Thursday May 4 – Ben – Osage Beach, Mo

12:12am

Only one local news channel is still broadcasting. Just one anchor offering erratic conjecture about what’s going on. I’m sure she’ll say sayonara and hit the road pretty soon, too. All the cable news channels are off the air. I guess those roaches in New York City and LA have scattered.

The president hasn’t addressed the situation yet, either. I’m sure he’s safe and sound. That was sarcasm. We’ll probably never hear from that joker again.

No updates on either AM or FM radio. Just static or filler music.

As usual, social media is belching out its garbage. I’ll go over some of the bullshit those morons are saying later. Even with the obvious looking them in the face, it seems nobody wants to talk about the truth of what’s happening.

It’s been about twenty-nine hours. When the sun showed itself around midnight, the people around here lost their shit. I’m sure most have either left town or locked themselves in their safe spaces. Twenty-four hours later, the sun is still out and right above us. A whole lot smaller, too. Surprisingly, the temperature is holding just above sixty, but it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to realize it’s going to get cold. Not only that, the world is nearing the end.

Funny thing. I’m okay with that. When you don’t know anybody with an underground bunker and the media doesn’t give you any addresses to government bunkers, the acceptance stage tends to come pretty fast. I guess I could find a backhoe and start digging my own bunker, but I don’t think I have that much time. I’ll get around to checking out the caves in the area, but I’m sure they’re already taken.

Sure, I could run around like a chicken with my head cut off like the rest of the underprivileged, but where would that get me? I’m still in the same boat, but I’m well rested and have no worries in the world. I’m hoping most of the chickens leave or have left town so I don’t have to deal with any of their shit.

Those important chickens? You know them. The ones who run the states and the federal government? Well, I’d like a ringside seat to watch them put off the inevitable while doing time in underground coops of hard concrete and steel. I want to see them scurry to get their fill when the farmer throws out the daily ration of cracked corn. And when the supply gets low, I want to see the Great Chicken Revolution begin. Let them bare their spurs and watch the feathers fly.

Yep, the world is ending. I just said it out loud for the first time. Nope. Doesn’t bother me one bit.

How do I know the planet is doomed? Here’s my reasoning:

1. The bright thing in the sky keeps getting smaller and less bright, which means we’re in for a permanent cold winter. When an unprotected body gets far enough away from the fire on a cold night, it will eventually assume the temperature of that cold air. I don’t know a lot about space, but I do know it’s one big cold room and there’s good reason to think if things continue as they are, Earth will assume room temperature in the very near future. I’m kinda interested in seeing how long that takes. I might even try to find some videos of the experts’ hypothetical views on that to see if they were right. I don’t know how much longer we’ll have Internet, though.

2. I’ve been told no news is good news, but this time, we’re witnessing the exception. Since when did the brave journalists abandon their posts? Hell, many of them have followed soldiers into the front lines of wars. Even in those zombie movies, there’s news to report. Not a good situation for the chickens.

3. My ex-wife called. Sorry, that’s a joke. That whore is one of the chickens, I’m sure.

4. I took a stroll around town and found electronics store windows still intact. I guess nobody wants a flat-screen TV to watch the world end. No, the objects of the looting are food, fuel, and survival gear. The one battery store in town looks like a nuclear bomb hit it. It’s all out of juice. Ha. I’ll bet the coat sections in all the department stores are near empty, too. At least they’ll be dressed fashionable.

I have plenty of food and supplies for now. Cold weather clothing, too. If I get low on food, I’ll go hunting or fishing. Hell, there’s a giant lake full of fish right outside my door, at least until it freezes solid. Getting fuel from the gas station for my generator may become an issue, but there are plenty of abandoned cars and trucks around. Firewood certainly won’t be a problem. I can still keep the home fire burning. I don’t think we’ll last long enough to have to travel with horses and buggies again.

I might have to resort to writing on paper instead of this laptop, though. I’d better stock up on some pencils because I don’t know at what temperature ink freezes.

I’m going to scour social media for a while and get an angle on the latest.

Thursday May 4 – Janine – Press Secretary

2:37am

The administration has been in constant contact with NASA since they called us. What we’ve learned is so surreal and the ramifications haven’t registered with me even after more than a day. We had no choice but to abandon the White House.

Two things:

1. The president should have addressed the nation or at the very least allowed me to give a short speech.

2. I believe it was a mistake for the president to wait so many hours to leave, but he refused until he knew that all of our family members were accounted for.

I ushered the president and First Lady safely onto Air Force One at about 4:30 yesterday afternoon. I thought the rest of the entourage and our families would follow right away, but we waited until after eight for our military transport plane. We’re still in the air and the ride has been bumpy. I don’t know why it’s taking so long and I don’t know where we’re going. I assume we’ll wind up at a military complex somewhere out west, hopefully with the First Family. The pilot and flight crew haven’t given us any information on either our destination or why the ride is getting bumpier. It only adds to the unease.

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The whole situation is heart wrenching and every now and then, I hear someone sob in the back. At least I have Terrell and Serena at my side. I fear for Terrell’s parents, and mine, but there’s nothing we can do. They’re a thousand miles away.

Grace, my assistant, claims there are hundreds of underground safe spaces built especially for situations such as this. Like in the movies, she says. I don’t know how she knows this, but if that’s true, I wish there were millions, enough to hold the entire population. I look at little three year-old Serena and my heart aches for her. What kind of future lies ahead for her in some bunker? What about the rest of the children down below whose parents must be experiencing a panic I couldn’t even imagine.

The pilot just announced the plane is experiencing a mechanical issue and we have to land. Not good. I wish whoever’s sobbing in the back would stop. It’s upsetting Serena.

Thursday May 4 – Cass

3:12am

Still chugging along. It’s been about eighteen hours since last check-in. Some new information, but not a lot.

Unfortunately, the Earth’s current trajectory has dashed Dad’s one last hope. Neither Jupiter nor Saturn will grab us as we pass by because we aren’t passing by close enough. It’s safe to say that Earth will not be a member of the solar system much longer.

It’s still all so unbelievable to me. Less than forty-eight hours ago, I relished the thought of a grand future. Then the unimaginable happened (Robbie) followed by the incomprehensible. Sorry. I tend to dwell on things as a coping mechanism. I just needed to get that out for peace of mind. A brain in constant search for perspective doesn’t know how to compensate when bad shit happens all at once. I’m sure everybody on this runaway planet feels the same way. Can you blame me? Or them?

So where was I headed with this?

I spent sixteen hours in the Control Center where the shrugging and head shaking of brilliant people did nothing to instill in me a smidgen of confidence. They’re as helpless as everyone else on this rogue planet. All they can do is analyze data. Sure, they’ve figured out some important things with certainty, but their lack of getting their minds around what’s happening is hindering progress. These scientists can explain theories of dark matter with the same delight as a grandpa who reads “The Night Before Christmas” to his grandkids.

We’re not spouting theory anymore, though. This is real world stuff. Runaway world stuff. “Get past the shock” was all I kept wanting to tell them, but I realized nature has to take its course. I think they’ll come around sooner than later. They haven’t even called for another meeting to bring the others up to date. I don’t think anybody wants to know yet. They all stay in their rooms.

I feel bad for Dr. Petrick. He’s the only one who’s trying to stay focused. It’s strange that I, an eighteen-year-old woman, have actually accepted more than the experts have. I think Robbie has, too. Maybe it’s our immaturity. Btw, he tried more than once to engage me in conversation, but I rebuffed him every time. I’ll warm to him soon enough, but I’m not going to let him smooth talk his way back to me so fast just because our options are now limited. Nope. Not yet anyway. We have time. There’s hell to pay first. I wonder where Miss Crab Nebula is. Okay, enough.

How can I tell I’ve accepted whatever fate lies ahead? My insides are mushy fear, but my mind is numb. I’m no longer in a state of puzzlement. I’m no longer asking why. I’m asking how, but even that’s waning. Strangely enough, an inkling of hope still resides somewhere in the back of my mind. Whatever. I’ve had feelings like that before. I did with Robbie before yesterday, but… Ugh!

So here’s the latest:

Seeing the latest raw images from global telescopes and performing triangulation, Dr. Petrick calculated that we (from now on, ‘we’ will mean Earth and every living creature on it in this context) are currently well past Mars distance from the Sun. Yep, just zooming along. By six or seven this morning we will be at Jupiter distance. Again, you read that right. We’re moving at half the speed of light and still gaining speed.

You’d think Mars would be bigger than our moon in the night sky, but it’s not. We’re actually farther away from Mars than we are in our regular orbit. That’s because Dr. Petrick found that we are below our normal plane. He guessed our current trajectory at somewhere between 80 and 90 degrees away from the sun. Almost straight down. Earth is still rotating on its axis like normal so whatever light the sun offers from here on out will only hit the northern hemisphere.

Currently, the amount of sunlight reaching us is about six percent of what we normally get. That means the entire northern hemisphere is bathing in light a little brighter than twilight.

So what happened? The consensus thus far is that a passing object took us along for a ride. It would have to be a giant object, but it’s about the only thing it could be. With the southern hemisphere in total darkness, they’re using telescopes aimed in the direction we are heading, but they haven’t found it yet. Before long, they’ll be able to use telescopes to look back in the direction of the sun. If we didn’t see the object when we were much closer to the sun, I don’t see how we could detect it now. What else could it be? And how did we miss it?

Earth hasn’t jettisoned any of its junk yet. The moon is still with us. Satellites are maintaining their orbits and communications are still up like any normal day. You’d think with how fast we’re going, we’d shed that stuff behind like a drunk throwing an empty beer can out of a speeding car, but gravity is holding down the fort. So far. That’s good because there are three astronauts stationed on the ISS. Imagine just floating away out of orbit. Is there even a plan to get them home? Think about it, Cass. With all of the panic caused by this, who’s going to stick around and man the Control Center in Houston? Maybe NASA has its own underground facility. The employees there have families to worry about just like us. Either way, I’ll be keeping track of those poor souls on the NASA website.

Some scary thoughts:

Is there a certain speed that will force Earth to jettison everything, including us? Are we going to be left floating out in a sea of darkness like the passengers on the Titanic? I’m afraid to ask Dad and put that in all of their heads.

Does our speed create any friction or drag on our atmosphere? Is that thin layer of life wasting away faster than we’re cooling? Will our oxygen just leak away into space before it freezes in the impending extreme cold?

Einstein proved that objects approaching the speed of light gain infinite mass. How much did Earth’s mass increase at half the speed of light? Why hasn’t our gravity increased? Will our bodies liquefy and plaster to the floor at some point? Will Earth’s surface collapse under its own weight? Mountains crumbling? Earthquakes? Sinkholes?

Ugh. I don’t want to think about it, but I can’t help it.

Will the planet collapse into itself like a supernova? Will it become a black hole? Or will the black hole come first?

If gravity increases, will the moon come crashing into us?

What if whatever is pulling us stops abruptly? Will we be hurtled directly into it?

Here I am thinking about these scenarios when I don’t even know how long the electricity or food will last. Stop thinking entirely, Cass!

Oh, one more thing: The temperature has only dropped seventeen degrees. I guess that’s good.

Screw this. I’m just going to lie here and pet Holly for a while. And try not to think.

OMG! Gary is texting me! How the hell does he know I’m at the observatory?