Ablaze (The Dome Duet Book 1) Read online

  Ablaze

  Copyright© 2021 by Sadie Rose

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form by any means, including photocopying, recording or by information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locations is entirely coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademark status and trademark owners of various products, brands, and/or restaurants referenced in the work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  Cover Design: Christine’s Cover Creations

  Editor: Finishing by Fraser

  Proofreader: Erica H. Testani

  Formatting: Champagne Book Design

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Epilogue

  Note from the Author

  About the Author

  For my husband who tells me daily, he loves me.

  For my mother who tells me I can do anything I set my mind to.

  Pitch black.

  My eyes are wide open and adjusting to the darkness of night, but all I can see is blackness. There’s no light coming through the windows, and my clock is off; it’s not even flashing the annoying 12:00 a.m. due to the breaker tripping. Was it a noise that woke me up? I can’t figure out where the noise came from, and I don’t know if it’s because I’m still half asleep or if I was in a dream. I reach for my phone and the lock screen tips me off that something must be amiss. Instead of the time and my normal background image, I’ve got a not connected to the network message.

  I stumble out of bed and walk to the window. Moving my drapes back, I can see my reflection in the glass. I look tired with my thick hair hanging half out of its top knot, sweatshirt crumpled and sweatpants pushed up to my knees. I’m so pale that I look like a ghost in the darkness surrounding me. The solar lights on my sidewalk are the only glow that I can see on my street. My house sits on an angle which affords me a view of the bay. When I look down into the San Francisco Bay, all I see is darkness. Sporadic lights dot here and there but nothing like the usual nightlights of the city.

  I pull my drapes closed, and I make my way around the dark house to the kitchen so I can look out my back window. I can see the south tower of the Golden Gate Bridge from the window above my sink. It’s then that I realize I’m staring at more blackness in the night. I become increasingly alarmed. January has brought heavy rainstorms and high winds to the bay. Maybe that’s what caused the power to go out? I use the light on my phone to walk back to the front of the house to find the television remote. The news will tell me what’s going on in the city. I’m banking it’s been a windstorm or the usual low-grade earthquake that will wreak havoc on all our day. Now that I think of it, maybe that’s what woke me up to begin with.

  I press the power button on the remote and nothing happens. I turn the remote over, pop the backing off and roll the batteries. I press the power button again and nothing. I’m starting to get frustrated. I’m already tired, cold and now intrigued about the status of my lights and my phone. I walk to the breaker box and check my fuses. They are all in working order. I debate going back to bed, but I know I won’t fall asleep. I’ll just end up laying there staring at the ceiling. I go to my kitchen counter where I left my watch the night before, and it tells me it’s 4:44 a.m.

  I try my laptop, and it won’t connect to the internet. With no options of entertainment in the house, I put on my running clothes and lace up my shoes. I’ll start this year off productive by working out. I’ll even impress my family when I tell them I got up to do an early run before today’s predicted rain. Maybe they’ll even cheer on my enthusiasm. They’ll all be shocked that I was up before dawn. I shut my front door and lock it behind me. I secure the key around my wrist and draw my hood tight around my head. The wind is strong and threatening to blow it off.

  As I start to run downhill, I realize all the houses in my neighborhood are dark. Apparently, all of Russian Hill has lost their lights. I start making my way around the streets in search of a better view of the bridge. Surely they wouldn’t have drivers going across it in this darkness. In my short time living here, I’ve never seen the bridge’s lights off. But then again, I don’t just sit around and stare at it either. I’m sure they have a backup generator for storms and earthquakes.

  Runs like the one this morning help me learn the city and surrounding neighborhoods. When my parents bought me the house, I was overwhelmed. I had never lived on my own before, and here I was moving across the country, out of the Dome, to the west coast. I had just turned 18, and it was only my second time to the city when I unlocked the door to my new home. My parents told me it would be a learning experience. A good place to spend my year of self-reflection. They told me I would be safe here and that I’d meet new people and could figure out what I wanted to do with my life since I had decided not to go to college. I flew straight into the city and arrived a day before my things. The first night I slept on the wood floor. It felt like camping…or at least what I think camping feels like since I’ve never actually camped.

  It’s hard to believe that was six months ago. Half my year of reflection is gone, and I’m no closer to understanding what I’d like to do or who I want to be in this world. You should have seen the way my parents rushed me out the door and onto the plane. It was as if I was a criminal seeking asylum. I’d only left the Dome a few times growing up; it was always on Government sponsored trips from my parents work and usually to only surrounding areas in Virginia or Maryland.

  My parents were right though about it being a learning experience. I’ve learned I’m a loner. I have everything shipped or delivered into me. On my first outing in the city, everyone could tell I wasn’t from here. My accent quickly gave me away. I think I answered 20 times in a day, where are you from? When I’d respond to them the Dome, I’d get looks of disgust. I quickly learned to lie or not answer. I still get the question but not on these runs. No one bothers you when you’re running.

  I turn another corner and the sight of the bridge stops me dead in my tracks. Half of the bridge is gone, sinking into the bay and the other half is jutting out of the water. Car after car is piled up on the bridge. The lights from the cars are the only things that illuminate the scene. I hear an explosion far away, and the blast makes me jump. A car has caught on fire, the fuel leaving a fire trail in the water. For a second after the blast, I can see more of the bridge in front of me. Where are the police or the fire fighters? I don’t know if I should keep running or turn around. The bridge looks close, but it is far away. I wouldn’t be of any help, even if I ran all the way down to it.

  I start running further around the block, and my mind is made up for me by what I’ve seen. I must get home because something terrible has happened for the iconic bridge to be in such a state.
I look at my watch for a time check. It’s 5:15 a.m., and the sun won’t start coming up for at least another full hour. I begin to run as fast as I can toward home…my safe haven.

  As I’m running, I can hear more explosions, and the ground shakes beneath my feet. I’m running up hill as fast as I can, sweat pouring down my face matting my hair against my forehead. Pure adrenaline is what’s keeping my legs going. They’re tired, and I’m trying to cover too much distance in a short time. I can see my house, up the hill in the distance, which gives me some comfort. I sprint to my door and pull the keychain from around my wrist. I realize my hands are shaking as I try to get the key into my lock. I step inside and lock the door behind me. I feel safer now that I’m indoors. I need to find out what’s happening. This feels like a bad dream.

  I pick up my phone, and the message is still on display, Network Not Connected. I try the television and my computer once more. No luck, nothing is working. I’m racking my brain, trying to figure out what to do. Sunlight is starting to slowly creep up on the city so the house isn’t in complete darkness. What safety I felt in the house is starting to disappear with the tremors from the ground and the loud explosions going off in the distance. The television pops on and startles me with the emergency broadcast beacon. Illuminating the room in a yellow hue coming from the screen background. The beacon continues to beep, and the screen reads:

  Emergency

  Devastation sweeps the U.S.

  Residents encouraged to seek shelter and remain calm.

  That’s all I can read before the tv goes black again. The ground shakes so hard, photographs on my wall begin to crash to the ground shattering the glass on contact. Screw the message; I can’t remain calm. How can anyone remain calm through the tremors, let alone after reading that message. I need to get a hold of my mom. She can tell me what the hell is going on. How can I reach her with no phone or internet?

  The sun has come up, and I can finally see my neighborhood clearly and down into the bay. I feel like I’m going to faint, my nerves on edge and the adrenaline wearing off. I look out onto the bay, and fires are everywhere. Houses are collapsed and fire hydrants are shooting water straight up to the sky. I do a double take out the window. I think it’s starting to snow which I know for a fact is impossible here. I take a closer look at the falling pieces and realize it’s some type of grey ash falling from the sky. Now I’m completely coming unglued. There aren’t any volcanoes here. What can this be?

  I feel like it’s time to read the infamous letter my parents left me and open the mystery bag that accompanies it.

  Two months after I moved into my house in San Fran, I found a sealed letter at the bottom of one of my suitcases. It had a burgundy pouch attached to it and was addressed to me in my mother’s handwriting. On the front of the black envelope written in silver ink it read: Only to be opened in an Emergency. You will know the right time, Love Mom. I wanted to open it right then out of curiosity but knew not to. I knew to follow her instructions. Now, I know this is definitely the time to open it. I can feel it in my gut and, as the letter said, would know when the time was right to open it. I’m scared, alone and thousands of miles away from my parents and friends.

  I eye the fires in the bay, and they are burning wildly with no prospect of help coming on the way. I don’t understand where the police could be. Where are the firefighters? I’ve got to figure out what to do on my own. The fires are getting closer to my house. If the wind picks up or if they are left untamed, they will eventually arrive here. If only my phone or internet was working! I go into my bedroom, fling the doors open on my closet and grab my suitcase. I’ve kept the letter and pouch there since the day I discovered it. Out of sight, out of mind I told myself. I drop to my knees and run the zipper around the length of the bag, flip open the lid and pull out the letter. I lay the pouch to my side. I break the heavy wax seal on the black envelope and begin to read the letter inside.

  Sadie,

  If you are reading this letter, then we are in the new state of our world. We knew this day would come and wanted to try to keep you safe as possible on the other side of the country. We tried to do the right thing. Now is the time for you to be strong. You must get yourself to a safe place. Get out of the city and head inland. Go someplace that has always made you happy. Take only essentials. Pack anything you have that’s expensive like jewelry and things you can barter with. Get out of town as fast as possible and don’t trust or drink the water. Use the pills we have enclosed on water at all times. Do not trust anyone. The only person you can trust now is yourself. Remember your father and I love you.

  Love, Mom

  I stare at the letter, not believing what I’m reading but trying to understand. I have to read the letter again. How did they know this could happen and why would they send me so far away from them? What jewelry? The necklace they gave me? It’s only a small gold heart and wouldn’t bring much from a jeweler let alone on the street. I wear it every day and never take it off. I unzip the pouch and slide its content out onto the ground beside me. The light from the window hits the diamonds momentarily blinding me. Well, I guess this is what she meant by jewelry. The pouch is full of loose diamonds in various shapes and sizes, heavy bracelets and rings mixed among them.

  Underneath the jewels are small bottles of tiny orange pills. The pills are so small they are maybe one fourth the size of a dime. I read the small print on the bottle: one pill per eight ounces. Shake and wait 30 seconds before drinking. Whatever they knew, they knew it wouldn’t be safe to drink the water now. I sit on the floor until my legs feel numb. What had my parents never told me? It takes awhile but I snap out of my disbelief and get to my feet.

  I skip a much-needed shower because I’m unsure about the water. The letter didn’t explicitly say anything about using the water only drinking it but at this point, I’m not going to chance it. I change out of my running gear and into a pair of jeans and a sweater. I leave my running shoes on and comb my hair into its usual ponytail. Packing a small backpack with the pouch and the letter from my mother, I keep the pills in the pouch and grab a water bottle from the kitchen and some protein bars. I take a frame from my bed side that holds a family photo and an extra day of clothing. I have no idea how I’m going to get out of the city, but I must. My cell phone is useless, but I take it anyway and power it off to save what battery I have. I take one last look at my house and lock the door behind me.

  Outside, the smell of smoke is strong. The ash is coming down hard and reminds me of the beginning of a blizzard I experienced growing up. My garage door won’t open so I have to manually pull it open using the cord hanging in the center of my garage. I throw my backpack into the front passenger seat and start my car up. I’ve got almost a full tank of gas and, since it’s a hybrid, can also use the electric it’s got stored. I’ve only driven my car a handful of times so hopefully I can get out of the city. I back my car out of the garage and get out, pulling the garage door down behind me. I don’t see any of my neighbors out of their homes. I wonder if they are inside accounting for the damage or trying to find a way to get news. How many people were awake to see the announcement? Either way, I’m following my mother’s instructions. I’m trying to get somewhere safe out of the city.

  I start driving in the opposite direction of the Golden Gate. There is no way across that bridge, and my other closest option out of the city is the Bay Bridge; that will get me out of San Fran and access to mainland California the fastest. I speed down the hill and can see the damage done so far. Houses are on fire, and pieces of cement and drywall are all over the sides of the road. I’m paying careful attention to power lines as some look like they could fall to the ground any minute. Wires are down in places, and I throw all caution to the wind and plow through the red lights. I’ve only seen a few other cars on the road which is extremely rare.

  People are starting to flood the sidewalks and spill out into the roads. As I start getting closer to the Bay Bridge, I can see that it appears inta
ct. The bridge spans farther than I can see so I take the chance and get on. Traffic is nonexistent on the bridge, but there are a few cars sitting in lanes. Out of the five lanes, most are free to drive in. Some people have stopped and are on the side of the bridge while others are stopped in random spots causing me to have to weave in out of the lanes.

  I’m trying to cross the bridge as fast as I can. I don’t know if it’s the wind or another earthquake, but I can feel the bridge moving as I drive. I’m almost to the end when I can see a section of the bridge is missing. Cars have stopped in three lanes, and people are out of their cars staring out into the dark water. Two lanes on the right side are still intact, but no one is driving across them. I’m going for it. I lay on my horn as I barrel down on the people. I’m getting out of here one way or another. I weave in and out of more cars parked trying to watch both the road and the bystanders. I can see heads turning toward me as I come up on them. My car is flying now, no longer going anywhere near the speed limit.

  I force my car all the way to the right side of the bridge. I’m so close to the barrier wall that I hit my mirror on the concrete. As I drive over the falling concrete, I can see cars down in the water. It’s a mess of steel and concrete. They must have gone down with the initial tremors. I feel bad for them, but I’m too scared for myself to keep my mind on the scene. I get my eyes back on the road and get back onto the section of bridge that’s still intact.

  That was the most exciting trip to Oakland I’ve ever had. Actually, it’s my only trip to Oakland. Once I’m across the bridge, I realize that traffic is going to be my enemy. I’ve made it a few miles, but the freeway is flooded with stopped cars, abandoned or involved in an accident. The ash is still falling from the sky, and it’s coming down at a rate my wiper blades can’t keep up with. The wind is so strong, it’s attempting to blow my car into the other lanes. The normally flashing billboards showing ads are black. I make it a few miles before I have to come to a complete stop. As I look over at the drivers around me, the look on people’s faces is a mixture of confusion and horror. Panic has set in, and everyone is trying to figure out how to react to the insane amount of ash falling or the lack of information in the emergency broadcast.