The Death of Luke Morrow

Trapped in an underground bunker.

When I arrived by train to the wasted husk of a city occupied by resistant movement soldiers and news crews jousting for information, I didn’t think I’d get caught in the middle. I didn’t think that upon stepping off the lumbering tin can covered in ash and soot that I’d be forced into a bomb shelter with hundreds of other people like cattle into a slaughter house. I’d come to this city in the hopes of escaping the war elsewhere, not to enter another. As I sat kneeling against a wall and breathing musky air thick with the scent of body odor I dreamt of space. It was the only safe haven. Several ground shaking explosions went off above us. People screamed, children cried, and then the lights that were on inside the shelter went out. I felt a slight panicked tickle in the back of my throat. While this wasn’t my first experience with war, it was my first experience with an invasion of Earth. I turned to the watch on my wrist and pushed the light button,

“Sat 24, 11:45am”

            Then, as I was bringing my hand back down to my side, someone grabbed it and said,

            “Please, hold my hand!”

            It was a woman. She sounded frightened. Her hand had a gritty feel to it probably from when everyone was running to the shelter. I did as she asked, and found my way until our palms interlocked. I could feel her breathing in and out while I positioned my finger against the inside of her wrist. I could feel her pulse. It was quick, anyone could tell she was scared. She squeezed a bit, then took a breath and began to speak

            “Thank you, it helps” she shouted over the hundreds of other people around us “My name is Alice.”

            I turned to her voice in the dark and replied “I’m Luke Morrow.” We sat there for awhile after that brief exchange of identities, probably imagining what each other’s faces looked like in the light. Eventually the explosions stopped, and the people in the shelter calmed down. Those that were still screaming were the several small children and babies. War is a cruel thing. I can recall several instances where children were killed in botched missions while I was stationed on Mars. Those images never truly leave you. I never thought war would come to Earth.

It had been about 15 minutes since Alice and I began holding hands, they were sweaty now so I released my grip and wiped mine on my pants, then went back to holding hers again.

            “I saw you arrive on the train” she said finally breaking the silence “where were you coming from?”

            There was an odd distance in here voice that sent a light chill down my spine “Chicago , it’s worse up there.” I replied.

            “I had a brother that lived near Soldier Field. I haven’t heard from him in weeks, I think he might be dead.”

            “Many people are.” The words trickled out my mouth like cold water from a cup, “I don’t know where my family is either.” When I was drafted several years ago I remember sitting my parents down in the living room to tell them. The sun was casting wicked shadows across the floor as it made its slow crawl down the window shades, and my brothers were gone at work. In my hand I held the notification letter; I’d received it several days before, but building up the courage to break the news to my family was something that kept me up several nights in a row. My dad was against the civil war millions of miles away on a planet that they’d landed on when he was in his teens, and my mother felt the same only she kept her nose out of the papers and away from the news networks. I had an empty feeling in my stomach as all the butterflies I used to get when I was kid when something exciting was going to happen died. Their bodies seemed to add hundreds of pounds to my lean figure because I remember my legs feeling weak and shaky. Then there were the tears and the pale face of my father, but my mother… she just stared into an atmospheric void. I left three days later.

            “Why did you come here?” Alice broke the silence.

            There was curiosity in her voice, a yearning for information. I thought for a moment before adjusting our hands “They were evacuating, and I know that there’s a Ship port here.” Then I turned to where I thought her face was and asked, “What would you have done?” I felt it was a stupid question, something I knew the answer to already, but asking felt right. There was a long pause between what she said next. During the pause, I listened to children sniffling the last of their tears away, people coughing through the settling dust from the bombs going off above, and distant thuds of remaining artillery.

            “You came for the ship port? What? Are you a pilot?” her voice raised in pitch “What’re you doing still on Earth?”

            I felt the hair on my neck raise “It wasn’t by choice.”

            “Oh?” She returned quickly.

            “I was drafted, now I’m here.” In my head I was rolling my eyes even though in this dark it didn’t matter. The experience I gained after being shipped to fight in The Mars Colony War five years ago hadn’t prepared me for a full on invasion of Earth. I remember the first probes to escape our solar system brought both celebration and the real chance of making contact with intelligent life. I was sure the look on Alice’s face after telling her I’d fought on Mars was a frown. The war wasn’t a very favorable one, and anyone old enough to have grown up hearing the news coverage and seeing the ship hulls full of coffins knows it. I guess I was a lucky one.

            “What makes you think there’s any ships left out of this place? I’d have gotten out if there were any shuttles. You didn’t see them get blown out of the sky like ducks during hunting season” Alice added.

            I shrugged a bit, our hands still interlocked, “I know a guy,” I said. It was a lie that was only partially true. When I was discharged after the war, several of the guys I flew with started up their own transport and security services, using decommissioned ships, they managed to make a ton of cash, and secure several private docks in and around the port. Many of them were dead now though, but their ships were, if I was lucky, still locked away in underground storage facilities that I hoped to gain access to.

            When we made contact on the fringes of the solar system I remember being in bed. I’d gotten a phone call from my brother who lived on the East Coast to tell me that vessel signatures were picked up beyond Pluto. I’d been running logistic information for a small delivery company and it was my job to be aware of any changes in ship traffic. This was big news. It wasn’t long before we found out these scanner contacts were hostile. Colonies and stations started disappearing and the military mobilized. Had I still be flying frigates and shuttles I wouldn’t be here now, but I suppose being locked in a bomb shelter isn’t much different than being ten feet under. We never stood a chance against the aliens.

            Half an hour in a confined space can drive a person mad. We spend two hours locked in the bomb shelter. There was only speculation on what was going on outside. According to some invisible people lurking in the dark, alien troops had made their way to the outskirts of the city after a weeklong push to repel Allied troops from major city centers across the country. Had television and other long distance communication networks not been shut down, I might have stayed in Chicago until after the assault. Traveling anywhere at this point was a gamble. I knew of a final training leaving the city so I got on it. Many were too afraid to even go near the station, and those that did understood the risks. I didn’t have anything to lose. With no car or other means of transportation my options were limited. Not to mention much of the highways and roads were destroyed and patrolled. Our train was equipped with several turrets and squads to defend in the event of an attack. There wasn’t a shot fired.

            After we were in the bunker for about 45 minutes, Alice was comfortable enough to let go of my hand. We sat there for a few more minutes, listening to the people around us, exchanges nudges when someone said something amusing or stupid. When you’re in the dark for so long, your mind starts to create images to replace the blackness. It made me remember my time back in flight school during space ejection training; they’d suit us up and cover out eyes with blind folds before shooting us out into the vast black vacuum. We were tethered to the training vessel of course, but we weren’t allowed to pull the blind folds off until we were ejected 100 yards out, or the tether jolted us in our harnesses. The trick was to regain control of the ejection seat after being disoriented. We had to find the direction of “up” as if we were back on Earth. There were only two instances of the tether breaking and sending the guy in the seat hurdling out into space. That was a long time ago though.

            I was hungry, we all were. I tried not to think about that though. I brought my wrist up to check my watch again,

            “2:30pm.”

            I looked at the numbers for awhile. The green light the watch produced was an eerie sight after sitting so long. It was almost hypnotic. When it went away I brought my hand back to my side, and let out a long sigh in the direction Alice was sitting,

            “Alice.” I began, “What did you do before the war?”

            I heard her shuffle a bit; maybe bring her legs up to her chest.

            “I worked in a hospital” she replied.

            “What’d you do? Were you a doctor?”

            She let out a chuckle, “No, I repaired medical equipment. You’d be surprised how often everything breaks down” she said with a burst of air between her words.

            “Ever been on a medical vessel?”

            “Yes” she started “only for a few months. The work was harder and the hours were unbearable.” She paused for a moment “I transferred back before the fighting on Mars began. The ship I was on was destroyed in the initial assault.”

            The words stung. I remembered hearing about that while shipping out. I thought I was lucky. “You’re very fortunate.”

            “Is that what I am?” Alice said with a tinge of anger.

            I didn’t say anything. I found it best in situations where someone is coping with the loss of a loved one to just let them work it out. I was never good at consoling people to begin with, and when my youngest brother was drafted and sent to fight on the surface of Mars I did my best to not think about the chance of him dying. I remember thought when he did. I was pulled into my commanding officer’s quarters and told to have a seat. As terrible as it sounds, I was expecting a promotion, but the look on his face told me otherwise. He handed me an envelope like the kind I got with my draft papers and told me that my brother was killed. Everything after that was blurred and grainy. You grow up alongside someone for so many years and have an unbreakable relationship with them that you take for granted. When my brother died It was hard for me to go on. I was eight weeks into my deployment and suffering still from what everyone called “Vacuum Syndrome.” It just felt like I couldn’t breathe most of the time, like all the air around me was being sucked away. It felt like that when I got the news. I woke up a few hours later in the infirmary after passing out.

            “I lost my husband on that ship.” Alice said.

            I could sense the tears welling in her eyes. I could feel my brain beating itself up in my head while my heart sank and began working its way past the misplaced adrenaline. “I…”

            “You’re sorry?” She finished, “Yeah, don’t worry about it. You didn’t know.”

            We were quite for awhile after that. I mulled over our exchange. I lost friends and loved ones too. It was stupid to rationalize things that way though. Then, I nodded a bit feeling the weight of sleep wash over me and dozed off.

            I was only asleep for about 20 minutes when people near the entrance to the bunker began screaming and shouting.

            “They’re coming in!” One yelled.

             Then another screamed “They’re breaching the door!”

            I felt Alice reach and grab my hand as a wall of people pushed their way against where I was leaning. They kicked up dust into the air, creating an Earthy taste with each breath I took. I heard people breathing heavy through the still dark bunker. Alice was squeezing my hand to the point that I could feel my knuckles scraping against one another. Then, as quick as the shouting began, there were several loud thuds, and light exploded through the entrance. Immediately there was gun fire coming in from every direction. I could see a mist of blood floating near the entrance as people dropped in rows. I felt the blood in my face escape down my neck. All the luck I had up to this point. All the times I avoided death! And now as my mind raced and summersaulted I was about to be slaughtered with hundreds of people I had no faces for and killed next to a woman who I’d only just met.

            More people screamed, there was shuffling, pushing, and flashes of light as they entered the bunker to get better angles on us. I turned to stare at the woman who was still holding my hand. The light from the bunker had found its way onto her face, but before I could get a look I felt what felt like a pillow hit me followed by searing pain in my chest. I felt myself fall backwards and the ceiling turn up like the stars did when I was flying through space. I wasn’t holding Alice’s hand anymore. I watched tears well in my eyes as I coughed and tasted the metal flavor of blood coat my mouth. Then the bunker turned to the color of space without any stars.