The Perseid Collapse (2 page)

“Please, there is little time,” said the soldier, helping Director Zhen to his feet.

Chapter 2

EVENT -04:48 Hours

Jewell Island, Maine

The wind rose gently, nudging the campfire’s spectral plume toward Alex. He squirmed in the collapsible aluminum chair and turned his head as heated exhaust from the dying fire washed over him. The gust intensified, focusing the column of sparks and gases in his direction for a sudden, uncomfortable moment. Just as suddenly, the smoke drifted skyward on the confused breeze.

The mosquitos returned within seconds, causing Kate to mumble a few obscenities and wave a futile hand above her head to disperse the pests. He took her other hand and squeezed, finally catching her gaze. The soft firelight illuminated her gentle face and exposed the first genuine smile he’d seen since they left Boston yesterday.

“He’s really not that far away. We can visit him any time we want,” Alex said comfortingly, kissing her hand.

“I know. He’s just really on his own now,” said Kate, returning her eyes to the fire.

They had dropped Ryan at Boston University in the middle of the afternoon, after dining al fresco in Winthrop Square, a late-summer tradition they had enjoyed since Ryan and Emily were in grade school. The definition of al fresco dining had changed over the years, as the children matured. Lounging as a family, on blankets spread over the trampled grass, had inevitably yielded to scarfing down pizza and subs on the outskirts of the park. Still, they never failed to take time out of their annual Boston pilgrimage to visit the iconic Harvard Square gathering place and its eclectic assortment of musicians and vendors.

This year’s visit had been slightly awkward, if not tense for the family. Ryan had been anxious to be ferried across the Charles River, but Kate was in no hurry to surrender her firstborn. She prolonged the stroll through Cambridge, pushing Ryan’s barely tested patience to dangerous levels. Alex could sense the strain, and had spent most of the day implementing one subtle intervention after another to keep them from exploding before the inevitable outburst at the foot of Ryan’s dormitory building.

Kate remained silent for most of the drive back, punctuated by Alex’s occasional failed attempt to distract her from the significance of the afternoon’s farewell. Ryan was truly on his own, free to follow the path of his choosing. Every phone call that flashed his name would flood them with a mix of joy, apprehension and ultimately relief. Any conversation from this point forward could instantly morph into a defining moment for Ryan. Anything was possible. He had taken the first steps toward escaping his parents’ gravitational pull this afternoon. Ryan couldn’t understand this yet, but Kate and Alex had effectively released him, which is why Kate’s somber mood was nearly impenetrable.

“He’s a smart, cautious kid. Just like his mother,” said Alex.

“He has a wild side that worries me,” she whispered.

She was right to a certain degree. The events surrounding their experience during the Jakarta Pandemic had drawn out aspects of his personality that might have lain dormant for years, fueling a confidence that more resembled recklessness at such a young age. He didn’t have the maturity to temper the confidence that came with saving his father from a brutal psychopath at age twelve and standing guard over their house as the world recovered from the pandemic. He never crossed any lines that landed him in trouble with the school or police, but he was far too comfortable walking the line. Ryan was destined for something important. Kate just wanted to make sure he survived until that point.

“ROTC will keep him in line. There’s only so much crazy shit you can get away with enrolled in that kind of program,” he whispered back.

“Is that supposed to make me feel better? We’ll be at war with Iran by the time he graduates.”

“We were supposed to be at war with Iran last year—and the year before that. Nobody’s going into battle any time soon. He’s Navy ROTC anyway,” said Alex.

“He’ll switch to Marine-Option the first chance he gets. He was placating me with that song and dance about the navy. So were you.”

“Why are you guys whispering?” interrupted Emily.

“No reason. Has anyone seen a meteorite? We shall remain at the mercy of these mosquitos until everyone has spotted at least one. That’s the tradition,” said Alex.

“It’s meteor, Dad,” said Emily.

“What is?”

“A meteorite is a meteor that lands on Earth. Up in the sky, they are called meteors.”

“It could be a meteorite,” Alex argued.

“Maybe, but not until it officially hits the earth,” Emily insisted. “That’s why they call this a meteor shower.”

“Ethan, do you agree with Emily’s scientific assessment?” said Alex, trying to draw him into the conversation.

“She’s rarely wrong about anything,” said Ethan, with a hint of humor.

“I know someone else that is rarely wrong,” said Alex, glancing at Kate.

“Rarely? More like never,” said Kate.

Ethan laughed at their exchange, which comforted Alex. This had been the first year that they had been able to convince Ethan to join them on the sailboat, or any family trip for that matter. The idea to adopt his brother’s children quickly fizzled when Ethan and Kevin had arrived in Maine. The sudden death of their parents during the pandemic had firmly attached them to Alex’s parents. The situation was complicated, especially in the aftermath of the pandemic, and the Fletchers didn’t see any reason to disturb what little stability and family dynamic the children had left. Alex’s parents remained the legal guardians, eventually adopting Ethan and Kevin in 2015, when they could finally obtain the proper paperwork and affidavits from the State of Colorado.

They lived with Tim and Amy Fletcher on an isolated farm near Limerick, Maine, thirty-two miles west of Scarborough. Alex had purchased a large parcel of lakefront property and built a custom-designed, sustainable home for them, with the idea that the farm would serve as the Fletcher family stronghold if another disaster or pandemic ever hit Maine. Alex and his clan spent at least two days a week at the farm in the summer, helping with the massive garden, which required constant attention. Over the course of five years, the two families had turned the twenty-acre parcel of land into a self-sustainable family compound.

“Is Kevin looking forward to starting middle school?” Kate asked.

“He seems pretty excited,” said Ethan.

Alex met her glance, but didn’t hold it. Their relationship with Kevin had been strained since he arrived with his brother in Maine, playing a major role in the decision to abandon the original plan to adopt their orphaned nephews. Kevin had been openly hostile toward them from the start, which had been an understandable reaction to the loss of his parents. Alex didn’t need to read the latest “post-pandemic” psychology articles to understand what Kevin might be experiencing. He was well versed in the broad spectrum of emotions and symptoms related to post-traumatic stress disorder.

A brilliant streak flashed across the dark blue sky, just above the tree line to the northeast.

“There’s the first one!” said Alex.

“Where?” Kate snapped. “You’re full of shit. I was watching the whole time.”

“You see, kids, that’s why you shouldn’t drink underage. You lose your ability to see meteors,” said Alex.

Emily looked at Alex. “Mom isn’t underage.”

“Really? She doesn’t look a day over twenty to me,” said Alex.

Kate slapped his shoulder. “Your dad—Uncle Alex, is truly full of—”

“Don’t say it, Mom!” yelled Emily and Ethan at the same time.

“I meant twenty years old in the dark. In broad daylight you’re clearly thirty.”

“Nice recovery. You were about to get a stale beer hat,” she said, lifting one of the empty beer bottles over his head. “There’s one!” she said, pointing. “Move your chairs, kids. They come out of Perseus Constellation. You can barely see it above the trees. The quicker we each spot one, the sooner we can get away from these mosquitos.”

“We’re catching the tail end of the shower, so it might take a while,” said Alex.

Just as he finished his sentence, two near simultaneous flashes traversed the sky, appearing to head west over the coast of Maine. He was surprised that they had seen this many in such a short period of time. The Perseids typically peaked one week earlier, as the earth passed through the densest part of a debris field left by the comet Swift-Tuttle, on its 133-year orbital journey around the sun.

“That’s it for me. You can watch the rest of the show from the boat if you don’t mind being eaten alive,” said Kate, putting an end to the land portion of their evening.

“It just started,” said Alex.

Kate shook her head. “It’s past midnight, and I’m done. We’ll have to get out a week earlier next year.”

Ten minutes later, they plied the calm, moonlit waters on an eight-foot, inflatable rubber dinghy, pushed through the silky black cove by a four-horsepower, outboard motor kept at low throttle. Alex loved navigating the dinghy at night, relying on little more than instinct to bring them back to their sailboat, a dark mass anchored in the middle of the tight cove.

They never bothered to display their anchor light in this snug harbor. Aside from the occasional late arrival in the anchorage, the cove in the northwest corner of the island was protected from marine traffic on all sides, except for its entrance. Any boats entering the cove at night would proceed cautiously enough to spot a boat anchored in these waters. Nine boats now lay at anchor within it, and only the two larger sailboats near the entrance displayed mast lights.

Alex pulled the motor’s tiller into his body, taking the dinghy to the right of an illuminated luxury powerboat. They slid past the boat at a distance of fifty feet, giving the occupants as much privacy as possible. Inside the topside cabin, Alex could see four adults watching television. As they pulled astern of the monstrous cabin cruiser, he heard raucous laughter ripple across the water.

They came all this way to watch a stupid sitcom. What a waste.

Watching television or movies was not on the Fletchers’ list of permitted activities once they left the mooring field back in South Portland. The boat’s digital navigation plotter was the only screen onboard, and it didn’t stream a damn thing other than their current GPS coordinates. Kate and Alex insisted that everyone unplug on these trips, with the exception of e-readers. Reading, in any offline format, was highly encouraged. Card games were unavoidable. And conversation was compulsory. Sailing had little to do with the destination for the Fletchers, and everything to do with reconnecting as a family in a natural environment. Sparsely inhabited islands, pristine beaches, quiet coves and mesmerizing sunsets took them all down a notch, closer to their true nature, which was quickly obscured by the multitude of electronic devices and distractions that ruled their lives back on land.

He eased the dinghy alongside the
Katelyn Ann
and placed the throttle in neutral, grabbing the nearest rail to keep them from drifting away. Ethan stood up and gripped the toe rail with both hands, walking the dinghy back to the fixed swim platform a few feet away along the boat’s stern. He helped Alex keep the dinghy in place as Kate and Emily stepped on the swim deck and entered the cockpit area.

“Thanks, Ethan. I appreciate the help,” said Alex warmly. “I’m glad you decided to come along on the trip.”

“I’m glad I came too. This is really cool. Kevin would really like this,” said Ethan, stepping onto the platform.

“We’ll get everyone out next year, before college starts,” said Alex.

He tied the dinghy’s bow line to one of the cleats attached to the stern of the boat and climbed onboard, surprisingly tired from a day of leisure. Being out on the water always drained a good portion of his energy, especially during the first few days of any trip. Even in calm weather, the constant movement of the boat took its toll, readying him for bed at sunset. Glancing at his watch, he saw that it was at least an hour past his nautical bedtime. He turned and stared into the northeast sky, hoping to catch another meteor. Nothing.

“Who’s planning to sleep under the stars and watch the Perseids?” Alex asked.

“Not me,” said Kate. “The mosquitos got enough of my blood tonight. Wake me if the meteors really pick up, and I might watch from inside the cabin.”

“Emily?”

“No way. Your mosquito net contraption doesn’t work,” said Emily.

“Ethan?”

“Don’t let him talk you into it, Ethan,” Emily said. “You’ll be eaten alive unless you bury yourself in the bag. Then you’ll overheat. It’s a lose-lose situation. Seriously.”

“It’s really not that bad. The net covers your face, and as long as you stay tucked in the sleeping ba—”

“I think I’ll trust the women on this one,” said Ethan, stepping into the cabin.

“Smart man. The earlier you start listening to them, the better,” said Alex, swatting at the swarm that had already found them.

“I heard that,” said Kate. “Close the hatch, Ethan. If he wants to sleep outside, he can keep the mosquitos to himself.”

Alex stared into the sky. “The love is gone.”

A few moments later, the screen door opened, and his sleeping bag was dumped into the cockpit, along with a water bottle and a can of bug spray.

“The netting is inside the bag. How can you say the love is gone?” she said, quickly closing the screen door.

“Don’t I get a kiss?”

Kate pressed her lips against the screen, and he gave her a quick kiss through the thin plastic mesh. He turned his head and pushed his cheek against the barrier, feeling the warmth of her face.

“I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you more,” she replied.

They held their faces together for a few moments before Kate pulled away from the cabin door.

“I can see the mosquitos swarming your head. Good luck out there.”

“You’re gonna miss the show,” he protested, swatting at his arms.

“Not worth the price of admission. Holler if you need anything else, like a blood transfusion,” she said, eliciting laughter from the cabin.