Eleven Hours

I remember the night arthropods invaded; the satellite's grainy projection flickered across the sky, depicting their first attack. Like distant stars, tiny pinpricks of light dotted the map, multiplying and growing brighter, then burning out in a final flicker. Eastern Europe has disappeared into darkness. The shock sends adrenaline coursing through my veins, propelling me into a state of panic.

From within the shadows, meows echo through the street. I climb onto a balcony to get higher, hoping to find my missing feline Mimi before they attack us next. On the second floor, a dog with a speaker crudely sewn into its chest catches my eye; the piercing ring of its alarm bell slices through the silence. The poor dog, its ears flattened and tail tucked, seemed more frightened by its noise than by my presence.

I follow the dog’s wires through the balcony door, where two children sit huddled on a bed. Using a makeshift battery charger, they listen to the news report on their tablet. Empty food containers and broken electronics scatter the filthy room. At the table, I sit with them to learn what the reporters have to say.

“Allied troops landed in Russia yesterday, supporting efforts against enemy attacks. I regrettably report, total destruction of Eastern Europe has transpired in just the last twenty-four hours. Arthropod advances into the UK and up through Ireland sadly are unstoppable as military efforts have proven ineffective against the threats. Mass evacuation efforts are underway in major cities. Emergency shelter is limited. Authorities ask that people shelter-in-place below ground if possible. Expert arthropodologists claim although their origin is unknown, they appear to be constructed of translucent heat emitting light-rods. Attracted by sound, these arthropods multiply, forging into a heat mass, incinerating the surrounding area. The public should know…”

As the screen pixelates, the stream cuts out, and the reporter’s voice disappears into feedback.

“Lady, they’re coming, aren’t they? Dad fixed Buddy to alarm us when the attacks get close, but he’ll power down when our batteries die. What will we do then?”

“I’m not sure Buddy can help you, suffering like that. How could you do that to a poor little dog? Kid, it’s very possible we are next.”

“Dad says it’s the only way to know when they’re close.”

“Um, sure, that’s one way to do it.”

My back slowly inches toward the balcony. The strange hum emitting from outside is making my skin crawl. There is nothing I can do to help them.

Off in the distance, I see light glowing on the horizon. The arthropods are getting closer. Somehow, they’ve crossed the ocean. Suddenly, I feel the ground shifting beneath me.

“Hey kid. I would love to stick around, but I gotta find Mimi.” If I had to die, I wasn’t going without my cat.

Back on the street, people are fleeing in every direction, cars collide, and Mimi races across the street in a dash to evade the impending chaos. I zig and zag through the mayhem, dodging the others running for their lives. I temper my panic, trying to stay calm as I near her.

“Here Mimi kitty, pst pst pst.”

She lay beneath a stalled car, just as terrified as I, her body shaking uncontrollably with dread over the madness surrounding her. But as soon as I have her within my reach, the ground shifts again. With a fright, she runs out towards the street. I follow Mimi to a shop doorway where I corner her and gather her in my arms. Sharp nails dig into my back as she holds on for dear life. We bolt through the streets straight to my laboratory. Fires blaze and smoke fills the air.

Inside, I can finally exhale. I made it, and I’ve got my cat. A sense of unease soon comes over my body as the reality of my situation sinks in. Questions for which I have no answers plague my mind. Which end does my fate have in store? How long do I have? My thoughts race through all the possibilities, the solutions and probabilities until I realize the answers lie in my study.

Twelve hours of power remain. One line of faulty code stands between teleportation and certain death. My tele-vehicle, a work in progress, if you will, has been patiently waiting for this moment. I go to work immediately, brainstorming the algorithmic loop needed to get the heck out of New York.

Before long, I have convinced myself promising developments are underway. The destination base points are all aligned, and trajectory calculations determined and set. Mimi inspects every phase of the project, marking her approval with a purr.

Nearing the fifth hour, promise wains when all test runs fail. Hope is turning to despair as my situation turns grim and uncertain. Hours of failure weigh heavily as the ground shifts increase in strength and frequency. My sight grows weary and blurry from lack of sleep. I find myself and my efforts to be dwindling as time passes. With only four hours of power left, the generator blows a fuse, and all seems for naught. I tear and thrash through the laboratory looking for the spare fuse, setting aside a charging device, loose wire, and a speaker. Out of solutions, I know what I must do.

At the time it seemed insane, but Buddy’s alarm makes sense to me now. My situation, however, grows in urgency every second I waste. Surgery by dwindling light finds my heart heavy. I insert the speaker, taking great care she feels nothing. Petting her gently, I say my farewells, just in case. I believe her sacrifice could mean my survival. The last fuse lies in my hand. I know the odds are grim as the twelfth hour approaches. I must carry on.

With one hour remaining, Mimi’s alarm bell rings.

At last, all systems go. I step into the tele-vehicle, Mimi still warm in my arms.