Free The Perseid Collapse by Steven Konkoly Page A

Take a look. It’s un-fucking-believable,” said Ed, backing away to make room at the window.
    “Language,” Samantha warned.
    “Sorry about that.”
    “I don’t care,” said Daniel.
    His daughter Abby, who had moved to another window, said, “Neither do I.”
    “Well, I do,” insisted his wife.
    “Sounds like you’ve been outvoted,” said Charlie, turning his attention to the scene beyond the window.
    Samantha glared at Charlie. “This isn’t a democracy.”
    “Neither is my house—holy shhhh—moley!” said Charlie. “The whole fu—farping neighborhood is fu—fragged to shhhhmeg. Damn it. Can’t they just plug their ears?”
    Both of the teenagers laughed nervously.
    “Can’t you complete a sentence without ten expletives?” said Samantha.
    “Not under these circumstances,” he said, turning to face them.
    “Look at that,” Ed said, pointing out of a window on the other side of the room. “Water is gushing out of the Fletchers’ windows.”
    “The water’s coming out of the top of the windows,” said Samantha.
    They looked fearfully at each other and nearly collided running for the bedroom door.
    “Shit,” Samantha mumbled, peering around the corner of the door.
    The swirling water had climbed three-quarters of the stairway, passing the first floor ceiling level by a few inches. The volume of water pouring into their house through the wide opening created by the shattered slider door couldn’t empty quickly enough through the windows. Ed wondered how high the water would rise within the house. He knew logically that the house couldn’t fill up to the attic like a container, but seeing this frightened him on an instinctual level.
    “Shit, indeed,” he said.
    “I’d throw a few f-bombs in there for good measure, but the good lady strictly forbids it,” mused Charlie.
    “I think the language restrictions have been temporarily lifted,” said Samantha. “Are we safe in the house, Ed?”
    “As long as it doesn’t collapse, we’re totally fine—not that we have any other options. The water will start to go down in a few minutes. You’ll see. I bet your house is doing a lot better, Charlie. Only the right side was exposed directly to the surge. Probably pouring in the windows, but not sweeping through like a freight train,” said Ed.
    “I hope you’re right, not that it really matters,” Charlie said ruefully. “We’re all totally screwed.”
    “How does a tsunami fit into your EMP theory? Can’t offshore earthquakes cause wind gusts?” asked Ed.
    “I don’t think so. Maybe the Chinese threw a nuke at Boston and missed, blew up Cape Cod instead. Everything’s coming at us from the south. I think a ten-megaton bomb could cause a tsunami like this,” said Charlie.
    Ed shook his head. “You totally just made that up.”
    “It’s an educated guess. Sarah Quinn swears she saw a flash, then the wind. Now we have a tsunami? Something big hit us.”
    Ed had to admit that none of this added up. A sudden gust of wind powerful enough to knock out windows; electronics on the fritz; tsunami; possible flashes of light bright enough to turn night into day? Charlie was right about one thing: Whatever this turned out to be, they were most definitely screwed. And that was the least of their immediate concerns. Their daughter Chloe had just moved into an apartment on the outskirts of Boston College, with three other sophomores. Boston College was several miles from the coastline, which eased his fear of a tsunami reaching her, but now they had no way of reaching Boston.
    “I hope you’re wrong,” said Samantha.
    He looked over his shoulder and saw that she had started to walk toward the master bedroom. He caught up with her, and she stopped. He could hear her sniffling, trying to stifle the need to cry. He wrapped his arms around her stomach and pressed his chest into her back, kissing her ear.
    “It’s going to be fine, honey. We’ll figure out a way to get down there and bring