The Trojan

 Cassie had dreams and visions, but no one ever believed. Girls at school laughed when she foresaw their boyfriends cheating; her family shook their heads if she saw cars crashes, or homes burning down. Cornell might love Cassandra but he never believed her, either.

“There you go,” Cassie tucked her silk handkerchief into the breast pocket of Cornell’s suit. “Now you’re ready for anything.” It was a lie, but she’d warned him before, and he’d just laughed it off. Instead of fighting, she kissed Cornell’s lips and let him muss her auburn hair one last time.

“I’ll be home for dinner,” he said, getting into his Tesla.

”We’ll have pork chops.” Cassie blinked away tears from her grey eyes, smiled and waved as he left. It was hard watching Cornell leave forever. It was much harder than everyone thinking she was crazy.

Once the taillights had disappeared Cassie went out into the garage where her reliable, old Jeep was ready, loaded with supplies, full of fuel, and serviced. The reinforced concrete garage, half-set into the ground, could withstand almost anything the gods could throw at it. Cornell had wanted to buy a McMansion, out by the golf course, the same as his friends, but Cassie insisted on this house. The garage was the reason, but she just told him the place gave her a good feeling. He hadn’t argued.

She looked at her mementos until she heard the roar of the Trojan asteroid hurtling in from the West. For billions of years it had orbited near Jupiter, until someone had sent the rock careening toward Earth. No one had seen it coming; the gods made sure of that.  It broke up over the Pacific but, even so, an unstoppable fragment 500 yards wide rushed on while people ran outside to watch. Cassie put on her ear protectors and huddled down, alone.

The blast wave levelled everything within 50 miles. The house was gone, and the roof had been torn off the garage. The Mile High City was now a crater a mile wide and 1200 feet deep.

Cassandra drove slowly with her headlights on; the clouds of dust and smoke were thick, but the glow might attract any survivors who saw them. The 4-wheel drive dealt with the obstacles and debris. The hospital where Cornell had worked was just twisted metal and concrete now. Still Cassie knew survivors would drift toward the place it once stood.

She handed out bottles of water, mylar blankets, and emergency rations to the dazed survivors for hours. A few wanted to come along when she left: a pregnant girl, a teen boy who was carrying his father, and a little boy who clung to the youth’s leg. There was no sign of Cornell.

”Who did this?” the old man asked. “Was it terrorists? The Ruskies?” Cassie shrugged her shoulders. She knew he’d believe his own fantasies before he believed her, even if she told him the truth she heard from the gods.