VORTEX – Chapter 1
Intro
Start reading VORTEX, a dystopian DISASTER novel set in a world where the apocalypse may already be unfolding unnoticed.
Chapter text
The glorious morning filled his room with the promise that special days bring. He yawned and cracked open an eye. The sun’s rays eradicated the darkness and shone on his finds from the day before—a glittering, mica studded rock and a strange plant with an even stranger insect in a sealed plastic cup. His mother’s remonstration about not waking his father flitted through his thoughts. He stayed in bed and shut his eyes tight. He tossed and turned as his thoughts filled with the possibilities of his birthday party and the additions to his collection. Scrunching his eyes tight, he pulled the covers over his head. His thoughts raced faster while the closeness of the air stifled. Clambering out of bed, he dressed in his favorite flannel shirt and jeans, and grabbed a worn leather notebook that lay next to his finds. He traced the dirt and water stains that marred the cover to the name, still legible despite the wear of constant handling.
Pastor Smalls.
A faded, silver line ran through Pastor. Handwritten with the same ink in block letters above the word Pastor was his name—Lenny. He chose the color because it stood out on the cover. He admired the journal for a moment. The cracked leather felt rough in his soft hands. He pulled it close as his chest swelled as much with pride as the intake of a deep breath. He relished the smell of nature that filled his nostrils.
“What will I find today, Pop?”
He looked out the window to make sure of the weather.
“Looks like a beautiful day.”
He crept along the hallway to his parents’ bedroom door and considered waking them, but thought better of it.
Pop needs his rest. His mother’s warning came to mind again. His hand rubbed his bottom at the possible result of opening the door. He made the short trip to the kitchen and laced on his boots. He left the door ajar and held the screen door as it closed to keep the noise down.
“Happy birthday to me,” he murmured and raced off into the woods behind the house. The quiet of cut grass underfoot turned to the crunch of dried leaves and loose dirt. He ignored the area nearest the house—its mysteries uncovered long ago—as he scanned the trees. His pace slowed as the distance from the house increased. He frowned and stopped.
“I could have sworn it was right here.”
Arms akimbo, he turned until he had completed a full circle.
“All these trees look the same today.”
He scratched his head and looked up, down, and around. “Probably some stupid squirrel got it.”
He sighed and opened the notebook. Notes and sketches of leaves and plants, bugs, and animals filled the pages. Here and there, he’d pressed a specimen into the page when a drawing wouldn’t do. The splatter of insect innards looked more like a test from an inkblot than a useful record. He found the page he sought and read.
The Mariposa lily is a species of flowering lily bulb native to the Western United States. This wildflower is found in dry meadows and woodlands at higher elevations. The flowers can be white or purple. Prefers a sunny location in moist to dry loams and rocky soils.
He looked around again. “Too many trees here. Must be farther along.” Resuming his walk up the hill, the trees loomed around him, hiding one of their own. “There it is,” he exclaimed as he snapped the journal closed and ran forward.
A small, dirty rag hung on a sapling about five feet above the ground. As he neared the rag, he searched the ground for his quarry. He approached a small purple flower and knelt next to it. He opened the journal and compared the information there to the flower.
“Flowers can be white or purple. Purple, check. Flower shape, cup, check. Number of petals, three, check. Leaves, grass-like, check.”
Satisfied with his assessment, he made a large check mark in the journal.
“All parts of the flower are edible—flowers, leaves, and bulb. The bulb tastes like a potato.”
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He considered the flower for a moment and fingered the leaves and soft, fragrant flower.
“Sure is a pretty flower. Doesn’t seem right to chew it all up, especially when there’s going to be party food later.”
Smiling at the thought of all the treats his mother would have for him, his stomach rumbled.
“You can wait,” he said as he patted his belly.
He gathered some small stones and made a pile next to the lily, then took a nearby stick and screwed it into the ground next to the pile of little stones. He stood back and evaluated the effect of the stones, stick, and rag.
“Should be able to find it more easily next time. Can’t wait to show Tony.”
Confident he marked the site well enough so he could return, he picked up his journal and searched for a new discovery. With a slow, methodical pace, he crawled, slithered, prodded, and poked every inch of ground in the area. Each chirp or scratch garnered his attention. When he found something interesting, he consulted his journal to determine what it might be. He scribbled. He drew. He edited. Before long, his stomach growled.
“Better go see what’s for breakfast. Momma might need help getting ready, too.”
As he made his way down the hill toward the house, he saw his father drive away.
“Pop?” he called. “Pop?”
As his father’s car disappeared around a curve, his hands found his pockets while his chin came to rest on his chest. A loud sigh escaped. He kicked at a stone and watched it roll a few feet down the hill. A high-pitched whine at his ear caused him to jump and brush away whatever had gotten too close.
“Just a stupid mosquito,” he laughed to himself.
He shook himself and resumed his trek to home and hearth. As he approached the house, a new smell caught his attention, different from the earthy harmony that had surrounded him through the morning. This new smell, warm and sweet, called to him, a siren’s song. His steps turned to find the source of this enchantment.
“Something smells good,” he announced as he entered the kitchen.
His mother stood at the stove, her back to him. “Just some sweets for your party today. Wouldn’t be right to let your big day come and go without some treats for you and your friends.”
“Can I have some now?” he asked.
“May I have some now?” his mother reminded.
“May I have some now?”
“Not until the party. There’s a breakfast sandwich here with your name on it though.”
Lenny’s countenance sagged, crestfallen.
“Come on over here. Let Momma give you a big hug on your big day. Better than any old treat any time.”
She sat on a stool so Lenny could sit on her lap. He put his head on her shoulder and chewed on the sandwich while she hugged him to her. The stool wobbled as she rocked him in her arms. The scent of baking—sugar and vanilla—mingled with her warmth as he snuggled close.
“When you were a baby, you used to perch on my shoulder just like you are now. I would sit on this stool and hold you for hours, light as a feather. I would sing to you. Do you remember?”
“Yes, Momma.”
“Hush-a-bye, baby, on the treetop. When the wind blows, the cradle will rock,” she sang.
“I remember, Momma. But I’m not a little baby anymore.”
“You are a big boy now. I can barely hold you on my lap to give you a hug. But no matter how big you get, you’ll always be my baby boy.”
“Maybe you should have Pop fix the stool so it doesn’t wobble.”
“And not be able to rock you? I like it the way it is.”
“I love you, Momma.”
“I love you, baby boy.”
The doorbell rang.
“That must be your friend, Tony. He’s always early. Must like you a lot coming over early.”
“He’s my best friend.”
“I thought I was your best friend.”
“Oh, Momma, you know.”
She shushed him, smiled and hugged him again. “I know I’m just your Momma who loves you. You better go get the door. Don’t you keep your best friend waiting. You boys can go play in the back while I finish everything up for your party today. I might even let you and Tony have a cookie if you’re ready for the party on time.”
Lenny smiled at the thought of an early snack, then furrowed his brow. “Will Pop be home for the party?”
“Your father will be here. He knows this is your big day and wouldn’t miss it. Church services need to be led, but his son only turns ten once. You’ll see.”
The doorbell rang again. Lenny stood. His mother looked at the timer on the oven and picked up the streamers that were on the counter.
“You better go tend to Tony before he gets tired of waiting on you and breaks down the door. I’ll put these streamers up and finish getting ready. Be back here in an hour. If I need you before then, I’ll call you.”
“Ok, Momma.” Lenny went to the door and took his friend around the house. “Tony, wait until I show you what I found this morning. Let’s go.”
The boys raced up the hill to find Lenny’s discovery.
“Awesome flower, Lenny. We’ll have to protect it from the invaders.”
“Invaders?”
“Yup, invaders. The invaders want to take everything awesome for themselves. My dad says we have to protect our country and all the awesome things we have from the invaders. We have to stop them. Set up the perimeter.”
Lenny caught on and replied, “Sir, yes, sir.”
“Our pledge, Sergeant.”
The boys recited the mantra Tony’s father had taught them.
“I volunteered to fight the invaders, fully knowing the hazards. I will do right and stay strong. I will do more than my share of work, however long it takes. I will never fail.”
The boys stood back-to-back around the flower. Tony announced the arrival of the alien invaders. They both made shooting noises. Each called out or pointed in turn with gleeful shouts of imaginary combat. When one’s opposition got to be too much, the other would come to his rescue and throw an imaginary grenade or fire a missile to thwart the enemy’s ceaseless numbers. Just when it seemed that all would be lost, Tony saved the day with the super death ray. With one blast, this miracle weapon vaporized all the invaders. Lenny and Tony bumped forearms and high-fived each other in celebration.
“We did it. And that death ray…wow,” Lenny said.
Tony grinned. “I saw it in a movie last night. It was awesome. Worked really good here too.”
With the battle over, Tony dug the lily from the ground. “That was quite a fight. Let’s take this to your mom. It’s real pretty. She’ll like it. Be a nice way to remember our victory, too.”
“I think we’re late. We’d better go,” Lenny advised.
Lenny and Tony hustled to the house and into the kitchen.
“Momma, Momma, look what we found. Tony, show Momma what you got.”
Tony held the beautiful purple lily out in front of him and searched for Lenny’s mother, a self-satisfied grin on his face.
“I don’t see your mom,” Tony said as he turned to look at Lenny.
“She’s always in the kitchen, especially on party days,” replied Lenny. “Momma? Momma? Where are you?”
There was no reply, only the dull thrum of the oven heating. A burned smell hung in the air.
“Something’s burning,” said Tony.
“Pop?” Lenny called.
Nothing.
“I better check the oven. Momma might be getting ready and forgot something.”
Lenny turned the corner of the kitchen island and saw a red streamer hanging to the left of the doorway to the hall. As he moved toward the oven, the legs of a stool on its side came into view. Lenny forgot the oven and slowed down as he peered into the hallway from the kitchen. His mother lay on the floor. She faced away from him with her head at an odd angle against the wall, her legs and arms splayed apart.
“Momma? Momma? We got something nice for you, Momma,” Lenny shouted. “Are you all right, Momma?”
There was no answer. Lenny knelt next to his mother. Tears welled in his eyes.
“Get up, Momma. Momma? You said you’d call me if you needed me. Wake up, Momma. Come see your new flower. Momma!”