Wormwood, Stacey Doss [free ebook reader for android .TXT] 📗

Wormwood
The bright sunlight beamed in my window, and I rolled over to face my bedroom door. I wasn’t ready to get up. I loved sleeping in, especially when I’d been up late reading. I buried my head under the pillow, trying to block out the brightness. I had a pounding headache from reading so late.
My door slammed open, making me jump. I groaned as my annoyingly enthusiastic brother hollered, “Wakey, wakey! Time to get you lazy butt out of bed, Jen!”
I tightened the pillow over my head. “C’mon, Jen. It’s after ten. Hey, I just rhymed!”
“Go ‘way!” I growled as I threw the pillow at him, my eyes still tightly closed.
He laughed and tossed the pillow back. “Get up and make me, Munchkin!”
I hated that nickname. It was okay when I was four, but I made mom and dad stop using it by the time I was eight. Not Ben, though. He used it at any opportunity. I think he lived to torment me.
I rolled out of bed. “Okay, Benji. I’m up. Happy?” I saw him twitch at his least favorite nickname. Two could play this game.
“Of course!” he replied as he strutted out the door.
I plopped on the edge of the bed and held my head in my hands. My headache was definitely getting worse. I creeped to the bathroom and downed four ibuprofen.
By the time I’d showered and dressed, the ibuprofen was kicking in and the pain was easing. I shuffled down the hall. My parents were in the living room, focused intently on the t.v. I dropped onto the couch next to mom. “Whatcha watching?”
Dad shifted in the recliner. “There’s some big meteor that exploded over the ocean this morning. It’s been all over the news the last hour.”
“Cool! Did any hit the water?”
“A small portion. Not enough to make a tsunami, though, fortunately.”
“That’s good. Too bad they couldn’t get a piece of it though,” I responded.
“Yeah. It’ll be all over the news for the next couple of days, then people will forget it.” He clicked the remote off then climbed out of his chair.
“At least it hit the ocean, and not a populated area,” said mom as she rose from the couch. “There won’t be any damage or deaths from this one. Hungry, Jen?”
“Yeah. I thought I’d grab a bowl of cereal, since it’s so close to lunch time.”
“You really need to stop reading so late, Honey. School’ll be starting in a few weeks and you’ll need to get up earlier, you know.” She rubbed my cheek as she walked past. I don’t care how old I got, I’ll always love her caresses.
“I know, mom, but I got to a good part and couldn’t put it down.” I followed her into the kitchen and grabbed the cereal.
“The world could end and you’d miss it buried in a book.”
I laughed. “Where’s Ben?”
“He ran over to Mark’s. Apparently they got a new car, and you know Ben…”
“Yep, he loves cars.” I went back to the couch and turned on the t.v. They were still talking about the meteor, so I watched. Space fascinated me and I wanted to go into astronomy when I started college next year. Now my brother, on the other hand, could care less about the stars. It was almost the only thing we haven’t shared since birth. He was totally in mechanics, and had wanted to start his own garage since we were six. How he could make sense of all the hoses, gaskets, and whatnot that made up engines I will never know. Me, I was lucky I could even put a car into drive and keep it on the road. Give me a list of stars’ names to memorize, and equations measuring the distance the nearest galaxy is, and I’m in hog heaven.
The news was reporting that there was some freaky cloud of gasses that came from the explosion, and that we could expect some weather and temperature changes similar to an ash cloud from a volcano. Since we lived on the coast, we would most likely feel the effects, but it shouldn’t cause too much disturbance, according to their scientists. The cloud would dissipate within a week or so, they estimated. I scarfed down the rest of my cereal, wanting to run to my room and do some calculations to estimate when we would see the “ash.” “I would need the coordinates where the meteor exploded, the air speed and direction, the altitude of the explosion…” I mumbled as I returned my bowl to the kitchen. “Plotting some world takeover, Sis?”
“No, just some calculations. So, how’s the car?” He followed me to my room, rattling on about the number of spark plugs, the size of the engine, the fact that the engine had to be tipped sideways in order to fit, yada, yada. I forgot about the meteor while listening to Ben expound on the virtues of this whatever make and model vehicle it was.
That week was pretty boring. Neither one of us worked, because mom and dad wanted us to be able to have fun and enjoy our last summer of freedom before we graduated, so we piddled around the house, played ball, roamed the beach, or hung out with friends. Like dad predicted, the meteor was out of the news within a couple of days, when it seemed as if the cloud wasn’t affecting life as much as they thought it would.
The following week, news was circulating that there were some dead fish washing ashore. At first it wasn’t a big deal, because there’s always something dead washing up somewhere along the miles of sand that line the U.S. side of the Atlantic Ocean, but when piles were coming in with the tide, people started to get worried. By that time, the “Cloud” (that’s how the news referred to it) was dimming our light a bit. To me, it was almost a relief, because it had been a record temperature summer, and we appreciated whatever shade we could get. It was so hot that the air actually smelled burnt, or something. It was almost nauseating.
It rained soon after, and we all ran out hoping too cool a bit. But the rain was hot, and it hit so hard it stung. Now, that wasn’t unusual for a summer rain, except that it seemed to leave slight reddened areas on your exposed skin. The news began claiming that the meteor explosion had caused a chemical reaction in the atmosphere and that the rain was now acid rain. We noticed a slight sulfur smell when the rain would collect in a puddle or some container. Even when the rain would stop, we could still smell sulfur, even in the house. Eventually, though, it seemed to go away. Phew!
Three weeks after the meteor, I found myself pre-occupied with school preparations. It was our senior year, and Ben and I were both excited. I shopped for clothes and books (of course!), and Ben shopped for a car. Dad had promised us a vehicle for our senior year, and of course Ben was picky. If it was left up to me, we would’ve had something by mid-summer. But here it was the week before school and we still didn’t have a ride. I was determined I would not ride the bus as a senior.
“Benny, Benny, wherefore art our car, Benny?” I quipped when he came home that night.
“Jen, don’t,” he mumbled as he brushed past me. He wasn’t his usual hyper self, and I stopped short.
“What’s wrong, Ben?” I asked as I grabbed his arm. He cringed and jerked away from my hand. I looked into his eyes. They were glassy and his face was slightly flushed.
“I think I’m coming down with something. I feel awful, and everything hurts, even my skin. I’m going to bed.” He trudged up the stairs.
“But you never get sick,” I protested weakly as I watched him walk away. I was always the sick one, from the time we were babies, I was in and out of the hospital with pneumonia, the flu (the true respiratory kind, not the run-of-the-mill stomach flu), and chicken pox. Ben had gotten all the healthy genes.
He didn’t come down for supper and mom and dad were worried. Mom kept running up to check on him throughout the evening. I even heard her mention to dad the word hospital, but from what I gathered, Ben was fighting that idea. I had even tried to see him after supper, but he groaned and ordered me away.
I woke up in the middle of the night to the sound of violent retching. I ran to the bathroom that Ben and I shared, but no one was there. I then burst into Ben’s room. He was sitting up in bed, covered in vomit and blood. I gagged. I don’t remember if I screamed or what, but the next thing I knew, mom and dad were shoving me out of the way. They tried using towels to clean him up, but finally had to put him in a tub. I’d never seen my dad look so old as he did trying to get my seventeen-year-old, six foot three, stocky brother to the bathroom as if he were two.
I lay in bed, tears running down my cheeks, praying that Ben would be okay. I must’ve fallen asleep, because mom woke me to say, “We’re taking Ben to the hospital. We’ll call as soon as we know anything, okay, Honey?”
“Is he going to be okay?” I squeaked.
“I’m sure he is, Sweetheart. It’s probably some nasty bug he’s picked up. I’d heard that some of his friends have been pretty sick lately, too.”
“Okay.”
“Don’t worry, Jen. We’ll be home before you know it.” She brushed my cheek. “Stay away from his room, though. I don’t want you catching it if it’s contagious. Dad and I will clean it up when we get back.”
“Okay. I love you, Mom.”
“I love you, too.”
She walked out the door and I stared at the blackness of the hall.
My brother died at 10:24 that morning.
Mom came home to tell me. I knew it was bad as soon as I saw her face. We both cried as she rocked me on the couch. She told me the hospital was full of people that were sick with the same thing as Ben, and that a few others had already died.
Later, the news was reporting an epidemic of sorts, with people falling ill all along the coast, and that boil orders were in effect because hydrogen sulfide had creeped into the water supply. The meteor was poisoning the water all around, for hundreds of miles; the ocean and even fresh water was no longer safe to drink. None of us realized the magnitude of the danger, simply because we got used to the sulfur smell from the acid rain, and didn't notice it in our drinking water.
Seafood was poisoned. The government finally put a moratorium on any and all seafood, after thousands had died from the violent vomiting that Ben suffered. Stores were stripping their shelves of everything that could even remotely cause sickness. Restaurants were closing because people were afraid to eat anywhere but at home.
The entire infrastructure of our town, and the East Coast in general, was failing. Businesses were closing. People were dying. The economy was suffering. Gas prices jumped to $6.00 per gallon, because there were less people to run the stations, and because the whole import/export system was shut down