Judgement's Day

By RJGlynn

Choices. Life was about choices. Even when that life—all life—would end in less than a week.

After hours cowering inside a stormwater culvert, Indy Conroy took the hand reaching out to her in the evening darkness, that of Wyatt Devlin. Before this moment, she'd not have dared get so close to the third son of the notorious Devlin clan, even though they were neighbours. High fenced and patrolled by mean-faced dogs, the Devlin compound had loomed over her modest, weatherboard home for longer than her seventeen years. People called the Devlins "lunatics", and many claimed Wyatt, at eighteen, "hadn't fallen far from the tree"—the six-foot-four one of "total assholery" that was Bobby Devlin. Along with his father's intimidating height, Wyatt had inherited Bobby's dark crew-cut and army-surplus fashion sense. Cargo pants encased his long legs, and a multi-pocketed, camo jacket hung from his wide shoulders.

As did a hunting rifle.

Somewhere in the distance, revving engines and breaking glass soundedâ€"then gunfire, concussive and jolting.

Indy flinched. Looters had invaded her semi-rural, home suburb, having already burned down their own parts of the city. Some looked disoriented and desperate, but too many seemed out to make the most of the end of the world—even hurrying it along. Her hand shook as Wyatt's fingers folded around hers to pull her upright. Was she making a mistake trusting him? They'd shared classes until he'd dropped out a year ago, but she didn't really know him. What she did know was his family lived by their own rules—the main one "screw the government".

The men who'd broken into her home that afternoon had been the same, saying the only law now was their law.

She'd barely escape their groping hands.

Her head went light at the memory. The suburban gloom reeled, threatening to send her back down to sodden leaves and fast-food litter.

"Hey, hey." Wyatt caught her, his arm hooking about her waist. "No fainting like a wimp, Conroy. Carrying you would screw my aim, and there's a bunch of arseholes down in Mrs McCarthy's glasshouse who need to make a choice: leave other people's property alone or leave Sweetwater Lane in a bag."

Indy willed strength back into her limbs, but didn't pull free. Wyatt's hold felt solid, an anchor in her spinning world. But safety was an illusion. "We're all going to die." She met Wyatt's narrowed, impatient stare. "It doesn't matter how many tomatoes or medicinal marijuana plants anyone takes."

"Shit." Wyatt rolled his eyes. "Don't tell me you believe those NASA nutters? There's no space rock hurtling towards us, ready to vaporize our arses. Like Dad said this morning, those Yanks have their pointy eggheads too far up their arses. The globalists are paying the academic class to scare people—like during the 'plan-demic', when they conned people into getting the vaccine."

Indy stared, a lone, flickering streetlight carving Wyatt's sneer from the darkness—but also a faint scowl. For the first time in her short, never-to-get-any-longer life, she wondered how much he bought of his father's anti-vax, anti-government, conspiracy-mainlining madness. "I hope you really believe that—that there's no asteroid." She meant it. A day ago, people's insane ability to rewrite reality had frustrated her, like how they'd started to 'remember' the pandemic. Forget overflowing hospitals and morgues- the millions of dead: friends, relatives, nurses, and doctors. An ever-increasing number of people now believed it all a globalist-led psyop; that devious governments had used a "mild flu" to frighten people into accepting experimental, "untested" vaccine technology that secretly microchipped them to track them.

But none of that mattered anymore. People like the Devlins could spend their final days in ignorant bliss, living out their anti-establishment dreams as the laws and society they'd raged against collapsed around them.

A brief whistle interrupted before Wyatt could respond with more than a frown.

His father appeared from the nearby hedgerow, a rifle resting on one shoulder and grease paint striping his face. The glints of his eyes flicked her way before he focused on his son. "Good, you've found yourself a female to run the kitchen. Haven't found your mother yet, and your brothers are working up an appetite showing these welfare-bludging thieves the limits of their entitlement." He cut a look down Indy, still caught against his son's side. "You cook, girl, or you one of them females that wants to be a man? Pretty red hair like yours is meant to be long to entice a man into marriage. But no matter. Wyatt or one of his brothers will find a use for you, even if it's just heating beans."

"Dad." Wyatt winced, his grip on her waist tightening as she stiffened. "You cannot go on about entitled thieves in one breath, then talk about tying a girl to our stove the next. The Conroys have been our neighbours long as I remember. Just a week ago, her mother sewed up your foot after your nail-gun fail in the chicken coop. No one's going to be 'using' Indy for anything, so stop scaring her."

"She'll be coming home with us, and she'll be grateful for it." Bobby jabbed a finger at his son's face. "I've just come from the clinic on Main Street. Some hooligan took a bat to Rex Miller's knee. But there's no sign of your girl's 'Doctor Know-all', don't-need-a-man mother. Nor any of the other do-gooders claiming to serve the community- no open pharmacies, no first responders. Looks like all the high-minded have caught a case of 'weak knees' and evacuated. It's a bloody ghost town—though I did see Pastor Paul and his bible thumpers. They're running around like chooks claiming it's the damn Rapture, but are a bit confused since they're still down here with us sinners."

Wyatt bared his teeth. "No way did Doc Conroy leave without Indy. There'd have to have been some divine intervention for that to happen."

Bobby snorted. "Government likely gave the fool woman no choice. Been broadcasting all over riot-hit areas, promising evac to so-called Final Days Sanctuaries. They're pushing this asteroid bullshit hard- out to round up the 'sheeple' for more brainwashing, tracking them down with the vaccine microchips. That's why you, me, and your brothers are still walking free- no vax tracker." He narrowed eyes on Indy. "Best stick with us, girl. Your mother no doubt stuck you with the 'chipcine'. Only a matter of time before the G-men come for you."

"Are any left?" Wyatt looked down the darkened street, shouts and breaking glass sounding in the distance. "I've seen multiple empty cop cars, but no uniforms. Not even on dead bodies."

"The authorities are leaving us free-thinking folk to fend for ourselves." Bobby's eyes gleamed. "They'll be hoping we fight amongst ourselves and wipe each other out."

"Isn't that what you want- for government to stay out of your business?" Indy found her voice, bitterness turning it hoarse. "Too bad total anarchy is what you get when people live 'just as they please'."

Bobby patted the rifle resting on his shoulder. "There'll be no 'anarchy', girl, while good men enforce the natural laws of property and ownership. Don't you worry that plain, boyish head of yours. Wyatt and I will keep you safe from both the G-men and the—"

Something whizzed through the air, launched with a concussive crack.

Wyatt had her back down in the culvert's stagnant water before she could register what she'd heard—a bullet.

"Shit." Crouching low beside them, Bobby jerked his head at his son. "Go! Get the girl back to the compound. I'll deal with these entitled pukes. Fools think they're regular gangsters now there's no police to paddle their soft, pink arses and send them to taxpayer-funded counselling. 'Bout time they learned about real consequences."

Indy's pulse pounded as Wyatt dragged her away. Despair gripped her as she looked back; saw Bobby Devlin's shit-eating grin as he set his eye to his rifle's scope. She'd been right—about Bobby and the looters. The world was burning, but they were living their dream. With the next chest-punching retort of gunfire, she saw humanity's final days all too clearly: terror, blood, insanity.

She let Wyatt pull her away, but as they rounded the house at the end of the street, she jerked to a stop. There was no point running. "Wyatt, I've seen the asteroid collision simulations. It doesn't matter what we do. No one survives. We can only choose how—"

"Don't." Wyatt's grip on her hand turned painful. "Don't say it. Shit, even if the news is right about—"

"It is." She choked back the scream that came with that reality. "Forget your dad's conspiracies. The asteroid's hundreds of kilometres wide—a planet killer. We might get another few days worth living, but by the end of the week…"

"No." Wyatt dragged her into a one-armed hug. "The government wouldn't round up people if the world was ending, and Gran- everyone at her rest home—is just gone. Mum saw it herself—cold cups of tea, unmade beds. She went looking for your mother to get answers because ... damn it, Mum couldn't take another rant about '5G aliens' in our government."

"Your mum went to find mine?" Of the million queasy knots in her gut, Indy felt one loosen. Her mother, wherever she was, might not be alone. She and Mia Devlin had been friends since school.

Wyatt grimaced. "Mum knows where to go for the truth. Hell, she snuck me and my youngest brother to the clinic into get the damn jab. If your mother thinks the science geeks are right... Shit." His tall frame shuddered, his hold on her tightening. "Shit, Indy. Shit."

She hugged him back; flinched at another volley of gunfire. Down the street, Bobby Devlin's gung-ho threats rang out, their glee surreal- an all-too-tempting denial. "I really wish your dad, just this once, was right about- "

Tinnitus—a whine in her skull. Everything blurred. The world dissolved—and her bones seemed to disintegrate with it.

Then it reformed, glaring bright.

She found herself still wrapped in Wyatt's arms, but no longer on the darkened street. A massive dome of featureless white loomed around her, filled with people- their eyes mirroring her shock. Gunfire had rent the air seconds ago; now... An electric drone drowned people's whispers as they reacted to their surroundings.

"Greetings, Citizens of Earth," a melodious, female voice rang out across the vast space. "Welcome to the vessel Ark II, so named by the first of your kind to join us onboard. Many of you have family waiting outside the long-range transporter eager to greet you, but please note the operation to rescue life from your doomed planet is ongoing, and some of your species are yet to accept insertion of the nanotech locator required for teleportation. Your unsalvageable loved ones will be asked to reconsider, but we predict not all will choose to be saved, given your species' capacity for paranoid self-delusion. Our condolences. For now, please join other successfully salvaged humans in the reception hall, many from your local region."

One side of the chamber slid upward to reveal another vast space full of people- who broke out into shrieks and cheers. She spotted familiar faces from her community—including her mother's. Numb shock dissolved. She ran for her mother; heard Wyatt's hoarse oath as he spotted his own mum and his fourteen-year-old, younger brother.

Crying, Indy threw herself into her mother's embrace; held on for dear life. If this was a dream, she was never returning to reality.

Wyatt stumbled over to his family. "Mum? Tod? What the hell? Where are—"

Mia Devlin dragged her son into her arms, tears in her eyes, but also laughter. "It's aliens, honey. Been secretly working with the world's governments for years. Your father, bless his tinfoil hat, was right about those damn microchips!"