When Tomorrow Comes - Chapter 12
Later, Micheal moved through the neighborhood, making one more quick pass to make sure everyone made it inside before the debris shower started.
Though many of the houses in their neighborhood had basements, a few didn’t. Fortunately, most basement owners had been eager to invite cellarless neighbors to spend the evening with them. . He didn’t blame them; the extra company would be a comfort. By the time Micheal’s family volunteered there was no one left who needed a safe place to spend the night
It was nice to know his neighbors were so willing to help one another. In his line of work, he often saw the worst of people. It always warmed his heart when he saw the better side.
Micheal’s gaze turned to the sky. The sun sat lower on the horizon now. The storm would be here soon. Tension made knots in his shoulder muscles.
Tonight the world would reap a harvest most of them had not planted. The actions of a few would mean the destruction of many.
Space had been pristine for centuries. But not after man had figured out how to plant his flag up there.
Like spoiled, messy children they’d left their trash behind mission after mission. Now space was so thick with garbage, it jeopardized future space flights.
Micheal shook his head. Where had they thought all that litter would go?
And they called the stuff space debris—like somehow man had nothing to do with it.
Figure out how to do it right, people—then do it.
The inspection of the neighborhood satisfied Micheal—his neighbors were all tucked in, and he headed back home.
He or Simone already double-checked every survival item they owned and then some. Everything looked as good as possible thanks to his regular rotation of batteries, food, and the like.
A heaping pile of kid’s stuff stood in one corner of the basement. Most of the children’s things had sentimental value more than anything else, but some things would be useful—even necessary. Hiking boots, outdoor clothing, and even playing cards, to name a few.
To ask anyone, especially a young person, to pack their top items in less than two hours was hard. They’d done well.
One of Micheal’s top items was his weaponry. As a police officer, it was a necessity. He was always careful with his use of a gun, but often just the presence of one was enough to command authority. That could be critical in the near future.
He had his official weapons, a Glock 22 and a SIG Sauer P229. And if the food situation went bad, he also had his own hunting rifles. Everyone in his family understood how to handle those guns.
He reassured himself that his family was as prepared as humanly possible for whatever the evening—and the future—brought them.
As he walked up his driveway, Micheal inspected the plyboard that covered the windows of his house. While they would do nothing for a direct hit, they might protect the windows from small debris.
A glint in the sky caught his attention. It wasn’t a plane—they’d been grounded since the broadcast, if not before.
It could only be one thing.
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