What do you do when the world goes to Hell in a hand basket? The world was already there, sure. But this was the end of the world. It was the end of everything. Some of the others will tell you it was “The Beginning” or some crock of shit like that. I know the truth, though. It was the end of all humanity as we knew it.
I was proven right on this by Sunday, but again, no one wants to admit that. Even when you’re the last people on earth, you still want to remain blind if the truth is too painful to see. Even if the truth might save you, you’ll choose the lies that damn you, if it means you can hold on to false hope a little bit longer.
Reaper’s Sabbath – I named it that, because that’s what it was. It was a final rest at the command of the Reaper. Death consumed everything. Death consumed all. Death forced everyone to rest in honor of the Reaper.
So what does someone do when they’re alive at the end of the world?
Whatever the hell they want, cause nothing matters anymore. Why would it, when everyone is dead? Everyone you knew. Everyone you loved. Everyone you hated. Everyone who tried to help your fucked-up self. What does anything matter, if you’re forever alone till the day you finally get to that eternal rest yourself?
Nothing mattered to me that day.
Nothing.
Saturday, April 14, 2012
5:45 p.m.
“O, that this too, too sullied flesh would melt.
Thaw, and resolve itself into a dew
Or that the Everlasting had not fixed
His canon ‘gainst (self-slaughter!) O God, God,
How (weary,) stale, flat, and unprofitable
Seem to me all the uses of this world!”
AJ was lying in bed, absorbed in his book as he read it aloud to himself. Ever since he’d read his first play in middle school, he’d been addicted to Shakespeare. Often, he could be found reading one of the many plays aloud to himself. At the moment, he was reading his worn-down copy of his favorite work of Shakespeare, Hamlet. Perhaps once he was out of this place, he’d try acting, once he got sick of being the literal version of the starving artist.
“I’ll make love to you… like you want me to…” He smiled at the song playing faintly in his ears. Despite what everyone thought, he really enjoyed Boys II Men. Although he’d never tried that sort of music himself, found himself expressing his soul in the darker forms of music, he always considered the group one of his favorite bands. There was something soothing and soulful about their music that he really couldn’t get enough of. He’d had his iPod play their songs on repeat all day. So he adjusted the volume and continued his reading.
For the past hour of so, he’d been just reading, and waiting for the time when he would be asked to “join the group” and do some so-called “socializing.” The power was down everywhere else, had been since around eleven o’clock that morning. When it had gone down at the rehabilitation center, the caretakers had said they would handle it. But that was as they’d basically been hacking up a lung.
Personal sessions had been cancelled that day, due to the therapist, unsurprisingly, being too sick to meet with anyone. So, AJ got to have the day to himself, alone in his room, the way he liked it. Private time was rare, so he decided to enjoy it while he could. He spent the day painting, writing, reading, even playing a bit of music on his old, beat-up guitar that he still owned out of sentimental value. Even with all the weirdness that seemed to be going on, he still expected the group time with anyone still well enough to watch TV in the recreation room, since you didn’t get one in your personal room.
And there was TV, because sure enough, the generators had kicked on, twenty minutes after the caretakers had reassured everyone. AJ had just decided to stay in his room. He was positive he would end up sick soon enough. When he was younger, he’d been the type to catch any bug that passed by him. He’d gotten sick easily, and although he’d become more resilient as an adult, it still didn’t take a lot for him to get sick with something, compared to most individuals.
He marked his place, even though he almost knew the play by heart and, therefore, really didn’t have to. He always read it as if it was his first time. Setting the book down, he sat up and stretched. Grabbing his sunglasses, he slipped them on and chanced a glance at the clock upon the nightstand next to his bed. He raised a brow at the time. Usually, they came by to bug him by no later than 4:30 in the afternoon.
He turned off his radio, first time he’d done so all day. He stood, and he listened.
For the first time in his life, AJ heard silence. Complete, true, and unwavering silence. He couldn’t hear the other guys muttering as they walked down the hallway, or noise from the rec room television. He couldn’t hear the counselors popping into rooms and checking on other residents, while spouting off some cheerful quote AJ felt was a crock.
Grabbing his paint kit, for no real reason other than just feeling like he needed it, AJ walked out of the room and was shocked to find the hallways empty. There was always someone. He made his way to the wall phone further down. Time to call his mother and tell her he was blowing this joint. Something didn’t feel right, and AJ always felt he should trust his instincts. His hand picked up the phone, and he found it to be dead.
“What a time not to have my damn cell phone.” Taken when he moved in, as so he couldn’t attempt to get alcohol smuggled in. They had to use the land line, for that could be monitored. And, of course, that was dead. His gaze went to the recreation room just a few feet away, and he saw that everyone was dead right along with the phone. The counselors, the residents, the janitor, everyone.
AJ dropped the phone in shock. All of them looked the same: pale, spotted with purple sores, dried vomit covering their faces and the carpeted floor. Common sense told him they’d all died of the same disease. They had died maybe hours before, AJ guessed, but that was long enough. Was this the same thing that had been playing all over the news? Stepping forward, he reached for the remote and took it from a dead man’s hand.
The TV played nothing but static.
AJ was a lot of things. He was an addict, he was suffering from depression, he was blunt, he was harsh… but he wasn’t stupid. There was news of a disease spreading and everyone dying up north. Suddenly, the news was down, the power was down, and everyone around him was dead. Whatever had hit up there had crashed down in Florida and killed them all. For all AJ knew, he could be the last man left alive.
“Fuck this; I’m getting the hell out of here.”
He ran. He ran out of the residency and onto the road. The place looked like the nuclear holocaust had happened or something. Cars crashed into each other all over the road, in the field, into trees. Everything was a silent chaos. As silent outside as it had been inside. He clutched his art set to his chest as a substitute security blanket.
I need a drink, he thought. I really, really need a drink. And a hit. I need a hit. But first, a drink.
AJ continued running down the road, as a breeze blew into his face, spreading the stench of death to him faster than it would have gotten to him otherwise. His feet carried him as he picked up his pace, trying to run from the horrors even his mentally disturbed mind couldn’t have fathomed till now. Suddenly, the urge for cocaine that he’d been fighting the past ten days came rushing back to him. The taste of alcohol burned in his mind as he begged for it then. He wanted it.
He passed so many bodies along the road. Bodies on the ground, bodies in cars, on benches, on the counters in stores, leaning against open doors. Bodies that stared up at something that he couldn’t see. Corpses were everywhere, littering the areas around him carelessly. AJ actually envied them. He’d tried to end it so many times, had come close once. He’d always failed, yet everyone else in the world seemed to die without even trying. Something about that didn’t seem fair.
Finally, after running for so long, with thoughts only of satisfying the addiction he’d been fighting pointlessly, he came upon an old-styled tavern, welcoming him with open arms.
He knew he shouldn’t. He knew his mother would be upset if she knew. But his mother was dead. Of that, AJ was certain. If she wasn’t, she would have came for him once the chaos started. No matter how old he was or how much he’d hurt her, she would have still come to save her only son. She hadn’t come, hadn’t called the residency, and that said it all. The only thing that would have stopped her was death. Somewhere inside, he felt she was gone.
He walked inside the tavern. So what did it matter anymore? Who cared if he was an addict? Everyone was dead, so the way he saw it, all bets were off.
***
He groaned hours later. His head pounded as he lifted it up from the bar counter. AJ rubbed his eyes and put on the sunglasses he had set on the counter earlier. He had the migraine of a lifetime. Various open bottles of alcohol were sitting before him, many empty, others only half-empty. The barkeep was on the floor on the other side, dead like everyone else. He glanced at the time, before remembering the power was out everywhere.
“Guess my tolerance went down since I went dry…” he murmured to himself, too unnerved with the neverending quiet. His head pounded in response, and he regretted vocalizing his thoughts. Maybe the quiet did have a benefit at the moment. Rubbing his eyes again, he finally looked around enough to actually reabsorb his surroundings.
How long had he been passed out? The last thing AJ remembered was going in and mixing himself every drink imaginable, not giving a damn if the alcohol was warm or not. He’d fix himself a drink, down it, mix himself another one, down it, and had kept repeating the process till he’d fallen into oblivion.
It was dark out. The tavern was almost pitch black, and the only light was the one the moon provided to him. AJ sighed. He didn’t know what to do next. He wanted a hit, but where the hell was he going to track down cocaine?
“I picked a hell of a time to try dropping this shit,” he muttered, as he stumbled his way out of the bar. He wasn’t sure what his plan was. Maybe he’d walk along the road till he found a car he felt like hotwiring. After his head stopped pounding, anyway. He kept walking down the road and processed his actions. He knew he shouldn’t have done it; it wasted all that effort in getting sober, and, dead or not, his mother would be upset with him. She was the reason he had tried to stay dry in the first place.
He vowed silently not to do it again. AJ knew, in the grand scheme, nothing mattered anymore, if it ever had. He’d always thought nothing mattered and felt this chaos proved him right. Still, he’d keep to his promise, in honor of his mom, the one woman who had believed in him and never stopped.
His thoughts paused when he saw brights glaring at him further up the road. Brights. That meant a moving car, and that meant someone other than him was alive. He could care less who it was; he just needed someone who was actually still alive by some chance like himself.
“HEY!” he screamed, trying to wave the car down and get into view. “HEY!”
Once he got a good look beyond the blinding headlights, he saw it was a well-kept purple Lexus being driven, and there were two people inside, a well-dressed businessman and a young, punk-styled woman. The car slowed and pulled up beside him.
“Hey, man…” AJ lifted up his shades again. It pained his eyes and increased his headache, but he did it anyway. “I thought no one was alive…”
“I’m Kayleigh, and this is Howie-”
“Howard,” the well-dressed man said. AJ found him to be a bit too stuffy.
“Howie. And we’re on our way to the Air Force base in Tampa. There are survivors there.” She grinned happily, full of hope AJ knew would slowly kill her once she found it to be false.
“Mind if I bum a ride with you?”
His eyes were filled with contempt for AJ, but Howie nodded. “Get in.”
