571 words (2 minute read)

Chapter 2

The empty silence of the city was far too uncomprehendingly painful for my ears to take in. I walked down the concrete sidewalk, so unaccustomed to its emptiness. Amazed, my eyes examined the lonely buildings that lined the streets. The streetlights were still on from the night before, and this only further increased my fear that the city’s population had disappeared.

Of course it had, but this reality was far too unrealistic for me to accept. Suddenly, I had an idea. I took out my cell phone, dialing 911. While I didn’t expect an answer, I longed for an explanation. After a few long moments of ringing, I gave up.

“Oh... Oh...” my shuddering voice whispered. “Anyone!” I yelled out, desperation making my voice ragged. “Help!”

No answer. I was desperate, and I was willing to do anything to find some sign of humanity. I limped over to a convenience store, its sign still flashing from the previous night as a beacon to any late night would-be patrons. The door was still unlocked because, thankfully, it was one of those 24/7 stores. Inside, merchandise lined the walls; everything from food to travel accessories. On the front desk sat a mug of cold coffee and a dead cell phone and a folded newspaper.

At this moment how desperate I was became apparent to me. With my cane I knocked over a shelf of porcelain souvenir figurines, allowing them to shatter on the floor, reducing them to thick, white chunks. I waited a moment. Nothing.

I sighed, stuffing my pockets with cigarette packs and beer cans. I opened the cash register and stuffed as many one hundred dollar bills as I could into my pockets. Balancing myself on my good leg, I smashed out the front glass with my cane. An alarm sounded, but nothing else happened. No rushing police or curious passerby, just my pathetic self standing in the midst of the blaring siren.

With my cane I smashed the rest of the windows, shattering their clear, thin panes. Even if I was arrested, at least I’d be in the presence of humanity; still nothing.

I limped out the door, into the middle of the street. I was surrounded by empty cars, abandoned in the middle of their commute. I struggled to climb on top of one of them and lifted my fists in the air.

“Come and get me you worthless bastard pigs! I’m right here!”

The same lack of response I had grown accustomed to. I fell limp on the hood of the car, burying my face in my hands, sobbing. What was going on? Was I dreaming?

“I-I’m...R-right... H-here...” I sobbed, hot bitter tears squeezing out from my eyes and onto the palms of my hands. My shoulders shook as I wept: fear, loss, terror, loneliness - all came pounding in on me like a rushing wave and I couldn’t stop myself from bawling like a baby.

I screamed and cried, memories rushing through my mind: my wife, my son, the neighbor across the hall; mother, father, family gatherings, barbecues, friends partying at our favorite restaurant; the first book launch party to celebrate my first book. My publisher was there, I remembered, the editor, everyone, happy to see the book a rousing success, and of course making them all a lot of money.


Next Chapter: Chapter 3