Enter the Apocalypse

by Gondolfi, Thomas

  And he turned to look at us. Maybe he sensed an audience, I don’t know. The most awful thing wasn’t what he was doing, or even the whistling. What turned me sour was the way he stopped and waved at us, lifting one hand high, like a neighbor. What he was doing wasn’t so different from our gooning, but it was how unguarded he seemed, how normal. Howdy, neighbor, just spendin my Saturday blowin’ off a few heads.

  If I lived to be a hundred, I’d never forget that man’s raised hand, or how he turned back to his Saturday adventure.

  ***

  The place smelled of rot, so we knew what we would find as soon as we went in. There wasn’t much competition for supplies in our area, so we never hoarded. If we got low, we’d go out. A home was as good as a store. We found all the non-perishables and packed them up. Then we went through the house. Cora liked to play a game where she pieced together the lives of the former owners, using what she found. Modern anthropology, she called it.

  I came across her upstairs, in the baby’s room (thankfully there was no child there), crying quietly as she squeezed a stuffed elephant to death against her small chest. She was looking out the window. The sunlight and the gentle pink curtains almost made her pretty. “It’s all really over, isn’t it?” she said. She didn’t look back at me. “We’re just waiting to be seated.”

  “Yeah,” I said.

  “Why can’t you be optimistic?!” she yelled. “Why can’t you say the right things?”

  “You mean, why don’t I say what you want to hear? Because I don’t have the energy to lie.”

  Cora held the stuffed animal up like a mother inspecting her child. “You don’t think we’ll get through? Even after so long?”

  “I think it doesn’t matter. Even if we’re fine, we’re not. I think the best that’s left for us is growing old in a crumbling world, too busy ignoring it to do much. There ain’t no future for us. We’re not that strong.” I didn’t care for much, but I could still mourn hope.

  “You sound like you’re Wounded,” Cora said, trying to hurt me.

  I shrugged. “Maybe I am. Maybe all of us are but we lack the good sense to quit caring.”

  Cora walked over to me. She touched me as if I might be hot enough to burn her, then rested her hands on my chest. “You can still feel, can’t you?”

  I took her hand, kissed her palm, then laid her on the floor to show her I could.

  ***

  In the end, I think we pushed ourselves to live so hard for the same reason we went gooning—to see how far we could really go. Then it became about anger. Why this? Why us? Why now? Why should the last days be ours? And some of it was fear. Biting our thumbs at Death. In the end, fear is all that’s really left. When that goes, you’re dead already.

  We finally lost power a couple weeks ago. That fucked with everybody pretty hard. Lily vanished in the night. We never talked about it. We didn’t go looking for her. I don’t think even Jonah is crazy enough to goon one of us. Cora just sits in dark corners and cries. She was never a big girl, so the weight she’s lost is obvious. She hasn’t asked me to check her for splotches, and honestly, I wouldn’t want to. There’s a lot I don’t want anymore. I thought that writing all this down might help me gain some kind of perspective. I don’t know…but all I see is a sad ending to a thing that was never as special as I wanted to believe in the first place.

  How do you know you’re alive? I know I’m not Wounded, but I do feel numb. I haven’t felt much since going home. That’s what all these canisters of gasoline are about. I’m pretty sure that after sunset I’ll remember what being alive is about. In the end, there’s only one way to glimpse it. I’m not going to say anything to anyone. That’s not how it’s done. Let them tell themselves I was sick, Wounded. Let them find what comfort they can in denying that they want this to be over as well. I wish them luck. It takes more than living to be alive.

  I’m almost excited.

  Rise of the Golden Creep

  John A. McColley

  Editor: It is a tenet that parents know more than their offspring. But a child must disobey from time to time to assert independence. The question is, does the youngster survive long enough to learn the lesson.

  "Di, look at the TV," Mom said.

  But I was like, "I can't watch TV right now, I've gotta get to Heather's. We're going to Todd's thing, remember?" The sun was bright through the window. I couldn't look right at her or see the TV very well anyway.

  "Look at the damn TV," she said in her Mom Voice.™

  "He can't be that hot," I said, sure she was trying to get me interested in guys again. I put my hand up to block the light and squinted at the screen. She's so absolutely sure Heather is just a phase. When I saw it, though, I dropped my phone. It hit the kitchen floor and shot across the tiles. The Beach Scene camera showed no beach at all. Instead of sand, there was some kind of grody orange stuff that looked like a sponge factory threw up. Sagging heaps wriggled and oozed up over the sea wall and back down. Maybe the wall would stop it. I recognized the spot from the signs and chipped paint on the metal railing—Simpson’s Laguna. I've passed them a million times hitting the sand with the crew. And now the stuff, whatever it was, was right there, I mean right where I've pitched umbrellas and had bonfires.

  "...Has been going on since before dawn here at Simpson's Laguna. What it is or how it got here is unknown at this time. It emerged from the water during the night and has nearly reached Ocean Road. Hundreds of homes and businesses have been damaged, hundreds more could be in danger by the end of the day. Many residents have already fled. Authorities have blocked off the nearest roads and have boats in the water trying to trace a path back to the source..." Mom held up the remote and changed the channel.

  "...Toxic waste? No one can say. All we do know is that it's appeared in a dozen places along the West Florida coast, moving, or perhaps growing, at an amazing rate..." Click.

  "...Just reached the street now. We're going to have to pull back again any minute. The van is running. We'll try to keep broadcasting—wait, do you see that? I don't know if you can see at home, but the material that has been encroaching onto dry land all morning, overcoming beach blankets and left-behind sunscreen bottles has now stopped at the edge of the road. What has been a rolling tide of pudding to this point has begun to flatten into a wall following the tarmac—" Click.

  "What do you think it is?" Mom asked as she hit mute.

  "You're asking me? I got like a C- in biology."

  "So you think it's alive? From the way it moved I kind of do, too." Mom sounded worried.

  "I'm sure it's just one of those things that happens every hundred years, like cicadas or something. It'll be gone in a few days, a week tops." She looked like she needed comforting. That was all I had.

  "You're right, the scientists will all geek out over it until it goes back into the water and we'll see some special on the Nature channel about it in a couple months. Still, stick to the pools, okay, kid? No beaches until this thing's done?"

  "Mom! Todd's party is a beach barbecue, and like volleyball or whatever. You can't do that stuff in his yard. Most of it's hot top. He's got like three square feet of grass and there's that tree in the middle of it." She just stared at me like she does. "Uhh! Okay! No beach, but if everybody else goes, what am I supposed to do?"

  "You could always come spend a nice evening with your parents," Mom said. I'm pretty sure she was joking, but it's hard to tell lately. Old people are weird.

  "Love you," I said, avoiding any response to the invitation. There's no safe conversation there.

  I took off with my big, white canvas bag over my shoulder and the floppy hat Mom makes me wear blocking all those terrible UV rays on my head. When I got to the car, I dropped both behind my seat and headed for Heather's.

  After a few minutes in her driveway, we headed to Todd's. Everyone was hanging around the pool, looking like someone ran over their puppies. The grill sat by the pool fence. A couple of Frisbees floated, the only things enjo
ying the water.

  "Hey, Todd, what happened to the party?"

  "That stuff happened. My mom and dad, they're both like scientists, you know? They looked at it under the microscope and drove out of here like bats out of hell. The only thing they said before they left was, 'Don't go near it. Stay off the beach.'"

  "That's exactly what my mom said," I said. "Well this party isn't gonna start itself. Let's turn up some beats and crack some bottles."

  "Can't drink. Mrs. Delgado lives over there on the other side of the pool. She'll tell my parents."

  "Well, that sucks. What are we supposed to do now?"

  "Nobody's come up with anything yet." Todd shrugged.

  "I know!" I said, it dawning on me. "Your parents have been keeping an eye on this stuff, right? It's not everywhere, just like a few spots. Let's find some clear sand and take this party for a drive!" I started bouncing. Heather got me like she always does. Her face lit up. She squeezed my hand. We bobbed in sync for a few seconds.

  "This is going to be epic!" she squealed.

  All our peeps piled into three cars to Izzard's Cove, a cute little chunk of sand hidden at the end of the nature preserve. According to Todd, no orange stuff had surfaced within miles of there. With the grill heating up and beers cooling down, we headed for the water. I was so relieved to see the waves lapping, clear past the cove mouth. "Race you to the sandbar!" I screamed, kicking my flips and shorts off by a bush.

  "Wait, I'm not ready!" Heather called, pulling her tee-shirt over her head and running after me. My hair was swept back by the wind as my feet sprayed hot sand behind me. I ran into the surf up to my knees, put my hands together over my head, and dived in. Ah! The water wrapped itself around me, just cool enough for my skin to goose pimple. Pull! Pull! I swam in junior high, where I first met Heather. I dropped it later for field hockey. Heather stuck with it though, so she caught up to me pretty quick.

  The sandbar was only like a foot below the surface. We pulled ourselves up on it and waved back at the others. Some were on their way to us. Todd stood beside the grill, spatula raised, shining in the sun like a gladiator getting ready to do battle. I laughed at the thought. I remembered the times I’d saved him from a beating from Rob. Then something in the water caught my eye. It was shiny, too.

  "Fish!" I pointed and yelled a few times. "There—there's a whole butt-load of fish in there!" I nudged Heather to point out the giant school of flashing silver fish, no longer than my palm, all getting freaked out by the clumsy humans crashing through their cove.

  She didn't say anything, but nudged me back, trying to get my attention, but not getting her mouth to work.

  "Hey! What's the matt—" I followed her stare.

  Creamsicle orange hung below the waves. The near edge was fifteen, twenty feet away. The far edge...I couldn't see a far edge. It faded to gray where the bottom dropped off, and the water above it got deeper. I turned back around, waving the other swimmers off.

  "Go back! Don't come over here! Get back to shore!" I yelled. They couldn't hear me through the splashing. The sandbar got crowded quick as Gail, Laura, Lottie, and Dan got up there with us.

  "Look at all those fish!" Dan said.

  "No, look at that!" I said pointing at the orange stuff. "We've gotta get out of here. Those fish aren't just hanging out. They're running away." I pointed out past the sandbar. Was it already closer? It couldn't be. I mean, could it? That fast?

  "Shark!" Someone screamed. Because that's all we needed. I turned. Laura pointed. It wasn't Jaws, or anything, but it was big enough. It could take an arm. I shuddered.

  "Now what do we do? I—" Lottie screamed. Dan screamed. I looked again. The shark was gone. Just gone. "Where is it? Where the hell did it go?!"

  "That...whatever...orange crap just kind of—" Dan made a wave crashing motion with his hand. I'm not gonna lie. I felt warmth run down my leg. Heather was the brave one.

  "We gotta get out of here." I tried to dive off. My feet slipped through the sand. I flopped over like a fish escaping a dock. The water closed over me. I lost half my air. I started to freak. I pulled with my arms, kicked, but my form was crap. I got nowhere fast.

  Those fish, seeming so tiny and harmless, slammed into me from every direction. I kicked off the bottom, popping up to see what was going down. Heather was still standing there, staring. "Come on!" I yelled. Everyone splashed past me. She didn't hear. Water churned. I tried to get back to her. Teeth and harsh fins scratched me all over.

  A jelly wrapped around my arm, bathing it in fire. I screamed in pain. Heather snapped out of it, then. She launched over my head. A wave of orange whatever came down on the sandbar, just where she’d been standing.

  Flinging the sticky jelly away, I kicked for my life. The desperate mass of fish got under my hands, around my legs. I felt like I was caught in a giant net. My panic meter bumped to eleven. When they flopped over my back, I lost it. All my rhythm, my coordination ran out on me again. I sank. I grabbed fish after fish, trying to find air.

  Someone wrapped an arm under mine and beneath my chin, pulling me free of the water. "I've got you!" Heather yelled as I sputtered. She dragged me in an awkward hug toward the shore.

  “I’m okay now!” I yelled, pulling free of her embrace. Through flashing, flipping fish, we struggled. After like a million years, my hand hit sand again. Heather crawled out of the water right next to me.

  From the beach, we watched chaos reign. Fish crammed in the cove tighter and tighter. Silver bodies bounced off rocks on the south side. The orange stuff flowed inshore from the sandbar. Water rode high on the beach, filling in our footprints in the sand. Todd dumped sand in the grill.

  "Just leave it! There's no time!" I yelled at him. Now I dragged Heather along behind me. I took his hand with my other. "Where's Lottie?"

  "What about Dan? He drove! We can't start his car without him!"

  "We're here!" Dan said, leaning on Lottie as the pair emerged from the water. They were both covered in scrapes. Blood ran down wet skin, staining bathing suits. "But Gail, Laura...They were right behind us!"

  "Help!" Laura cried out as she lay on the rocks halfway down the jetty. Oh no! She got turned around! Laura reached for Gail’s hand that flailed amid thousands of silver fish flashing in the sun. Laura swatted leaping fish away.

  "Gail! No!" I screamed as the hand was engulfed in orange.

  “Laura, run!” Dan called beside me.

  "Run! Just run for it!" I called across the lagoon. But between Laura and the rest of us the jetty had already been covered with writhing gold. Laura was already cut off. The creep covered the rocks, the sand, every-damn-thing on that side. The water was the only way out, but it hadn't worked for Gail. The fish weren't even jumping anymore. They just slid over one another. I felt like I'd been put through a blender. It was even worse now. Gail had jumped out of the frying pan, into the fire. Fire! I had a thought. Would it work? I had no idea, but monsters are always afraid of fire, right?

  "Di! What are you doing?" Heather said, trying to hold onto my hand.

  "I've gotta try!" I said, squirming free. I ran back to the grill. The yellow bottle of lighter fluid and electric lighter were both still there. I booked it as hard as I could toward the rocks. Stupid bushes scratched my legs. I sprayed the lighter fluid. Did it just move? You like this stuff? I sprayed again, getting closer and clicking the lighter. Heather called after me. Laura yelled for help.

  Light. Heat. A giant's hand swatted me backward. The screaming stopped, replaced by a roar. And a snap. Rocks stabbed into my back, my side, my arm. My whole body felt like the sunburn I got in fourth grade. Worst way to miss a week of school ever.

  "Come on!" Laura yelled as she sprinted from the flames and smoke. I could barely make out the words. She yanked me to my feet. I grabbed the lighter fluid as she did. "We've gotta get out of here!" I shot the flammable stuff again, spraying as far as I could reach. Laura lit the fluid, making a flamethrower like in the movies. Parts of the golden cra
p burned and exploded, pieces landing in the lagoon. But it wasn't enough to escape yet.

  Flame ran up the stream toward the bottle. I freaked. The bottle flew out of my hand onto the stuff. It started to sink in. Oh god, not again! I thought, turning away. Laura threw an arm around me and forced me down behind a bigger rock.

  The second fireball singed off both our hair, pulled some major blisters on our backs and necks. Bits of rock dug into Laura's shoulder. I peeked up over the rock. The orange bastard was off the rocks. The jetty was clear. I grabbed Laura's hand and helped her up, not letting go as we ran back to the others.

  The water fountained as we ran when something like a huge arm rose out of the water, flinging fish everywhere. It crashed down on the rocks where we'd been seconds before. How is this not over?

  We flew onto the beach. Heather waved me forward, calling for me, crying. The smell of burned whatever it was, burned fish, burned hair and other stuff I didn't want to think about rolled through with black smoke. We gagged, but we ran.

  I burned. I stung. Every time Heather touched me to comfort me, I cried out.

  Every war movie I'd ever seen ran through my head. I couldn't think of anything but getting away. I snagged my shorts as we hobbled along past them. My phone and keys were in there.

  Minutes later, in the rearview, we saw the creep reach up again and again, eventually hiding all the bushes and rocks. The riot of movement from the fish, the waves, was replaced by creepy stillness.

  The next week, we all gathered for Gail's funeral. There wasn’t even a body to put in the ground. I couldn't believe how wrong it had all gone. We had just wanted some fun. We had checked the "weather." But we were wrong, and Gail paid. My burns, scrapes, even my busted elbow were nothing compared to the pain I felt from what my brilliant idea cost her. How could I even face her mother?

  When the moment came, I just cried, my chin shaking, tears, snot, and sweat running down my face. She took my hands in hers, accidentally tweaking my elbow in its sling. I thought of the child I'd been a month before, how I would have whined and griped, but now the pain was just a reminder. Gail may not have been the first casualty in the war with the "Golden Creep," as they're calling it on the news, but she was the first one I knew.