by Ryan Husk
“Hell of a sight, eh?” said Morrison. That was his downstairs neighbor, the old guy who lived alone since his wife Helen died.
“Ever see anything like that?” Edward asked him.
“Never in my life. Damnedest thing. I saw those Jehovah’s Witnesses leaving out from your place earlier. Saw them pointing at the sky, too. It’s been a-goin’ on for fifteen, twenty minutes now. Damnedest thing.”
Edward nodded, then jumped into his black Jeep Wrangler, reached behind the passenger seat and patted his go-ready bag to make sure no one had messed with it, and pulled out of his parking spot. He paused for the Mexican neighbor’s kids to clear a path for him. He waved at them, smiled at the parents sitting on the curb, and headed up Highway 41, headed south. Edward checked his watch: 9:27 AM.
T-minus six minutes.
* * *
What are you doing? he thought. Gordon lowered the gun again, and wept. This isn’t you. This isn’t you. This isn’t you. This isn’t you. It made as little sense as what Molly had done. Had it all piled up on him so badly, though? Being laid off certainly had him frightened, but Molly leaving him…
This can’t be real, he decided.
All at once, the tears stopped flowing. Realization dawned.
She wouldn’t leave me like this, especially not now.
The gun in his hand was suddenly an alien thing. What the fuck had he been thinking? He stood up, knees buckling then straightening, buckling then straightening. He dropped the Glock. It smacked against the floor, on top of the faux fur rug, the one he’d bought for her six years ago at that autumn festival. Gordon eased himself onto the bed, took deep, steadying breaths, and closed his eyes. He shook his head. “She wouldn’t do this,” he told himself. “There’s something wrong. Gotta be. Gotta be something wrong with her. Like a…a…a brain tumor or something.” Yes, that made sense. A glioblastoma. Yes, those had been known to suddenly decay a person’s sanity. Like his Aunt Gladys, she’d acted strangely when she got hers. That made a little more sense than—
What the fuck are you thinking, Gordon? he asked himself. A glioblastoma? Like you know the first fucking thing about the human brain…
Suddenly, it all made sense again. A glioblastoma…yeah, or something like that…it had changed his wife. Menopause did that, too, but she’d already gone through that. Hadn’t she? Fallout from menopause could cause depression. Other things could have contributed. Happened all the time. A delayed mid-life crisis, perhaps? People suffered a year or two of “craziness” when that happened to them.
All at once, it all sounded stupid again. No, this isn’t menopause or depression or a mid-life crisis or a case of brain cancer. She’s had it with me. And who can blame her? I’ve had it with me.
Then, he was back again to believing Molly had suffered some physical or psychological trauma. Or both. Gordon’s mind flip-flopped back and forth, vacillating between one kind of reasoning and another.
Looked at the gun again. No longer made sense to go that route.
The tremors hit. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he said, and began laughing. “I nearly fucking killed myself.” Tears came streaming out. And he couldn’t stop laughing. He was so terrified.
Outside, it grew darker. The sun had vanished.
T-minus three minutes.
* * *
The bell rang.
Janet was the last one out of her seat. She put her iPhone in her purse, but took her time standing and throwing it over her shoulder. Jesse was always slow leaving class, and she liked to be beside him when they were stepping out.
She reached the door the same time he did—perfect timing! She hoped he would do it again today, just like he did last week. Jesse had only done it that one time, but ever since then she had been waiting for—
He did it. The thrill went up her spine and down her legs when he touched the small of her back, inviting her to go through the door first. Janet hid her demure smile behind her hand, which she surreptitiously used to push a lock of hair behind her ear. Everything was disguised, including her true affection. Jesse didn’t know it—she couldn’t let him know it yet, because she didn’t trust herself just yet with him—but all he had to do was ask her to skip school, go someplace quiet, and she would. What they did once they got there…she wasn’t so sure. It was a hazy premonition, one filled with at least some touching, but maybe more. She didn’t know, and that’s what terrified her. That’s what excited her.
“You going to Amanda’s this weekend?” Jesse asked, as though there was nothing between them.
Janet liked this part the best. The uncertainty of flirting, not really sure whether that’s what they were doing or not. “Yeah, totally,” she said. “I mean, like, her brother might be there, so that could be, like, a total fucking drag, but whatever.”
“Yeah, dude’s a dick, right?” he laughed.
She laughed. “Oh my god, totally! Like, he’s like this jerk all the time, especially when, like, other people are around that, like, he knows really well, like, his friends.” Janet knew that she was doing it again. She was saying like every few words. It was a habit Casey, her old boyfriend that lasted only two weeks the year before, had pointed out. It had driven her crazy to hear him pick at her. One more item to be self-conscious about.
“Yeah, I know,” Jesse was saying. “If Toby’s there it’ll be worse.”
“Oh my god, totally!” And totally; she said that too much, too.
But all was forgotten when they moved past the lockers to the double doors that led outside, because that was when he touched her a second time. He means it, she thought. It was becoming a habit. He doesn’t do that for anybody else. Guys don’t do that to their guy friends, and Jesse doesn’t do that for his sister.
The sky was mostly clear. What few clouds there were looked like peeled cotton candy, spread out around the horizons. The sun was shining just over the top of the gym, where they would have to part ways. Jesse had to go to gym class, and Janet had to go to Mrs. Bryant’s reading enrichment class, an elective she had taken because Jesse had, and she had hoped that they would end up in the same period—they hadn’t.
The walkway was cluttered with other students. Janet waved to Miranda and Tiffany as they hustled on to Ms. Bulger’s science class. The janitor, Maxwell, was up on a tall ladder putting up streamers for this weekend’s big game with Cartersville High School’s big rivals. A banner was already up: Cartersville Hurricanes vs. Cassville Colonels! COME SEE THE CANES LAY A BEAT DOWN ON THE COLONELS!
“Gonna be at the game?” Jesse said.
“Oh, yeah, totally,” she said. “Like, yeah. Miranda and Tiffany will be there. Tiffany made it through tryouts. She’s, like, on the cheerleading squad now. Like, I think she, like, starts this coming game or something.” At that moment, her watch started beeping. Time to check her blood-sugar.
“Cool,” Jesse said, watching her fumble through her purse for her kit.
“And, like, Katie said her and Brian are gonna be there. They’re, like, back together, goin’ out again, or whatever.” She pricked her finger with the pin—she barely winced, she’d gotten used to it by now—and ran the tiny blood drop on her glucose meter even as they walked. It took a couple seconds.
“Cool.” He looked at her, looked away quickly. “I…I like your hair today.”
Janet smiled again. “Thanks, but you said that already. In class, remember? Your text?”
“Oh. Right.” Embarrassed. Not good. He looked away, tried to look casual, like he didn’t care.
Stupid! she screamed inwardly at herself. So what if he already said it! You don’t have to tell him! Now he thinks you think he’s stupid, like he can’t remember—
“But thanks,” she said, by way of pathetic rescue.
“Yeah,” he said. Few seconds of awkward silence. They plodded on.
The glucose meter chimed: 102 mg/dl. That was fine. She put the glucose meter back in her kit and tucked the kit inside her purse.
Screaming
from her side. They both turned to look. Patrick Brenner had just tackled Juan Castillo. The two big lugs had some strange ritual where they met between classes and quickly wrestled on the ground, each trying to pin the other. Teachers often had to break the two of them up, each boy laughing and high-fiving once it was over. Stupid boys.
A hand on hers. It happened so abruptly she didn’t register it at first. Janet looked down, then up at Jesse, who was looking away like he didn’t want to see her face if she rejected him. Janet said nothing, just squeezed. He squeezed back.
T-minus one minute.
* * *
“Aw, c’mon, man! Are you fuckin’ serious?” Edward honked at the two idiots stuck in the fender bender, neither one pulling their vehicle to the side of the road, a Pontiac Grand Am and an SUV clogging the main artery into the parking lot of Third Southern National Bank. He honked his horn once for the rubberneckers in front of him. It worked about as well as shouting at an umpire through the TV.
On the radio, Soft Cell was doing their rendition of “Tainted Love.” Edward sang along through grinding teeth. “Sometimes I feel I’ve got to…bump-bump…run away! I’ve got to…bump-bump…get away from the pain you drive into the heart of me! The love we shared, seems to go nowhere…”
When he finally got around the two vehicles he zoomed around an octogenarian moving along in a Lincoln Town Car, cut across lanes without signaling and entered through the side of the parking lot that said DO NOT ENTER. Edward’s phone had been buzzing. He didn’t talk or text while driving. Not safe. When he parked, he looked down at his phone. All the texts were from Bradley. First one: Yo man got car trouble can u take me to work?
Edward sighed, texted back: Sorry bro already at work myself.
“Once I ran to you,” he sang. “Now I run from you. This tainted love you’ve given…”
Checked his watch. Going to be a little late for work. So be it. World’s gonna end in thirty minutes anyway, he thought. Went to put his phone back in his pocket, dropped it between the seats. “Goddamn it!” Reached down, fumbled for it with his fingers. Sighing, he opened the door and stepped out so that he could get a better angle on the phone. Fingertips touching the top of the cell. Almost got it. Working it up in stages. Almost got it. Almost…
Suddenly, the world became white.
There was a flash. Light everywhere. It was bright. So bright that he shut his eyes against it. His face, buried as it was between the seats, hadn’t taken the brunt of it, but it was everywhere, all over everything. Kept his eyes shut, hands over them, phone forgotten.
Screams.
Tires screeching.
“What the f—” somebody started, and then stopped.
It was over ten seconds later. Well, not over. The light diminished to a manageable radiance. More screams, more screeching tires, the crunching sound of glass, aluminum, and fiberglass. The world became it.
Edward shouted, “Fuck me!” He kept saying it, too. Somehow it helped. “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me…” The hand in front of his face shielded the light. He still couldn’t tell from whence it came. Then, the rumbling. The ground shook. Not an earthquake. He already knew what this was, had been waiting on it his entire life, knew that it was only a matter of time.
But even as the knowledge hit him, he still didn’t believe.
Even as the ground trembled beneath his feet and a strong, hot wind rushed across his face and pushed him back, Edward remembered to open his mouth. He opened wide, to alleviate the pressure on his eardrums. While he did this, he felt his skull compressing, and thought, I told them!
And there it was, a rising cloud of mangled gray, white, and black. Rising, rising, rising in the south. Atlanta. He looked away quickly, only saw it briefly because the light was still so intense.
Atlanta. Up in smoke.
Jesus Christ, this was it.
He stood staring at it, wondering if he was actually dreaming. It made more sense to be dreaming, because when you spend so much time waiting for something to happen, when it finally happens you tend to disbelieve.
The cloud rose higher and higher.
All around him, people screamed.
Then, something inside his mind clicked.
Not a moment to lose. This was it. This was fucking it! Edward dived back into his jeep, slammed the door shut, and buckled in. He closed his eyes, opened them, closed them, opened them again. “They work,” he said to himself, then threw the Wrangler into reverse. He went a bit too far, though, and slammed into a Mazda parked behind him. Threw it back into first, turned hard left, and slammed the gas.
Edward’s fingers stabbed back into the crevice between the seats, felt the cell phone. He’d almost gotten it out. He didn’t look southeast, that’s where it would be coming from. Just steered with his knees, shielding his eyes with one hand, prying the iPhone out with the other…
“Jesus. Oh, God. Here we go, here we go, here we—”
Then, there came a sudden darkness. Edward looked up at the sky, and thought he was going insane. There was…a large rock in the sky. Or, no, a large, miles-long black cloud. It was somewhat translucent, moving fast, expanding and contracting like a flock of birds, changing directions at random.
“What…the…hell?”
The world grew darker as the sun was blocked by this vast black cloud, which soon splintered many fingers, tendrils reaching out through the sparse white clouds. It grew into a spider’s web, yet spread across the white sky like spilled ink.
The sun’s rays fought to push through the cloud, the effect of which put the morning at a dusk-like hue.
Was this an illusion? Was this somehow connected to the mushroom cloud he saw in his rearview mirror? The black cloud became more translucent, until at last it completely disappeared.
Had it been an atmospheric illusion?
The rumble grew louder all around him. The loud boom followed, along with a stronger wind. It was like a lightning bolt striking only a few feet away, the resultant thunder deafening him for a few seconds. His teeth rattled. The trees alongside the road bent backwards as the shockwave reached him. Edward’s Wrangler was buffeted from all sides, he veered into other parked cars, managed to correct and avoid slamming into them. The light diminished a bit more. He didn’t look southeast, but he did cast his eyes to the sky, to the dark, amorphous cloud that had reappeared and was spreading over the world.
A nuclear explosion had taken out Atlanta, no doubt about that, but there was something else happening in the sky.
Cars had slammed into one another. Almost none were moving. The Grand Am and the SUV’s fender bender was the least of the worries now. Any driver up and facing southeast at the time of detonation was flash-blinded by a light as bright as a million suns, and wouldn’t see for several minutes to several hours, many of them never again, retinas permanently seared. The flash traveled at the speed of light, after all, beating both the sound of the explosion and the blast wave.
Then, Edward noticed it was getting hotter. The heat inside his jeep increased dramatically. Jesus…Jesus, this is it! Actually fucking it! After years of telling people the world would end in thirty minutes, it had just happened. Just now. As in now.
He turned the air conditioning on full blast as splinters, leaves, and large chunks of wood smacked against the windows.
Edward was uncommonly cool, calm, and collected. Everything he saw around him was processed quickly, yet everything seemed to be happening in slow motion. He was detached from it, half knowing there was an excellent chance he would die soon, half realizing that there was nothing else to do but drive. Yet still, the data poured in through his eyes and ears and he processed it all.
A woman standing outside her hybrid Prius, hands clutching at her face, her eyes wide, screaming like she was possessed. The intersection away from South National Bank clogged, not a degree of order at all. A t-boned motorist lying half out of the driver’s side door, blood running down his arm. A child running away blindly from a c
ar that had gone off into a ditch, the child smacking into a tree, blind. A young hippie with a T-shirt that said “ALL YOUR BASE ARE BELONG TO US” crawling on the ground away from his car…BAM! Some rogue car, driven by a blinded motorist, ran him over.
“Jesus…”
The phone was in his hands somehow. Another miracle of his brain going on automatic. He turned onto Montgomery Street, headed for Busbee Drive. Edward dialed and drove at the same time for the first time in his life. Put the phone to his ear. No answer.
A stronger wind, this one gale-force, buffeted his jeep again. The Wrangler rocked to one side, then swayed back as the wind went back the other way, as though a great, heaving beast was taking another breath before an even stronger one could—
The next one was stronger. The Wrangler was blown into a ditch. Four-wheel drive got it back out. He tossed the cell phone into the passenger’s seat to drive with both hands, crashed through the white picket fence and sign of a local pharmacy, cut through the parking lot, rode with the wind a bit and smacked up against two more parked cars before knocking over a woman groping at the air for her equally blinded child. Edward never glanced in his rearview, just corrected as best he could and made it onto Busbee.
Almost everyone he saw was at least partially blinded. He had been saved from the flash because he’d had his head deeply buried in his vehicle, searching for his phone at the time. If not…I’d be just as hopeless as these fucks.
Edward tore his gaze from the road and looked at the sky. That dark cloud was still spreading, moving east, faster than a flock of birds now.
The world had turned a sickly orange-gray—the sun was still rising in the east, somewhat blocked by the outskirts of the cloud now, the light coming off the fireball and the changes to the atmosphere were altering the way light dispersed. Most cars weren’t moving. They couldn’t. The people were blinded and parked or else were smashed into one another or in a ditch. Edward realized in a daze, It all looks like a child rammed all his toy cars into one another, and forgot to put them away.