Free Under a Broken Sun by Kevin P. Sheridan

Marilyn announced.  Her Dad shot a look at me.
    “Well, I suppose I must thank you for that,” he said as he rummaged out a syringe and needle from his briefcase.  “But you keep to yourself.  Marilyn knows we have strict rules about dating, don't you young lady?"  Young lady?  Marilyn was my age, maybe even older.  And dating?  Seriously?  Did they even know what was going on?  Was he really worried I'd try to bang her in the backseat of my car?  A forest, maybe, but not a car.
    Marilyn nodded, looking at the floor, and mumbled a "yes sir".  She'd turned into an eleven year-old.  Her father noticed her arm, still wrapped in a bandage.  “Did you cut yourself again?”
    Marilyn nodded again, like a little girl reproached by her father.  Her mother chimed in to me, “She’s so clumsy when it comes to scissors.  Cuts herself all the time, poor girl."
    I pulled the sleeve of my sweatshirt down, making sure none of my scars showed.  Didn't want anyone to know I was "clumsy" too.
    A quick injection and Ashley sucked in the air through gritted teeth.  “There,” Del said.  “That’ll numb the area.  Now let’s get those pellets out.”  He pulled out a long tweezers-like thing and started digging.  Ashley fell asleep.  As Del pulled out a ball he dropped it into a paper cup Madeline put next to him.
    “She was shot,” Del said, digging up the third bloody buckshot. 
    “Yes sir,” I said, trying my best to be professional and polite.
    “Why was she shot?”
    “There’s a lot of strange people out there right now, sir,” I said.  In case you didn’t notice, dipshit, something seriously fucked up is going on.
    “Yes, I suppose there are.  Especially now.  The Devil has made himself known.”  He dropped the last of the buckshot in the cup.  “There, that ought to do it.  I’ll patch her up but she’s going to be quite sore for a while.  Some of those buckshot got to her muscles.  Now come on in to the kitchen and tell us what you know.”
     
    Ashley slept hard while Madeline poured tea from a cast-iron kettle that she heated over the wood-burning stove.  Another set of candles crowded the center of the kitchen table, and Marilyn rarely looked up at while her father grilled me questions.  I told him about the plane crashes, the power, and the scene at the airport.  He just nodded while Madeline gasped and said “my heavens” about a thousand times. 
    Then he went silent.  Finally he said, “What do you think caused it?”
    “Solar flare,” I responded.  “My dad sent me a note that I was able to print out.  It explains it all and what we need to do to survive.  I’m meeting him in Chicago and then-“
    “Your father’s wrong.  It is the day of judgment.”
    Aw hell no.  Not again.   I had no response to that.  Silence floated between us like a cloud of noxious gas.  Marilyn whispered “Daddy, please don’t.” 
    But he didn’t listen.  He leaned forward onto the table, folding his hands.  “Who is your father?” he asked. 
    I paused.  “Dr. Roger Dawson.  An astrophysicist.  He’s been studying this-“
    “I know who he is,” Del’s gaze grew stronger and made me look away.  “Thought he disproved the existence of God.  Of Heaven.  What does he say now?”
    “I don’t know.  I haven’t talked to him,” I said, looking down.  I could feel anger boil inside me like the water in the teapot.  I needed a cut or I was gonna explode.  I stood up, “We better go,” I said. 
    He grabbed my arm as I went past.  “You can’t leave, Ashley is too weak.  She needs her rest.” 
    “She’ll be ok,” I said. 
    Madeline chimed in, “Adam, he’s right.  Let her sleep.”
    “Then I’ll go alone!  It’s not going to be safe to travel during the day anymore.  The night provides cover and cooler temperatures.”
    “Cover from what?” Del asked.
    I swallowed it all.  From folks like you.  From the crazies that are out there.