MASS EJECTION VOL 3
Cassie, Theo, Sarah, and Kaito confront new realities as they gather what information they can about the world in the aftermath of the CME hitting Earth.
Welcome to the 16th edition of This Nick Writes. A newsletter that delivers one creative work of prose in your inbox once a month.
"Mass Ejection Vol 3," is here!
Earlier this month I re-shared with you Vol 2 and recapped Vol 1. I’m sure you just couldn’t handle the anticipation. Below will be recaps for both Vol 1 & 2 and without further delay…
"Mass Ejection Vol 1" summary:
A boat Captain, drunk and groggy, can't get her boat to start in the middle of the night. Alone and tired, she notices an eerie green glow from the sky above her.
Two Backpackers wake up to a stunning aurora borealis filling the starry sky above their tent.
A Pilot, annoyed with his co-pilot, is informed that they must make it to Tokyo before a Mass Coronal Ejection strikes the earth and risks all their lives. Will they have enough fuel to make it?
"Mass Ejection Vol 2" summary:
The Captain struggles to find her way to shore but makes it. As she arrives at her favorite bar she discovers the power is out due to a large CME hitting Earth and everyone that had arrived for summer vacation is gone.
Two Backpackers who were enjoying their time in nature are told by Rangers that everyone needs to gather at the two main harbors on the island by the end of the week and await transport. All they know is the world will no longer be the same.
Kaito wakes up from his sleep to find out his plane is low on fuel and is being held in the air by the airport. He makes the decision to land at a smaller airport but the landing fails and the plane careens off the runway and crashes.
And On Land
The smoke floats up to the yellow-stained drop ceiling covered with graffitied greenbacks–tourists’ small declarations that they were once here. Cassie watches the smoke waft in the stale air, roll off, and dissipate. The nicotine, tobacco, and tar burn her throat: a pleasant and comforting feeling. She wonders if the tourists that always annoy her will return. Her eyes glaze over as she adds another smokey layer to the bar’s atmosphere–its ethereal dance, more elegant in the dulling candlelight.
“Need another?”
Pete waddles over, a warm can of Busch in his hand and up for grabs.
“Yep.”
He pops the tab and slides it to her. She grabs the warm aluminum and takes a deep swig as she taps the ash off her cigarette into the ashtray.
She burps. “Haven’t seen many of the regulars.”
Pete smirks, “They ain’t fond of warm beer.”
“Drink the liquor then.”
“We’re outta it.”
“All of it?”
Pete reaches underneath the bar and pulls out a lone whisky bottle. He slams it down in front of her, “Even the one I saved for you.”
“Fuck.”
“Yeah.”
Cassie watches him walk down the length of the bar, wiping it down with a towel. She takes another large gulp.
“You did that already.”
He shrugs his shoulders, “I ain’t got nothing else to do.”
“How about you pop a squat and throw one back with me?” She slaps on the bar stool next to her. “Help finish what is left of the supply.”
Pete cracks a grin. “That sounds like trouble.”
“It is trouble.” She lifts her arms up to point out the vast vacuum of the bar without people. “But as you said, what else is there to do?”
From Pete’s perspective, her arms perfectly frame the front door to the outside world. A door that could use some new hinges and a coat of paint. He doesn’t recall a time the bar was this empty.
He sighs. “Fine.”
He turns and opens a door to a non-functioning fridge. He pulls four warm cans of Busch from within it and closes the door. Cassie smashes her finished cigarette in the ashtray and drunkenly smiles as Pete plops beside her.
‘That's what I’m talking about. Pop me open another.”
Pete points to the beer can near her hand. “You still got one to finish.”
Cassie raises her left pointer finger and picks up the half-filled can with her other hand. She places the lip on her lips, tilts it back, and chugs. In a few gulps, it is empty. She crushes the can with her grip and throws it behind her. It clicks off the back wall and lands somewhere on the floor. Pete raises his eyebrow.
“You’ll have something to do later.”
He cracks open two beers and hands one to her. “Fuck you.”
She cracks a smile and clinks her can against his.
“Fuck you too.”
They both take a drink, sit in silence for a moment, and contemplate why they lost the will to talk.
Cassie feels the pockets of her red flannel shirt until she finds her pack of cigarettes. She pulls out the smashed and wrinkled pack and snags another cigarette with her mouth.
“How long until we get power back?”
She strikes a match off the bar. Pete turns the can of warm beer around and around on the bar’s black laminate.
“It might be awhile. I heard they got their hands full in the cities right now.”
Cassie leans back and glances over at her friend, exhaling a cloud of smoke.
“They always bail them out first.”
“Eh. It's where the people are.”
“Weak people.” She gives Pete a drunken grin. He fakes a smile back.
“My wife was from one of those.”
“I know. I know.”
Cassie takes another drag. “That's one thing I never liked about you?”
“That I was married?”
She laughs heartily. “Uh, well, maybe, but no. You’re an Eagles fan.”
Pete chuckles. “Still mad about that Superbowl?”
Cassie pushes Pete. “We got six.” She holds six fingers up. “Six! Trophies.”
“Yeah. Yeah. Don’t rub it in.”
“Should have had seven. Letting Brady go was dumb.”
“Real dumb.”
“Fucking assholes.”
“Fucking. Assholes.” Pete agrees. That awkward silence returns again. Cassis takes a big gulp of beer. Pete sips his.
She burps, “Aren’t they supposed to be prepared for shit like this?”
“Who?”
“The government.”“Oh, yeah. I believe they were.”
“Did they forget?!”
Pete shakes his head as he drinks his beer. “No. I think the funding was cut.”
“Idiots.”
“We got it as a tax refund.”
Cassie gulps down the last of her beer. “Really?”
“Yeah.”
She crushes the can and throws it off into the distance behind her.
“Don’t worry. I’ll pick it up.”
“Alright, Cass.”
He takes a gentle sip of beer and looks around his establishment. The candles are burning out, the once cozy, warm yellow light turning into an eerie red-orange. When he looks back at Cassie, he sees her drunk eyes gleaming at him.
She lays her hand over the top of his.
“S0…”
“Cass…”
“It’s been a while.”
Pete gives her the most gentle of smiles as he removes his hand from hers. “Let’s keep it that way.”
Cassie hits her fist off the table as she stands. “You’re a real gem. You know?!”
“Yeah.”
She grabs the last two cans of warm beer. “For the road.”
“You going to get your boat?”
“Fuck you, Pete.”
“Okay. Cya later.” He waves his hand.
Cassie doesn’t bother to look back as she walks across the bar and waves her hand over her head.
“You know it.”
She shoves her shoulder into the front door and pushes through it.
Pete feels the lightness of his can–only a sip left. He doesn’t really drink anymore. It's not because he doesn’t like the taste or enjoy the company of those who do, he just doesn’t like how it makes him feel. He recalls the times in his life when that used to be the opposite. The times in youth when drinking to feel drunk was the point. There may be irony in him still owning a bar without much of a desire to consume its main product, but that isn’t for him to decide. That is in the hands of others.
A faint red streak on the horizon, remnants from what might have been a spectacular sunset. Cassie trips her way down the middle of the road in what might best be described as a ghost town. Only a few locals enjoy an evening stroll, almost like nothing has happened. She sucks down some more beer as she makes her way through the abandoned streets.
She notices a tiny sliver of an unfamiliar emotion wrenching through her numbed mind: a yearning for the busy season and the annoying tourists that made it so. It surprises her. She never noticed how well she hid among the crowded summer streets and the commotion of happy travelers. In their absence, she feels naked.
In A Wilderness of People
He stands on solid granite, a view of miles with Lake Superior dominating. It's deep blue, the great barrier between the island and the mainland. Theo takes a deep breath and attempts to hold onto this moment.
The sun is high, and tiny clouds dot the sky. The breeze is fresh and cool. Everything passes more quickly than he would prefer. Small pillars of white smoke emerge from Daisy Farm–campfires. He wonders how many people are down there.
He grabs his Nalgene, unscrews the cap, and sips water, straight from the lake, which tastes much better than the pond-filled scum they were forced to drink earlier. He closes up the cap and takes in the view one last time.
Sarah waits at an old wooden sign with the hand-carved word “Lookout” on it. She swats at a bug flying around her head. Her pack lays next to Theo’s as she waits for him in the shade of a tree. She hears the scrape of the rubber soles of his boots on the steep, slick rock and his low grunts as he hops down from one ledge to another.
He jumps on the trail. “You should have come up.”
“Someone had to watch the packs.”
“We could have brought’em.”
Sarah shoves her water bottle into her backpack. “Can we go?!?”
He shakes his head as he grabs his red Deuter bag and slings it over his back. “No need to be short about it.”
“Well, I want to go.”
“We’re going to get there.”
“Yeah, well… if they are already shipping people off, and we miss it…”“They aren’t.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I didn’t see any ships.”
Sarah buckles her waist and shoulder straps and grabs her trekking poles. “You saw the harbor?”“Yeah. You can see Daisy from up there.” He points the way to the lookout. “I think they’re letting people light fires.”
“Oh God.”
“What?”
“It must be bad.”
Theo shakes his head. “Or they just want to keep people from complaining. We won’t know anything until we get there.”
“I think the Russians did it, or China. A cyber attack or some EMP. We could be at war right now,” says the guy with the long beard and the tattered greenish ball cap to the group around a large campfire. Theo and Sarah sit amongst the ring of people, listening to the conspiracy theories and certainties.
“Bruh, did you see the Aura in the sky the other night? They aren’t lying.”
“They always lie.” The guy, a little intoxicated, maybe, waves his hand dismissively and leaves.
“Where you going?!,” another stranger yells.
“To take a shit.”
A middle age woman next to Theo and Sarah mumbles, “Fucking wacko.”
Several people nearby chuckle. They know what he espouses isn’t true, but they also aren’t certain yet what they really believe, and the worries they carry make their lack of certainty feel heavier than usual.
Theo taps the woman on the shoulder. “What do we know?”
“It's a least another week here.”
“Is there enough food?”
The woman nods her head. “The local rangers have been rationing out whatever supplies were at Rock Harbor. They’ve also been fishing.” She looks at Theo and takes measure of him. “They need volunteers.”
“Sure. I’ll help.”
Sarah leans over and joins the conversation. “Have they heard any reports from the mainland?”
“It's a mess, but not the apocalypse. Powers out across most of the country, but they are working to restore it. Most other things work if they have power. I think cell service is still down.” She pauses for a moment and looks at both of them. “At least that’s what I overheard.”
Theo looks at Sarah. “Doesn’t sound too bad.”
She replies tersely, “We’ll see.”
Without Wings
Kaito drifts in a deep blue ocean. There is no way to gauge the distance to the surface or the bottom. He doesn’t breathe or scream. He just watches. A giant blue whale glides past him, not more than twenty feet away. The magnificent living giant makes him feel small, but he isn’t afraid. In fact, this is the most at peace he’s ever felt.
The saltwater makes him weightless. Its temperature so close to that of his own body that he isn’t sure where he begins and it ends.
A calf emerges from behind the tail of her mother and swims even closer to him. Kaito reaches out his right hand. His fingers gracefully slide down the calf’s skin as it slides past him. He can feel the clicks and sounds of their communication. The wavelengths pulse through him like a drum head. He closes his eyes and lets go of himself.
His body, caught in a current, is launched forward. He can feel the resistance of the seawater as it tries to hold him in place. The speed of his movement increases. He opens his eyes, only to find they are still closed, or at least it looks like they are.
The blue whale and its calf are gone, as is the deep blue sea. All that lay in front of him now is darkness. So black he can’t see the hand he waves in front of his face. Does he even have a hand? His eyes squint. A tiny white pinprick appears in his vision. He blinks. It appears slightly bigger. He blinks again. He has no doubt it is growing. It dawns on him. He is in a tunnel, and at the end of that tunnel is the light. The beam of which illuminates him.
He still is a body. Kaito doesn’t remember anything before, so he can’t guess what is about to be. He only feels waves of emotion wash over him and bury themselves deep within his bones. They crash into him like the swell of a storm.
The light is large now.
Within minutes, he will be engulfed in its purity, perhaps forgotten and lost in time and space. He opens his mouth to scream, but not even bubbles come out.
Kaito slams into the photons.
Low beeps and annoying chirps fill his ears. A chill rolls across his skin. His eyes open to a white and blue room. A hospital room. The beeps are his heartbeat on the monitor and the chirps from a machine that dispenses specific dosages of medicine through his IV. His left leg is in a cast, and so is his right hand and wrist. He is drowsy and feels his senses dulled by drugs, underneath it is pain.
Memory returns to him.
Moments before the crash landing and hours before that. A time spent with family in Okinawa. His childhood home.
Is he the only survivor?
A young nurse walks in. She doesn’t even notice Kaito is awake as she checks his IV.
“How many…” he whispers, his voice scratchy and weak.
The nurse startles and quickly bows. “I’ll go get the doctor.”
“How many…survived?”
Her face scrunches with uncertainty. She stammers. “I-I don’t know. I-its…I-I’ll get the doctor.”
Kaito reaches out with his hand, but she is gone, and he is alone again.
The doctor rambles a lot. He goes on and on and on. Kaito dislikes rambling. He likes simple, clear answers. Anything else is wasting precious time. Even though he is stuck here, he can’t help but feel time is wasting away.
Fifty-percent. That’s the death rate.
Bill and Lee are among the deceased. Most have been identified. Kaito doesn’t care what else the doctor says. Lee was a good friend and a better partner to fly with than most. He now feels bad about the way he feels about Bill.
His mind discovers positive attributes he may have missed, like there is no other possible reaction to death than thinking about all the good that once existed in the one who once lived. He turns his attention back to the doctor. “Commercial flights will be postponed for quite some time. Currently, all pilots and air personnel are helping with recovery and supply efforts across the nation and the world. Perhaps, if you fully recover in time, you can also help.”
Kaito nods.
“Could I do anything else for you, Mr. Nakata?”
“No, I’m fine.”
The doctor bows and exits. Kaito looks up and notices the tiny fragments of the drop ceiling that have broken. Jagged flakes and tiny segments now lost in the corner of the room or sucked up in a vacuum—pieces that were once part of a larger whole, unable to be put back together again.
He thinks about flying. A wave of anxiety wells up from within him. A pang of pain reminds him of his hand breaking against metal and glass as the soil and plant matter smashed into the cockpit like a rogue wave. The pace of his heart quickens. He can’t breathe.
The drug machine kicks on and gives him relief. As his heart settles, his mind drifts into a new dream.I’ll never fly again.