the Philippines as it has turned to absolute pandemonium. People are cheering, dancing, and crying under the gloomy, weird, lightly glowing orange sky.
The news guy comes back on the screen. “Scientists confirm the cloud is not orange from any burning. The fact that it is spreading quickly shouldn’t be a cause for alarm. China announces it has sent a science team in a special weather plane used to study conditions in the upper atmosphere. It was to be used to observe the meteoroid’s impact. We’re now waiting for reports from that aircraft.”
While waiting, the news guy starts talking about all the celebrations all over the world. Images on the TV start showing scenes from Israel to Mexico City, then Lima, Peru. I stop paying attention after Lima and start feeling hopeful. The more time goes by, the better it looks. Maybe disaster has been totally averted.
I find it hard to remain in my chair, so I get up and walk to my bedroom. While going up the stairs, I try to let it all sink in. We’re actually all gonna live. Unbelievable, I mean really. I don’t believe it. It must be all a dream.
I walk into my room and see my cell phone dancing on my nightstand from its vibration. I pick it up and see all my friends are texting like crazy. Texts like, “OMG, I can’t believe it!” or “We’re gonna live!” stuff like that. I type, “Wooh whoo!” and send it to everybody. I’m really starting to feel pumped now. I can’t stay in my room, so I go back downstairs.
Ellen is up and trying to make phone calls but can’t seem to get through. Roger is slouched back on his chair like he just returned from a hard day’s work. He’s wearing an ear-to-ear smile that he can’t seem to get of his face, and Roger doesn’t smile much. When he does, it’s small and brief.
A voice from the TV says, “The Chinese aircraft reports the orange mist or cloud is made up of microscopic iron particles that are generating a slight electric pulse, most probably from friction. This is what’s causing the florescent glow. The scientists and flight crew all report mild headaches and nausea. Medical physicians explain it’s due to exposure to the massive amounts of iron. Considering what we were expecting, this reporter welcomes the mild symptoms.”
So it’s official. The world won’t end! I feel if I stay in the house any longer, I’ll just scream for joy. That may be to shocking for my elderly foster parents. So I tell Ellen and Roger I’ll be outside, and I head for the door. When I get outside, I notice the brightness and heat of the day and I love it. I go for the backyard, then beyond into the adjoining forest, and I run. Hindered by my flip-flops, I kick them off and continue to run. My feet feel the plants, sticks, and earth. It feels awesome. The emotion makes my heart feel like it’ll explode, so I run faster. That feeling is pure joy. Something I haven’t felt since my parents were alive.