Book One: Impact

"So, I'm looking for a Black Smoke mask, preferably the later models from the 1960s. Got any of those?"

The man behind the counter stared at me with mouth agape, probably wondering what a twelve-year-old Goth girl was doing in his pawnshop asking for such a strange object. "Uh…" he said dumbly, as I stood tapping my combat boot against the grimy linoleum floor. "We might have something like that in the basement," he eventually stammered. "Let me go check."

He left the front counter, and I took a look around as I waited. Being a standard downtown pawnshop there was nothing of any real interest to me, just a bunch of useless junk. However, it was the last place I had to ask for a Black Smoke mask, so I was hoping it would come through. Soon enough he returned, and to my pleasure he was holding a large metal object in his hands.

"This what you want?" he asked, setting it on the counter in front of me. I ran my hands over the smooth, cold, and admittedly dusty metal with a thrill. It was a Black Smoke mask alright, made entirely of metal so that it couldn't deteriorate with time or toxins. It was also a '66 model, one of the best ever made.

"How much for it?" I asked gleefully, holding the mask as if it could save my life; which, I believed, it could.

The man looked at it and shrugged. "Dunno, that piece hasn't been looked at for years. Maybe five bucks?" I happily handed over part of last week's allowance and took the mask. I walked out of the store, finding myself on one of the back streets of downtown. Though my parents didn't know (and would never approve), I spent a good deal of my time after school walking down streets like this. It was the 'shady' pawnshops that had the best stuff, and they were only found in the more abandoned parts of town.

Humming a little bit of nothing to myself, I walked around the corner and headed back home. I had time; there were always a good couple of hours between when school got out and my parents got home from work. I thought it was great; there was always something I wanted to do in those hours that could not be done in their company. They never did understand.

I hitched my backpack up and increased my grip on the mask as I approached my family's apartment building. Despite my preferences, we lived on a higher floor, and I took the stairs as usual. People, especially my parents, called me paranoid because I wouldn't use elevators. Personally, I didn't see anything wrong with not wanting to get in a metal box that cannot be escaped from and it easily broken. I was always prepared to have an exit strategy, it was just how my mind worked.

But for some reason, that characteristic seemed to make me… wrong in other people's eyes. My cousin explained it to me like this: I simply saw the world, and its potentials, in a different way than most. The way she said it, it didn't seem bad; but according to my parents, it was a problem of mine that should be fixed, and soon.

"Whatever," I muttered to myself, fitting the key into my front door. Just because I was twelve didn't mean I was stupid. Still, these kind of thoughts happened every day, whether I wanted them to or not.

Closing the front door behind me I found my way to my bedroom, past the 'No Trespassing' sign on my door and the caution tape just past it. I dumped my backpack on the floor and slid open my closet door. Sitting at the back of my closet was a set of duffel bags- my survival kits. In my research I had pinpointed the four most likely catastrophes to occur in the near future, and had made survival bags set up specifically for them. My parents didn't know of course; they would have taken them away from me, and that was unthinkable.

Each one contained basic survival supplies: a complete change of clothes in preparation for cold or hot weather, a utility pocket knife, at least a week's worth of non-perishable food, sealed cases of water, a roll of duct tape, a small bedroll, and a tarp. Things I couldn't split up, like my cache of money and my cell pone, were in a small bag that could easily be put into the others if need be. The bags themselves contained tools specific to the situation; I put the Black Smoke mask into the bag labeled 'Second Coming of the Martians' and zipped it up again, closing the closet door.

Flopping on my bed, I reached into my jacket pocket and pulled out my journal and pen. Opening it to the correct page I wrote:

Bought Black Smoke mask- in very good shape, still sealed. Even better, my allowance isn't decimated this time. Library book still isn't in.

With that done I shoved it back in my pocket. I always had my journal by my side- I slept with it under my pillow. It contained everything I knew, all of the potentials, what worked and what didn't. The journal was my lifeline. Something else I never let my parents see, lest they take it away. Still, they knew that it existed; they just didn't know what I wrote in it, as I called it my personal diary. Even my parents wouldn't go so far as to read something like that.

Within the hour I heard my mom come home from work. "Grey, sweetie?" she said through my door. She had stopped coming into my room a while ago. I think it scared her. "Dinner will be ready in a bit, okay? Are you doing your homework?"

"Yes, mom," I replied loudly. "I don't have much, I'm almost done."

"Okay…" she replied. "Make sure you're finished by the time your father gets home, he doesn't like to see you cooped up in your room."

"Yeah, whatever," I muttered to myself as she walked away. Like I cared what my father liked or didn't like.

I had finished my homework and was listening to metal music when my mother returned. "Grey!" she yelled through the door, trying to shout over the music. "Come and sit down for dinner!"

With a sigh I turned off the music and stood up, walking out of my bedroom. My mom was standing there waiting for me with a strained smile. "Why do you insist on always straightening you hair?" she asked, fingering my long black hair as we walked to the kitchen.

"Dunno," I replied curtly, brushing her hand away and sitting down heavily in my chair. She frowned but didn't respond. I looked up to see my father eyeing me and I bit my lip, feeling a bit guilty for being so cold. Still, they kept trying to change me, and I hated it.

The two of us waited in silence as Mom set up the meal, my father still looking at me as I avoided eye contact. She sat down and led us in grace, which I mumbled my way through, and then started passing around the food. She and my father talked to each other as they ate, whiled I stayed slouched in my chair picking disinterestedly at my food.

"Blair is coming to visit in a couple of days," my mother said, and immediately I became interested in the conversation.

"Blair is coming to see us?" I asked excitedly. Blair was my cousin, my favorite one; she was going to college in another state, so she didn't come to see us that often. Still, she was the only relative I had that actually liked me for myself. Never once had she thrown my personality or interests in a bad light, which made her much more enjoyable to hang out with.

My mother smiled; she had always approved of Blair, and thought she was a good influence on me. "Yes, she's coming on Wednesday. I think she wants to visit the city during the day and stay with us in the evenings."

"Sweet," I replied, thinking of all the fun things we could do together. This was going to make the week so much better.

The next morning my alarm went off as usual, and I got up to get ready for school. I came to breakfast with my backpack slung over my shoulder, hoping to grab some toast and set off before my mother could intervene. Unfortunately both of my parents were already seated, and my mom made me sit down and eat a 'real' breakfast.

My father was sipping on his coffee and reading the morning paper as usual. He grunted in distaste and threw it on the table. "Nothing interesting today," he declared. "The writers just kept going on about how Mars is slipping behind the sun in it's orbit. As if that impacts anyone here!"

My ears perked up at this tidbit of information, if only because Mars was still on my mind from the day before. I didn't show any interest, however, and finished my breakfast in silence. "See ya," I said, picking up my backpack and striding towards the door.

"Have a good day!" my mom called after me, almost hopefully.

"Yeah, that's probably not going to happen," I said under my breath, closing the door behind me. I shoved my hands in my pockets and walked down the stairs, hoping I was in time to catch the bus. School wasn't exactly great for me; I was pretty much the class freak, the crazy one that nobody dared talk to for fear of social isolation. Add that to the boring classes and over-disciplinary teachers, and that's a mix I couldn't wait to leave. Overall, it kind of sucked.

I made it to the metro, paid at the front, and sat down in the back corner. As the doors shut and the bus rumbled into movement I pulled out my journal. What my father had said at breakfast was definitely worth writing down.

Mars is in orbit behind the sun- away from Earth's view. A very dangerous position, one that only happens rarely. I should keep my eyes and ears out for other astronomical news, whether from Mars or the Sun. Until then, I cannot wait for Blair to come. Maybe I can tell her about this news…