The End

by Dan J. DesRochers

  There was only about one week left when it happened. You think you have it all figured out, the world’s going to end in a week and that’s that. Then something happens, something unexpected as if someone knew you were too content with your fate and decided to just go ahead and make things that much more difficult for you. Frank had been gone for about four days now, one day he just stopped showing up at home. At first we thought that with the higher numbers of suicides he was just staying at the center, then Gene stopped by looking for Frank. Gene told us that Frank hadn’t come to work in four days and we all assumed the worst.

  We decided to head out to Gogol’s, not only to numb the pain of our upcoming mortality but secretly, we all hoped Frank would be sitting in that dingy corner, eyes locked inside his glass. If he was, we wouldn’t have known, the door to Gogol’s was locked tight and the cardboard sign was just gone. We stood, flabbergasted as to what our next move was, Gogol’s had been our nightly home for the past two months and now, without warning, it was like it never even existed. Gene told us he was going to wrangle us up some liquor. When I asked where, he just mumbled something in Russian and then said he would be right back. Even Gene, the previously happy go lucky Ukrainian cartoon character, was acting strangely.

  Hope and I took a seat on a half broken marble bench by the side of Madison Avenue to await Gene’s return. Her half tattered yellow sundress draped off the side of the bench like icicles. “Look at that.” She said, pointing skyward, gazing towards the heavens, “This whole end of the world thing does have it’s perks.” I looked up and saw millions of stars lighting up the sky, something prior New York citizens would have never been able to see. “It’s the pollution, you know?” she said, finally breaking her stare to come face to face with me. “They say it’s the extra gasses, they magnify the stars light.” She returned her gaze upwards. “I think it’s just to make us feel a little more…” “insignificant?” I answered quickly. “Modest,” she said, turning back to me. “It’s not a feeling of being nothing, not mattering, it’s like we’re part of something bigger, something greater than ourselves.” There were tears beginning to form in her eyes as her arms, slowly, wrapped around mine, her head coming to a gentle rest on my shoulder.

  I felt my heart beat hard, like a jackhammer trying to escape from concrete ribs. The arm that Hope was clinging to was bombarded with a wave of goosebumps. I thought to myself “this could be the only chance”, telling myself that this was the right moment, forcing myself to try to believe it. I lightly grabbed her chin and turned her lips towards mine, but was met with two fingers, softly pressed to my lips. “We can’t do this David.” She said, battling back a slew of tears.

  There’s something about the differences in male and female brain chemistry that has always intrigued me. In that instant, that moment we shared, it was epitomized. Her reaction, sadness, whereas mine was anger. I think that the male brain always perceives the best possible outcome of a situation thereby making us angry when it is prevented from happening. The female brain sees things in exact inverse. What problems could this lead too?

  “It’s the end of the world David. How selfish are you?!” I took major offense to this. “Selfish?! How am I being selfish, should we not have any joy or happiness in our final days?! Are we supposed to just take our own mortality with a side of crippling depression?!” I retorted, subliminally patting myself on the back for my counter argument. “No,” she answered, tears streaming down her porcelain cheeks “but why start something we won’t be able to see through to the end?” I bowed down, sheepishly, embarrassed by my previously self applauded position. She raised herself from the bench and stormed off, leaving me sitting there in her metaphorical dust, like the coyote to her roadrunner.

  I don’t know why I didn’t chase after her. I never will, there was something in me that said not to for reasons I am still unsure of. Instead I decided to find Gene and his bottle of vodka. I found Gene back at the Civil Services Union. Things were different there, the mood had changed. The once jovial place filled with the sounds and smells of the entire ethnic world had fallen silent, I guess every other time it looked like things could get better, that’s more than a reason to celebrate. Most of the bunks were empty or inhabited corpses or rats.

  I found Gene at the corner where I had originally met his family. He was slumped over, sitting on the floor with a half bottle of vodka in one hand and a twenty-two caliber pistol in the other. I crouched down beside him. “Where’s the family Gene?” I asked him, knowing the answer already. “They’re gone,” Gene said, drunkenly flailing his arms about “my father kept on going on and saying about caves in the mountains would protect us. I told him it not matter but they go anyways, they leave me.” I carefully maneuvered my hand towards the .22 thinking that in his stupor he wouldn’t notice. I thought wrong.

  With reaction time I thought Gene no longer possessed I found myself with a snub nose twenty two caliber revolver pressed into my forehead. “Gene,” I said as calmly as anyone whose drunken friend is holding them at gunpoint “Why don’t you just put down the gun Gene.” “They left” he cryptically answered “They left me here to die alone.” I’m sure my eyes were peppered with fear, I’m not so sure that Gene picked up on that. Voice trembling I stated to Gene “I’m not going anywhere Gene, I’m going to stay here, with you.” “You stay? Here? With me?” Gun still pressed to my head I nodded yes.

  Immediately Gene’s demeanor took a complete 180. He threw down his hand holding the gun and replaced it with the bottle of vodka, thrusting it towards me. “You stay,” he demandingly put it “We drink.” And I was never one to not oblige a drunken Ukrainian with a gun.

  REACTION

  I woke up in Gene’s sister’s bunk the next morning, sans sister of course. I looked around and realized I was sans Gene as well. I shot my hand under the lumpy mattress and it emerged clutching the .22. I had managed to sneak it away from Gene during our seventh shot of vodka, I had hoped he didn’t notice and wouldn’t go looking for it, I guess I lucked out.

  I looked around for Gene for a bit, finding only rodents and rotten old food, then, over by the eastern Asia section of the CSU barracks I saw something move. I bolted around the corner connecting Malaysia and Indonesia and found myself seconds away from trampling the most frightened little Asian girl I had ever seen. I knelt down to her “Where’s your family? Where’s your mommy?” I asked in a sing song voice. Her answer was a high pitched wail the likes of I’ve never heard and hopefully will ever hear again.

  From around what I think was the Kazakh section came a beast of a man. He was yelling in a language that I didn’t understand and brandishing a huge fuck-off machete. At this point I had three options, materialize some kind of armor, learn mandarin, or run. Three seemed the quickest option and I exited the Civil Services Union for the last, and speediest, time.

  I took the long way home, I don’t really know why. It wasn’t for the scenery, which was looking a little more bleak than normal. My route took me through east Central Park, which I hadn’t been back too since my first week out. Me and Hope came here while I was still on crutches. She told me that it was her favorite place in the city, even when it was crowded with homeless when this all began, it was still her favorite place in the city. The color was missing though, I’d never seen it but the way she described it, it could have only been astounding.

  I walked through the dried grass, every parched crackle reminded me more of the way things played out last night. Why can’t I just enjoy my last days alive? We were having a great time just hanging out and joking around and then I mucked it all up. I was snapped from my day dream by a piercing rattling coming from a bush near the park wall. I clawed through the bristle and came across a little kid. He had curly black hair and brown eyes. His clothes draped off his body, even though they were too small for his age which I deduced to be about seven or so. The instant he saw me he dropped what he was doing and ran, I can only speculate the things this kid had to go thro
ugh to make it this far in life. The spray paint can he was using clattered in a bed of rocks. Raspberry blue. That was the color he was using. Raspberry blue.

  Written on the decaying wall, in Raspberry blue, was the phrase “The End is…” and it just stopped abruptly like that. I somberly chuckled and filled in the completed the cliché with the word “Now”. Walking away I thought that I could have gone with “Nigh” or even “Neigh” with a picture of a little horse next to it but I didn’t have that kind of artistic prowess and the only color I had was Raspberry blue. That, however, did get me thinking about what I could do with only Raspberry blue.

  I came bursting through the front door with a smile plastered from cheek to cheek and a handful of ¾ dead spray painted Raspberry blue daises fully expecting to see Hope. I didn’t care if she was standing there with a scowl or a smile, this was my peace offering and I was just going to be glad to see her. She wasn’t there. Neither was her tent or any of the few trinkets she kept in the house. It was as if she had never been here. I put the flowers down on the dingy brown couch and plopped down next to them, the couch exhaled a dust cloud as I did. I really fucked things up. The person I wanted to spend my last days with was the last person who wanted to spend time with me.

  The whole day felt like it passed in seconds, and when there’s only a few days left to live that’s saying a lot. Nighttime crept up on me like a stampeding rhino, it was as if I blinked and BOOM, darkness followed quickly by torrents of pollution infused rain. I didn’t even bother lighting the candle, I just sat, in the dark, in the rain. After about three hours of sitting motionless I was startled by a sound outside, a crash of shattering glass. I jumped up from my solitude and ran to the back. I knew she had come back and her tent and her stuff and her beautiful self would just be standing out there in the rain. The yard greeted me with no visitors.

  I turned and was immediately knocked to the floor, a strong strike to the head. “Go ahead and fucking kill me!” I screamed, my throat turning hoarse “There’s no point to this anyway!”. My assailant leaned down closely, I could smell his putrid breath and make out the outline of his scraggly hair against the lightning illuminated window. Then, like the breath of redemption, came a familiar voice. “Dave?” it queried, “Is that you?” A firm hand grabbed my by my shoulder and raised me up, my eyes focused in and standing before me was Frank. I embraced him tightly and Frank, not being the most emotional of people in the past, surprisingly hugged me back. “Good to see you too.” He said as he chuckled. Frank helped me to my feet and sat me at the kitchen table, lighting the candle before making his way to the cabinets. “You got any coffee in here?” he snarled inquisitively “I know I left some. I’m sure you drank it by now but you could have replaced it.” “Hey man,” I replied angrily “You fucking left, we thought you were dead. Wait a second, where the fuck have you been?” “Kidnapped. Well, if it’s an adult is it still kidnapping?” I shrugged my shoulders, not knowing. “Either way I was abducted.” “By who, Frank?” “It was those goddamn Christ’s Coalitionists, they tried to kill me, you know?” “I’ve heard that’s what they do.” Frank was acting a little strange and for a guy like Frank, that means something significant. “I did see something out of the ordinary while I was there though.” “Yeah, what’s that.” “Hope.” My ears perked up “You saw Hope at the Coalition camp?” “Saw her this morning, on my way out. They’re keeping her on the east side in the sacrifice cages.” Immediately I started to gear up, grabbing any weapons I could. “Where do you think you’re going? You’re not gonna survive in there.” “I have to do something, Frank, they’ve got her in a fucking cage.” “There’s only one way you’re going to make it through there.” Frank said, matter of factly “I’m going with you.”

  RESUSCITATION

  Me and Frank loaded up with whatever we could carry, shotguns, handguns, a bat, Frank even broke a leg off the coffee table to take with him. We must have looked like something out of The Warriors, marching down the street, determined. We were on a mission. Things got perpetually worse as we neared the CCC. The rest of the city was bad, but this area looked more like Athens than New York. Buildings were worse than barely standing and the ground was strewn with rubble that was once someone’s home or someone’s business. The weirdest thing was that there were no body piles. It seems that while not valuing innocent human life, Christ’s Coalition still valued ceremonial burial.

  Then we reached the wall. It stretched high for days and in comparison wide by months. They painted it black, fitting for the worshipers of suicide. I thought to myself “So this is what Emo evolved into.” And that brought some levity to the cesspool of horrible possibilities that was flooding my imagination. “Over here, Dave” Frank said, motioning for me to follow him.

  We arrived at what Frank was describing as “the breech” There, in the midnight black wall, was a hole. It looked barely big enough for a dog to fit through. “How’d you know about this, Frank?” I asked suspiciously. “How do you think I got out dingus? Flew?” “Frank you’ve got to be mental to think that you fit through that hole.” “Watch and learn kid.” With that Frank took three steps back and launched himself at the hole and, at the last minute, outstretched his arms like a diver and shot through it. I stood, flabbergasted that a flabby fuck like Frank could manage that. Then, from the other side of the wall I heard “It’s all about velocity Dave, just gain up some speed and do it.” I took a deep breath and followed Frank’s example and after a jutting pain in my side found myself on the other side.

  In contrast to the rest of the surrounding area, inside the Christ’s Coalition Camp was a level beyond immaculate. It reminded me of the way Atlantis was portrayed in old cartoons, everything was shiny and streamlined. “What are you gawking at? Don’t get jealous. They only get to enjoy these pristine and clean conditions for a few days before they kill themselves. Come on.” Frank led me through a maze of the cleanest and best smelling alleys I’ve ever had the pleasure of traversing. “Be on you’re guard kid, these shadow people will take any chance you give ‘em.” Frank whispered, his eyes darting nervously.

  As a duo, we didn’t make it two more steps. All of a sudden, a panel slid open in the brick wall and a slender pair of arms shot out. The black long sleeved arms and gloved hands clasped around Frank’s collarbone and yanked him into the darkness, then the panel slammed shut as if nothing happened. By that point it was too late to do anything, all I could do was scream and bang on the wall which I did without hesitation.

  Hesitation. One second to think about a decision is the difference between black and white, life and death. Had I taken that one second to contemplate weather or not it was a good idea to make a ruckus in a hostile suicide cult’s camp, I probably would have acted otherwise. Unfortunately for me, I didn’t hesitate.

  From behind me, almost immediately, a chorus of footsteps began. I barely had enough time to see the fifty or so dark clothed cultists coming after me before I took the hard tackle to the ground, slamming my head against the pristine alley floor. Everything from there got a little hazy, I remember being surrounded and dragged through the streets, I could hear muffled cheers from all around me.

  Then I saw the sun. The pollution gave it a mildly green tint during the sunset, another of the end of days’ perks. Then, blotting out the olive shaded sunset, in stepped a giant of a man clothed in ceremonial black robes adorned with gold. “Brothers!” he cried out “Sisters! The time is near!” The crowd roared with excitement. I snapped back to reality and looked up at the colossus who stood over me.

  He was a black man, probably in his late sixties which you don’t see much anymore. His peppered beard seemed to fade into his face and robes, looking more like speckles of dandruff than facial hair. When he spoke his mouth full of gold teeth gleamed and his eyes, well, his eyes were not there. Where they should have been was just deep open cavities yet I could still feel their gaze, burning into my soul.

  “It is our time to change the fate of thi
s world.” He continued “Our lord and savior has called out to me, your prophet, his prophet. He told me that to save the lives of millions we must give him the lives of thousands. This is to be the final herd to join his flock.” The crowd exploded into cheers and amens and hallelujahs. “Let the ascension begin my children.” With that, a chorus of gunshots rang out and a fine red mist slowly rose from the slumping crowd.

  “And now, non-believer,” he declared “you will join us.” He unsheathed his previously hidden ceremonial dagger and held it high. “This is for humanity!!” The dagger came fast, slicing through the air on it’s descent. Then, like a lightning strike, came my savior. Waiting in the wings for an opportune moment was Gene who tackled the preacher to the ground. With dagger still in hand, the preacher swung down only to be blocked and taken away by Gene who promptly severed the preacher’s throat from his body. “Go,” Gene said like some kind of action hero “join your savior, brother.” I hobbled to my feet and collapsed into Gene’s lanky outstretched arms.