The Wandering Star (The Vega Chronicles Book 1) Page 2

  Candles burned in the center of the table, and there was a spread of bread and some vegetables in various sized bowls and plates lined in a row along the center of the expansive table. An equal distribution of men and women lined the table, chatting among one another; families with children, babies and the elderly.

  All dined together; all were strangers when they first came to the catacombs, now they knew each other, from days, months and years of living next to one another. They rejoiced together in the birth of a newborn; they mourned together in the loss of an elder.

  “It’s a myth!”

  One of the elders – who appeared to be the leader of the group – looked up from a plate of potatoes and vegetables and raised his silver eyebrows. He sat back and looked over at the younger, portly man who had shouted the outburst.

  The elder tossed his fork on the table with a clank. “You think the habitable zone is a…myth?”

  The elder scoffed and shook his head as the younger man looked around the room nervously, and sat down slowly. He stood and he tossed his fork on his plate with a clank and looked around the room.

  He walked towards the outer wall, looking away from the table. His hands were clasped behind his back, as he looked down at the floor, and stood, for a few moments, and nodded, as the chatter had died down and the room became silent.

  He took a deep breath and sighed.

  He looked up towards the ceiling, and then turned around and looked back at those dining at the table.

  They stopped and looked up at him as he spoke. “The habitable zone is not a myth,” he said, looking around the room. “I have been in contact with those who have found it. There are people living there already!”

  “And how do you know this?” His face shifted. “Have you been there? You have taken the journey?”

  The Elder’s face froze. “We have received word from some of the other colonies that this area exists. On this new super-continent that we live on. Somewhere, but it hasn’t been mapped.”

  The colonists looked at each other as the room swelled with chatter. The elder raised his arms. “Please…please. All I know are from the communications from those who have contacted me from their zones and, yes, word has traveled.”

  One of the younger men at the far end of the table stood. He was tall yet muscular, a light blonde, short, military style crew cut. “Elder Cane, a question if I may. How long have you known this, sir?”

  Elder Cane nodded. “Good question, Jeremiah. I have announced this revelation at our dinner this evening as I learned from a scout who arrived earlier this morning that a colony in the center of the country has discovered that there is a habitable zone – an area where life can still sustain itself. Outside of the colony. On the surface! Away from the radiation. Where there is still some protection from the sun rays. The temperatures there are warmer than they once were on Earth, but they are tolerable. And life, apparently, is evolving.” Jeremiah spoke as he sat back down. “Will it still be the same as here? With the daylight and everything? And the darkness? The cold?”

  The others looked on as the elder took a deep breath. “If you mean the length of the sunlight versus night, yes, we expect it to be the same. As many of you know, when this great shift of the seas happened, it happened slowly. Over time, everyone. Of course those of you who are younger will not remember the Old World, those of you who were small children when admitted to the colony and those who were born here in medical. We just noticed it when the air became unbreathable. And the heat was just too unbearable. And when the radiation came, the daylight became deadly.”

  A large woman, holding a nursing baby, looked up at Elder Cane. She brushed her bushy red hair away from her forehead and looked directly at Cane with wide eyes. “So you are saying we’re still going to have six months of daylight there? And six months of night?”

  Elder Cane shrugged and returned to the table. “I would imagine so. But then, I don’t really know, Elsa. None of us know for certain. We have no reason to believe – since the planet is no longer rotating – that anything will be different in this ‘zone’. Other than that it’s habitable. Plants are growing. Livestock is surviving. We believe…from what we have been told…that there is a degree of protection from the radiation. Some remaining troposphere, perhaps. But I don’t have much more to report – yet – until I have had some time to interview this visitor. He came unannounced.”

  Cane continued: “He’s in a coma in medical. He arrived here early this morning – and he may have some answers. When he wakes, and after we have interviewed him, I will call a meeting in the hall.”

  The colonists returned to their dinner, as a man sitting in the corner strummed his guitar.

  Cane shook his head as he returned his attention to his plate, but there was an aura of uncertainty in the room, he could tell.

  The conversations had quieted.

  He heard the clanks of flatware against china as the colonists continued their meal in silence. Just who was this scout? And why was he visiting their colony when the atmosphere was so hostile? How did he survive the journey?

  Cane closed his eyes, and hung his head down toward his plate.

  He listened, but the room was silent.

  There was an occasional clank of the silverware, and perhaps a cough, or someone clearing their throat, but that was all. The guitarist had even stopped strumming.

  And then he remembered the silence in Philadelphia.

  Years ago.

  Those were different days.

  When the city was in pandemonium; when the new coastline had been just a few mere blocks from his high-rise condo.

  The quiet that had permeated him through the silent nights, as he would look upwards towards the sky, back in the days of his youth when he was in Philadelphia.

  He remembered, so vividly, walking out onto the terrace of his Center City high rise apartment. He had a view across the Delaware River, and on that particular night, when the seas had been shifting, he looked over towards the east, towards New Jersey, and all he saw was darkness.

  The waves were coming, and getting closer.

  No longer were the familiar lights on the other bank of the river; no longer were Camden and Cherry Hill bustling with activity.

  Only…darkness…and silence.

  And all he had heard that evening was the dull roar of the surf against an otherwise quiet, still night.

  *****

  Years had passed since the colonists had populated the underground cities.

  For some, they had spent their entire lives living underground in the cities closest to the equator; and Desmond Cane had been no exception.

  Before the Great Shift, he had been stationed at NORAD. But as the rotation of the planet slowed, oxygen levels thinned in the higher elevations, and he had been relocated to Philadelphia.

  But the time in the city of Brotherly Love had been short lived, for the rising sea levels gradually inundated the east coast and, when news of the coming wave broke, the pandemonium ensued.

  While standing on his balcony in Philadelphia, Cane had lit a cigarette, and as the pop of the match cracked against the still of the night, and the burning of the embers crackled, and as he blew a cloud of smoke and looked towards the east, he couldn’t get the sounds of the surf crashing on a new, nearby beach out of his mind. He could even hear his breath as he blew out a cloud of smoke.

  He knew.

  He didn’t have to watch the panicked reports on the news.

  He didn’t have to look out at the streets filled with people; for those in the brownstone walkups were already loading their cars, parked on the sides of the streets, as the water surged its way deeper into the city streets with each passing day.

  Cars were stacked with items sometimes three or four feet high, and as Cane looked down, watching the people scurry, he took another drag on his cigarette.

  Cane knew.

  Without a doubt.

  The wave was coming.

  He shook his he
ad and turned back towards his living room. The newscast reverberated against the stark walls and hardwood floors, but he was not listening to it. It increasingly sounded like babble. There was no more time to go back to the laboratory, nor was there a reason to.

  The panic was already spreading.

  And the inevitable was already happening.

  With the millions of new residents from across the river spread across the eastern half of the state, there was a different aura to the city. Some lived in tents in parks; others, who could afford it, rented apartments or houses in the suburbs.

  But none of that mattered anyway.

  For the streets that had once bordered the Delaware were swiftly becoming inundated by surging seawater; and soon, millions would be displaced once again…

  *****

  …Back at the colony dinner, Cane looked up from his plate and scanned the room. “Finish your dinners as you usually do. There is no reason for silence. No need whatsoever. Go ahead, talk amongst your friends. This scout will tell us his intentions when he wakes. Until then, I will not hold anyone accountable for speculation.” He looked over at the guitarist and nodded.

  The conversations swelled, drowning out the strumming guitar music, as the colonists continued with their dinner.

  *****

  Jeremiah Walter was also regarded as a leader. And although he sat at a different table from the Elders, his youth did not deter from his knowledge or stature in the colony.

  He looked on as the Elders took their seats.

  He watched Cane, who had appeared deep in thought. The man was staring down at his plate, sometimes with his eyes closed.

  Jeremiah knew what Cane had been thinking about, because he thought about the same things.

  He sat back in on the hard, wooden bench, and looked around the room. Many of the colonists at dinner had come here either as children, or were born here.

  It had been years now since they had all arrived. Some had been here longer than others. But the most recent group of arrivals had been in residency for close to five years.

  The authorities said it would only be for a short while.

  Until “they could figure out what was going on and what had caused the Great Shift”.

  They had said that the catacombs were a temporary holding facility, until the habitable zone could be located and a mission could be arranged. And it became, over time, that who “they” were had been increasingly unclear.

  But that was years ago, and the only thing that had changed was been a planet that had gotten increasingly hostile. And supplies which were getting far scarce with each passing month and year.

  As Jeremiah looked around the room, he saw the Elders, chatting amongst each other, drinking their water and their wine, and then he looked over towards the commoners, who were seated on benches across a long, slender table. Had they been sentenced to this indefinitely? And how many of them had known only this existence?

  He closed his eyes for a moment, and listened to the chatter about the room. The clanking of flatware against plates, the indiscernible chatter of conversations that if were not honed in on, swiftly became the clatter of noise.

  In his mind, he heard the conversations from the crowds outside the doors. The chatter in the dining room forced him to remember. He could feel the searing sun blistering his neck and back. There hadn’t been much time left. And when he looked up, he drew his arm up to cover his eyes.

  “Name!”

  He looked up.

  A security officer dressed in green stared at him, his forehead shifted. He held a brown clipboard with paperwork. He held his hands out after a few minutes of silence. “Do you hear me?” he said. “Are you coming to the catacombs, or not?”

  Jeremiah looked down, shook his head, and laughed nervously. “Uh…yes. My family should be inside? Right?”

  The guard looked down at his clipboard. “You said your last name was Walter?”

  Jeremiah nodded and shifted his backpack from his right arm to his left.

  “I don’t see that name on here.”

  Jeremiah’s shoulders dropped and his bag fell to the ground. He stepped forward as the guard looked up at him and raised his eyebrows, but did not move. “Step back.”

  Jeremiah took a step back and shook his head. He pointed towards the clipboard. “Check it again, please. We are on the list.”

  The guard shook his head and sighed, but did not look back up at Jeremiah for several minutes. Finally, he pursed his lips and raised his eyes to look at Jeremiah. “I don’t see them sir.”

  Jeremiah took a few steps back, and looked up towards the sky.

  He held his arms out, and looked the common area: there were lines of people, families for the most part, which led up to the row of tables in front of the building – a large, imposing cement and steel structure, with multiple doors that appeared to be cargo bays, but each of the doors were closed. In front of each door was a table, and group of doctors dressed in white coats.

  He stormed a table, slamming his palms down on the wood. “Look around! All families here! Do you not see them? Have you seen them?” A surprised doctor looked at him with wide eyes and lay his clipboard down on the table. “Sir what is your name? Are you on the list?”

  “Jeremiah Walter.”

  Jeremiah took a step back and clasped his hands down in front of his legs as he saw a group of guards, dressed in blue, approach the table. The tallest was an older man with silver, stringy receding hair. “What seems to be the problem here, James?”

  The doctor looked over at the group of guards. “I don’t think he is on the list, Elder. Walter. That’s his surname. I am not seeing him. I cannot examine him if he isn’t on the list.”

  Jeremiah looked at the man directly. The man’s stringy hair looked familiar.

  Like he had seen the man before, in a different time and place, most likely a completely different context – he may have stood behind the man at the Shop ‘n’ Save, or perhaps they gassed their cars next to one another.

  But Jeremiah had the distinct feeling that he had laid his eyes on the man, at some distant point in the past.

  The silver-haired man looked over at Jeremiah, who stood and looked directly back at him.

  “You’re not on the list?”

  Jeremiah shook his head and ran his hands over his bald head. “No, sir. I received the certification in the mail last week. I have it in my pocket.”

  Jeremiah dug through his pocket and produced a dirty, wrinkled paper, and held it out in front of the guards. The eldest looked down as another guard next to him reached for it, and slowly unfolded it. The eldest man retrieved a pair of glasses from his front pocket and looked down at the document, studying it for several minutes, until he removed his glasses, folded them, and placed them back in his pocket. “I see that there are supposed to be three others besides you.”

  Jeremiah nodded.

  “So where are they?”

  He shrugged and looked around.

  The eldest shook his head. “The requirements are given quite clearly, Mr. Walter. Since you were expecting the invitation, you should have seen on the newscasts that the entire list of invitees must be present for anyone to be admitted.”

  “So what are you saying then? I can’t locate them so I have to go back out there and burn in the sun?”

  The old man raised his eyebrows and looked at Jeremiah. “Now you know that those months will not be here for at least another six weeks. Until then, there is a period when you can safely move about in the light. It’s like morning right now. The sun isn’t as strong as it is in mid-day. You can certainly find another colony before then.”

  Jeremiah stopped for a moment and looked at the eldest man, who took the wrinkled document, folded it in thirds and handed it back to him.

  “I know you from somewhere,” Jeremiah said. “I know I have seen you before.”

  The eldest man raised his eyebrows and looked at Jeremiah directly.

  “Name’s Cane
. I am the Director of this installation. Desmond Cane. I’ve been involved with NORAD out in Colorado and more recently, was stationed in Philadelphia when the waterline shifted. And, of course, I oversaw the creation of this colony.”

  Jeremiah’s eyes widened. “That’s where I knew you from!” He took a step forward and extended his hand as Cane took a cautious step back. Jeremiah followed by taking a few more steps forward. “I saw you on the news up there! Quite a few times, actually!”

  “How, may I ask?”

  “I lived in New Jersey. Grew up there, at least before we were displaced by the wave.”

  Cane nodded and looked at his clipboard. “And where did you go when New Jersey was overcome with the surge?”

  “I went with my family to Philadelphia for some time. But then we scattered.”

  Cane nodded. “How old are you?”

  “Older than you think. And older than I look.”

  Cane looked up from his clipboard and looked Jeremiah up and down, and then settled his eyes directly looking in Jeremiah’s. “Even so, even if you are decades older than you look, you would have been a child when the Great Shift happened. You may know New Jersey, but it hasn’t existed for a very long time.”

  Jeremiah placed his hands on his hips and studied the man. “I remember you, Mr. Cane. I saw you on the news. I may have been a child, but I remember that. Just like I remember getting a bright, shiny red firetruck for my third birthday. And I remember throwing up in class the following year. There are memories that just stick with you.”

  Cane nodded slowly, never taking his eyes off the new arrival. He looked on at the young, energetic man. “Very well then.”

  Jeremiah had wondered why there was so much distrust.

  He remembered Cane quite vividly now; and although Philadelphia had then been inundated – at least to the point of waves lapping at the third and fourth floors of downtown skyscrapers, he remembered Cane leading a great percentage of the population of Philadelphia to safer, dry land.

  But that had been before man fully understood what had been happening in the world. And until the colonies were built underneath the southern cities, there were groups of the population who became nomadic; others had become marooned in buildings surrounded by a new, swirling ocean.