TOXIC BLOODLINES 1/4

IT IS HAPPENING AGAIN

KIMBERLY

Three chaotic days had passed since the 'Angels fell from the sky.' That's what the people called it, Angels...of course. Everyone had wild theories about how astronomers could've missed it. More people shared their harrowing accounts, which only caused more confusion.

People demanded answers, but our mayor stuck to his statement. Some people said they saw three meteorites, some swore it was only one, and then we had the bible thumpers who took advantage of people's fear. They went door to door. 'Repent. Judgment day is coming; accept the lord into your life before it is too late.' Baba chased them away with a hose pipe.

The news had spread to the city by the fourth day, and our hidden world was soon overflowing with tourists. People just had to see it for themselves. The 'We've come here to help' kind of tourists. The outsiders wanted to take selfies in the worst-affected areas for their god-awful tragedy porn social media updates. We couldn't complain. We needed the help. Our saviors posed on piles of rubble, shovels, and trash bags in hand. Those people ensured they had enough dirt on their expensive jeans to say, 'I was there.' Apparently, our trauma was theirs too. I found the whole thing weird and intrusive. People died. Bodies were still washing up on the lake shore, but that didn't stop them from sensationalizing it. The long road that led to Paradise had to be closed because of them. The rescuers were still evacuating the few people living there, and the tourists were getting in the way.

The last time I spoke to Ian, he talked about how weird the site looked. There was no crater. He and Sara showed me photos of the old country club and the lumber factory... what was left of them. I didn't bother to ask how they managed to sneak past the blockade. I didn't want to know. The last I heard; the impact zone was radioactive. That was the warning we received, but the people of Seventh Heaven knew to keep their distance from Paradise.

Unlike the elders, the younger generation didn't care that much for the warnings. Paradise was our favorite attraction. It became a rite of passage to venture there and bring something back as a trophy. The brave souls who made the hour-long journey would have us gathered around a table as they described what they saw, what they heard, and what it smelt like. Most of them exaggerated because scaring the freshmen was a tradition. Ian even got the nickname 'The Ferry Man' because he'd charge people to take them there.

I, however, had no interest in ever setting foot in that place. I didn't go because the truth was scarier than any ghost story.

Most of the adults, Uncle Ahmed and Aunty Aminah, tense up whenever I ask them about what happened there. Uncle Ahmed had a burn scar all along his right arm; it used to be discolored and patchy when I was younger but faded with time. And Aunty Aminah always changes the subject.

By the end of the week, our commander-in-chief held a memorial service at the lake, but most of it was still closed off. It was a small gathering of a hundred people, and parking was free. Wow, so generous. I wasn't planning on attending, but Arik would give a speech on his team's behalf. I wanted to support him. Arik has a fear of public speaking.

The service started in the afternoon. Music and prayer circles. I felt awkward being there. It was so intimate. I sat alone on my blanket while they set up the stage. Arik was trying to convince his dad to let him wear regular clothes instead of the suit his dad wanted him to wear when he gave the speech. The man didn't look like he was going to budge.

Heat on the side of my face drew my attention. It wasn't from the sun. Someone was staring at me. I turned my head to my left. It was Nancy, the mom Sara had chewed out that day. She was giving me a rude stare with squinted eyes.