Amir Baghira New York, NY October 3rd, 1991
My last day on Earth. Please let my last day on Earth please Allah. I have nothing left to live for. So I give my life for Allah and the al Qaeda. My family perished at the hands of a faceless and godless government. Now I am alone save for my new brothers.
Yesterday I received my final instructions. Drive the van to 26 Federal Plaza. Park as close as you can to the building. Wait for the end of the work day. (This way the streets will be full of cattle unaware of their imminent slaughter.) Detonate the explosives. Get busy with my 72 virgins. Man, they better be right about the virgins.
I leave our apartment in New Jersey. It is a filthy pitiful place but it meets our needs. It is cheap and isolated. We have spent the last three weeks collecting the needed supplies. Now we fill the van with the explosives we made out of various household products and cooking ingredients. The deadly packages fill most of the cargo space in the van. The detonator is made out of a car battery bought at a local hardware store. When the time comes, I will detonate the explosives by taking two ends of battery cables attached to the battery and close the circuit by touching them together. I should feel nothing.
The van is now loaded. I say good bye to my brothers. They look at me with awe and envy, wishing they were the ones to carry out this task. I have been chosen because of my years of loyalty and dedication to the cause. Right now they must move on to the next phase of our mission. They must drive North West to Chicago. Find another isolated location in the city and wait for instructions. Their opportunity to make the ultimate sacrifice will one day come.
As I drive it begins to rain. The cattle bring out their umbrellas. Will they melt if they get wet? In my homeland the rain is celebrated. People would be seen dancing in the rain and letting it drench their entire bodies.
The buildings seem to lean and tower over me like a school yard bully tormenting his victim. I still have not overcome the suffocating feeling I get when in the city. Sometimes I feel as if they are tilting over and will eclipse the sky. Eventually they will tumble down on top of me burying me in their steel and concrete rubble.
My claustrophobia intensifies as I traverse the Holland Tunnel. This is what it must feel like to be buried alive. I take deep breaths and focus my attention on the road. It takes all of my willpower to keep myself from passing out. My tension is relieved when I can see the end of the tunnel approaching. The tightness in my chest eases and I am able to breathe at a normal pace.
It grows near the end of the work day for the cattle. I must hurry. More slaughtered cattle are better. As I near my target I see no available parking spots. Double parking will draw unwanted attention from the authorities. This will not do. I circle the building until I find one close enough. After I park the van I scan the streets. They are not nearly crowded enough. The cattle have not yet begun their death march. I must wait.
I see a woman hurrying a young child along, sheltering him with her umbrella. I feel no pity for them and I have no remorse for what I am about to do. Although I do not believe the child is any threat to me or my cause right now, there will come a time when he will be. The filthy cow headed Americans do not know what terrible things their government has brought upon my people. Nor do they care. They go to their prison cells for eight hours a day. They are chained there by telephone and computer wires. Then they go home and lock themselves into their suburban coffins. They are chained there by their television sets and Internet. All they know is what the media tells them. They believe they are good because they are told they are good. They do not see what evil their mere existence causes others.
I must focus. The streets are becoming more crowded. The time draws near. I watch the cattle pour out of their prison towers and fill the streets. They open their umbrellas or pull their collars close around their necks. Despite the rain and cold they are overjoyed to be released from their prisons for another evening. It will be a pleasure to end their miserable existence.
It is time. I get up out of the driver’s seat and start moving to the back of the van. I am jolted off of my feet and I land on the floor between the driver and passenger seats. Someone has run into the van with their vehicle. I sit up and look to the rear of the vehicle. I can see a red sport utility vehicle pressed up against the back doors of my van. The idiot must have been going too fast and slid on the wet streets. I curse him under my breath. I must detonate the explosives before the police come to investigate.
I pull the tarp off of the battery and find the cables which will act as the detonator. I have wrapped the metal ends of the cables with towels and taped them in place to avoid an accidental closing of the circuit. I did not want the explosives to detonate accidentally before I was anywhere near my target. I pull off the tape and remove the towels. The time has come. I say my final prayer and hope that the gift of my life pleases Allah. I close my eyes, bow my head and bring the battery cables together.
Nothing happens. I sit there for a few seconds with my eyes closed and listen. I can still hear the large rain drops explode as they impact the roof of the van. I look up at the cables in my hands. The metal ends are in fact touching each other. I pull them apart and say my prayer again. Once more I close my eyes, bow my head and bring the battery cables together.
Still, nothing happens. A cold streak of fear rises in my stomach and fills my entire chest. Soon I will hear a rap on the window. A police officer will be asking me to get out of the vehicle. He will be concerned about my safety and insist that I get out. Once I am out he will notice the tarps in back and inquire about the objects beneath them. Spending the rest of my days in an American prison is a shame that I cannot bear. I must flee.
I move to the front of the van and try to look out of the front windshield. The rain blurs my vision. There does not appear to be any movement at all. I can see a glow from what appears to be a fire from up the street. Nothing else appears to move.
I roll down my window and look out. My eyes must deceive me because what is happening cannot be a reality. The sidewalks are lined with fallen cattle. No one moves. It is as though everyone on the street fell asleep at the exact same moment. Cars are scattered everywhere. Some have smashed into other cars and some have just rolled to a stop. Others have made their way onto the sidewalks and plowed through groups of people. I can see the tire tracks on the coats and suits of the people who were crushed under the wheels. I hear car alarms and a horn being continually sounded. I hear an engine racing somewhere behind me. Smoke and flames pour from a delivery truck that smashed head first into a building a block ahead of me. I am in a state of shock and confusion.
I am afraid to get out of the van. I stare at the bodies that seem to surround me. Will what happened to them happen to me? If so, what is the delay? Why has it not happened already? I appear to be in the center of a mass suicide.
My fear subsides slightly and I am able to get out of the van. I look up and down the street. There is no movement for as far as I can see. The cattle have all fallen. My mind feels like a cyclone of water swirling down a giant drain. Each thought that comes into my mind is quickly replaced by a question or wiped away by a horrific scene. I cannot think straight. There are no answers to any question that my mind produces.
Is this an act of Allah? Have I done my deed and moved on? Is this my heaven? Or hell?
Monday, June 23, 2008
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
Sunset: Survivors
Two Days Earlier
Stan Howard Las Vegas, NV October 3rd, 1991
I can’t believe this is happening, Stan thought. I have never been an overly lucky guy but this is ridiculous.
Stanley Eugene Howard was the senior programmer at a prestigious software company located in Northern Phoenix. He had driven up to Las Vegas the night before. It was a long drive but Stan found it very relaxing. He could not relax at work. His boss was an asshole and was always on Stan’s back. Stan could not possibly work any harder or any more hours than he already was. This vacation was a way to blow off some steam before returning to the rat race in a few days.
Now Stan stood at a crap table in one of the biggest casinos in Las Vegas. He had held the dice for almost an hour. Twelve passes in a row. He was up almost $22,000. He could not lose. No matter where he put his money, the number would come up. $50 hard four. Hit it. $100 crap. Hit it. $500 yo. Hit it. $1,500 on the pass line. Needs a six. Rolls a thirty-three. The money was just pouring in.
Everyone at the table was going crazy. Finally, Stan was THE MAN! Women were actually talking to him. Touching his arm and asking his name. Why couldn’t my parents have given me a more manly name, Stan thought? Something like Nick or Joe. Those were manly names. Those were names of men who took action. Those were names of men who got things done. Men who didn’t take shit from anyone. Especially from programming managers.
Stan bought a round of drinks for the table. Every one cheered. Stan dreamed of being the big shot but had never lived it like this. The dice felt cool in his hand. The green felted table seemed to stretch out for a mile. The women were more beautiful than they had been an hour ago. His Pina Colada tasted better than it had five minutes ago. Everything was perfect.
With every win the pit boss glared at him. Stan didn’t care. He wasn’t cheating. In fact he had never won at craps in his life. He had just learned how to play a few months ago. Bill Felton, another programmer on his team invited him to tag along on a bachelor party. Bill taught Stan the basics of craps and that was all she wrote. Stan was hooked.
The stick man shoved the dice in Stan’s direction. “Dice out!” he hollered. Stan picked them up and asked the blonde to his left to blow on them for luck. The blonde obliged and winked at Stan. Stan turned the dice over and over in his right hand. The cubes felt smooth and perfect on the tips of his fingers. Stan wanted to savor this moment as long as he could. He drew back his arm and sent the dice spinning to the far end of the table. The dice seemed to tumble in slow motion. The ladies were screaming. The men were howling. Stan was having the time of his life. “One more time!”, Stan screamed. The dice concluded their journey.
“Thirty four!” yelled the stick man.
Another winner. Stan raised his hands in triumph. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes and let out a jubilant scream that shook the sparkling chandeliers. He stood basking in the moment, head thrust back, arms raised and gazing at the beautiful mural on the ceiling. Stan was on top of the world.
Silence.
Silence void of human voices. The slot machines kept dinging and ringing. The piped in music kept playing. But the voices had stopped as though someone had turned off a channel in Stan’s brain. That channel was the one that allowed Stan to hear other peoples’ voices. That channel was no longer broadcasting.
Stan lowered his gaze from the ceiling. Half of the people at the table were lying on the floor. The other half looked as though someone were strangling them. They had blue faces and were unable to speak. The blonde to his left was on her knees and clutching at Stan’s pant leg. “What’s wrong?” Stan half yelled and half whimpered. He was scared shitless and could not figure out what was happening. Is this a joke, Stan thought? The blonde could not reply. She collapsed the rest of the way to the floor. Her head thumped on the bright, busy casino carpet. Blood started to trickle out of her nose.
Stan turned and scanned the rest of the casino. No one was left standing. Some people were slumped in their chairs and others half leaned on the tables they were at. The rest lied motionless on the floor. Drinks lay spilled on the floor and cigarettes burned in ash trays or smoldered on the carpet. Casino chips lay in piles of colorful displays or were scattered like polka dots on a colorful summer dress. It was like being in a graveyard of fun with lights and sounds but all alone. He felt his knees go weak and his stomach felt ice cold.
Stan focused his attention on the chips he had won. He scooped them up and put them in his pants and coat pockets as quickly as he could. He then made his way across the casino to the elevators carefully stepping over the fallen bodies. He pushed the call button and waited patiently for the elevator to arrive. When the doors opened, Stan saw two elderly ladies lying on the elevator floor. Blood flowed out of the mouth of one and the other thankfully lay face down. Stan didn’t want to see any more dead faces. He whispered excuse me to the fallen ladies and entered the elevator careful not to step on any body parts. He pushed the button for the sixth floor and stared straight ahead as the elevator doors closed.
Stan Howard Las Vegas, NV October 3rd, 1991
I can’t believe this is happening, Stan thought. I have never been an overly lucky guy but this is ridiculous.
Stanley Eugene Howard was the senior programmer at a prestigious software company located in Northern Phoenix. He had driven up to Las Vegas the night before. It was a long drive but Stan found it very relaxing. He could not relax at work. His boss was an asshole and was always on Stan’s back. Stan could not possibly work any harder or any more hours than he already was. This vacation was a way to blow off some steam before returning to the rat race in a few days.
Now Stan stood at a crap table in one of the biggest casinos in Las Vegas. He had held the dice for almost an hour. Twelve passes in a row. He was up almost $22,000. He could not lose. No matter where he put his money, the number would come up. $50 hard four. Hit it. $100 crap. Hit it. $500 yo. Hit it. $1,500 on the pass line. Needs a six. Rolls a thirty-three. The money was just pouring in.
Everyone at the table was going crazy. Finally, Stan was THE MAN! Women were actually talking to him. Touching his arm and asking his name. Why couldn’t my parents have given me a more manly name, Stan thought? Something like Nick or Joe. Those were manly names. Those were names of men who took action. Those were names of men who got things done. Men who didn’t take shit from anyone. Especially from programming managers.
Stan bought a round of drinks for the table. Every one cheered. Stan dreamed of being the big shot but had never lived it like this. The dice felt cool in his hand. The green felted table seemed to stretch out for a mile. The women were more beautiful than they had been an hour ago. His Pina Colada tasted better than it had five minutes ago. Everything was perfect.
With every win the pit boss glared at him. Stan didn’t care. He wasn’t cheating. In fact he had never won at craps in his life. He had just learned how to play a few months ago. Bill Felton, another programmer on his team invited him to tag along on a bachelor party. Bill taught Stan the basics of craps and that was all she wrote. Stan was hooked.
The stick man shoved the dice in Stan’s direction. “Dice out!” he hollered. Stan picked them up and asked the blonde to his left to blow on them for luck. The blonde obliged and winked at Stan. Stan turned the dice over and over in his right hand. The cubes felt smooth and perfect on the tips of his fingers. Stan wanted to savor this moment as long as he could. He drew back his arm and sent the dice spinning to the far end of the table. The dice seemed to tumble in slow motion. The ladies were screaming. The men were howling. Stan was having the time of his life. “One more time!”, Stan screamed. The dice concluded their journey.
“Thirty four!” yelled the stick man.
Another winner. Stan raised his hands in triumph. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes and let out a jubilant scream that shook the sparkling chandeliers. He stood basking in the moment, head thrust back, arms raised and gazing at the beautiful mural on the ceiling. Stan was on top of the world.
Silence.
Silence void of human voices. The slot machines kept dinging and ringing. The piped in music kept playing. But the voices had stopped as though someone had turned off a channel in Stan’s brain. That channel was the one that allowed Stan to hear other peoples’ voices. That channel was no longer broadcasting.
Stan lowered his gaze from the ceiling. Half of the people at the table were lying on the floor. The other half looked as though someone were strangling them. They had blue faces and were unable to speak. The blonde to his left was on her knees and clutching at Stan’s pant leg. “What’s wrong?” Stan half yelled and half whimpered. He was scared shitless and could not figure out what was happening. Is this a joke, Stan thought? The blonde could not reply. She collapsed the rest of the way to the floor. Her head thumped on the bright, busy casino carpet. Blood started to trickle out of her nose.
Stan turned and scanned the rest of the casino. No one was left standing. Some people were slumped in their chairs and others half leaned on the tables they were at. The rest lied motionless on the floor. Drinks lay spilled on the floor and cigarettes burned in ash trays or smoldered on the carpet. Casino chips lay in piles of colorful displays or were scattered like polka dots on a colorful summer dress. It was like being in a graveyard of fun with lights and sounds but all alone. He felt his knees go weak and his stomach felt ice cold.
Stan focused his attention on the chips he had won. He scooped them up and put them in his pants and coat pockets as quickly as he could. He then made his way across the casino to the elevators carefully stepping over the fallen bodies. He pushed the call button and waited patiently for the elevator to arrive. When the doors opened, Stan saw two elderly ladies lying on the elevator floor. Blood flowed out of the mouth of one and the other thankfully lay face down. Stan didn’t want to see any more dead faces. He whispered excuse me to the fallen ladies and entered the elevator careful not to step on any body parts. He pushed the button for the sixth floor and stared straight ahead as the elevator doors closed.
Thursday, June 12, 2008
Sunset: Survivors
Chad Grable Wichita, KS October 5th, 1991
I knew this was going to happen. Well, not this exactly but I knew something was going to happen. They all laughed at me and told me to move to Montana with those militia people. Who’s laughing now? Those fucking militia guys are probably running the state up there. They were prepared. They knew something like this was going to happen. So did I. I could have been more prepared but it’s not like I was totally unprepared. I have a gun. No one knew I had a gun but I do. I was afraid to tell anyone. I figured they would rat me out to my parents or someone.
It happened two days ago when I was walking home from work. Since graduating from high school two years ago, I have worked at Movie Time, the local movie rental store. It’s a cool job when the jackass manager isn’t yelling at me to get to work. I get to watch the newest movies before anyone else in town and they are free for employees to rent. I also don’t have to do very much. Put tapes away and run the cash register.
Anyways, I was walking home from work like I do every day. I’ve been trying to save up for a car but my dad says I’ll never be able to afford a car working at Movie Time. He says I better get my act together soon or he is going to kick me out on my ass. Fuck you very much, dad. My mom wants me to either go back to school or get a better job. She says I am wasting my life working there and hanging out with losers. The bitch is half right. I do hang out with a bunch of losers. Randy is my closest friend but he thinks he’s so much smarter than everyone else. Sometimes I would talk about the end of the world and what it would be like when the government no longer ruled our lives with their taxes and laws. He would laugh at me and call me a dumb ass. “You wouldn’t last two minutes without the government telling you what to do.”, he’d say. Well, I’ve lasted almost 3 days so far. You’re the dead dumbass.
It was about 5:15 in the afternoon when I first noticed something was wrong. As I walked home I thought I heard some yelling from behind me. I turned to look and noticed that there was smoke coming from the parking lot of the grocery store across the street from where I work. I couldn’t hear what the people were screaming about. I figured it was a traffic accident or something. I kept walking home. A few minutes later, I heard a loud crash and an explosion came from a couple blocks over. There is a gas station over there. Someone must have run into the gas tanks or something. Man, what the hell is going on?
When I got home the house was dark and empty. I called out that I was home but no one answered. Usually my mom beats me home. She works at the bank on the other side of town but she gets off at 4:30. Usually she is sitting at the kitchen table when I walk in. She then welcomes me home with some advice about my hair or my job or my life. No advice today. (Or ever.)
I went upstairs and got in the shower. I had plans to hang out with my girlfriend Sheila that night. We planned on hanging out at the bowling alley or something. She’s not that good looking but at least she puts out. I showered and changed into some jeans and a Bart Simpson “Don’t have a cow, man” t-shirt. When I went downstairs no one had gotten home. I went out the back door and cut through the alley to head to Sheila’s house. I could still smell smoke.
Sheila has been my girlfriend for about six months. We get along pretty good when she’s not being a pain in my ass. I would have dumped her a long time ago but I have come to the realization that fucking her is better than jacking off.
Sheila lives about three blocks away from my house so it is only about a ten minute walk. Thinking back on it now, it was odd to have not seen anyone on the walk over. But when you’re twenty years old and have nothing on your mind but getting drunk and getting laid, not much else matters.
When I got to Sheila’s house I knocked for five minutes but no one answered the door. The neighborhood was really quiet. As I stood there I realized that I hadn’t seen anyone since I left the movie store. What’s going on? I stood on Sheila’s lawn and looked up and down the street. It was like being in a dream. There was no noise except for the wind swaying the trees. Not a person in sight. At first I started getting pissed off thinking Sheila had stood me up. The little guy in my head was whispering something else though. I couldn’t make out what he was saying and I don’t think I wanted to. I wasn’t ready to admit that there was anything seriously wrong yet.
I decided to head over to the gas station to see what the explosion was about. I got about half way there when I noticed an old man laying in his yard. It looked like he had been gardening. He was laying face down in the flowers he had been tending to. It looked like he had been planting a new row of roses along the walk that led up to his house. I ran over and yelled at him to see if he was all right. The old fart didn’t move. I shook him by the shoulder and he still didn’t move. I felt his wrist like they do in the movies to see if he had a pulse. Nothing. He must have had a heart attack or something. Sucks for him.
I kept moving toward the gas station. I had to find someone. I figured I would talk to a cop or a fireman and let them know about the old man. As I came around the corner to the main street at the end of my neighborhood, I could see the flames from the gas station two blocks away still burning out of control. They flames had to be at least fifty feet high. The smoke it was giving off was as black as severe storm clouds. It was rolling into the sky like a never ending waterfall but in reverse. There were no fire engines or police cars around either. There was no one around at all. All I could see was a mess of cars here and there. No one was moving. No one was doing anything. As I walked up the street, I looked into the cars as I passed. I didn’t need to feel their wrists. They were dead. Everyone was dead. Some had blood coming from their eyes. Others had it running from their nose or mouth. A girl about my age was slumped over toward the driver side window with her hand hanging out of the car. She appeared to have been driving when she died. Her car smashed into a light pole and her head must have smashed against the steering wheel. She had an upside down U shaped dent on her forehead. It was almost like she had a bruise unibrow.
I thought I was going to be sick. It was like walking through some kind of weird graveyard where people were buried above ground in their cars. Almost all of them had their eyes open and most of them looked terrified.
The heat became unbearable as I drew near the gas station. The orange flames continued to churn upward toward the darkening sky. A van that takes the retards to and from school had run into the gas pumps. It was on fire and so was everything else around it. I couldn’t get any closer if I wanted to. My face burned when I looked directly at the flames as if I had my head in an oven. There was nothing I could do anyway. There was no one to save. Everyone was gone.
After that I went home. It was starting to get dark and I didn’t want to be outside when it did. I was scared shitless. I did my best not to look at the bodies as I passed them but I couldn’t help myself. I was afraid they were going to move or I would turn around and find a group of them quietly following me.
When I got home I tried the T.V. but all I got was snow. The phones didn’t work either. I sat on the couch in my dark and cold living room and waited. For what I don’t know. No one came home. They must all be dead.
That was 2 days ago. I have eaten almost all the food in the house. Most of the food went bad before I could eat it so I was forced to eat canned meals. Cold canned soup isn’t so bad. Canned vegetables make me want to puke but I can’t afford to be very picky at this point. The lunch meat and milk went bad almost immediately. The refrigerator smells horrible every time I open the door so I try not to. I need to go out for supplies but I am scared. I should have been more prepared.
I knew this was going to happen. Well, not this exactly but I knew something was going to happen. They all laughed at me and told me to move to Montana with those militia people. Who’s laughing now? Those fucking militia guys are probably running the state up there. They were prepared. They knew something like this was going to happen. So did I. I could have been more prepared but it’s not like I was totally unprepared. I have a gun. No one knew I had a gun but I do. I was afraid to tell anyone. I figured they would rat me out to my parents or someone.
It happened two days ago when I was walking home from work. Since graduating from high school two years ago, I have worked at Movie Time, the local movie rental store. It’s a cool job when the jackass manager isn’t yelling at me to get to work. I get to watch the newest movies before anyone else in town and they are free for employees to rent. I also don’t have to do very much. Put tapes away and run the cash register.
Anyways, I was walking home from work like I do every day. I’ve been trying to save up for a car but my dad says I’ll never be able to afford a car working at Movie Time. He says I better get my act together soon or he is going to kick me out on my ass. Fuck you very much, dad. My mom wants me to either go back to school or get a better job. She says I am wasting my life working there and hanging out with losers. The bitch is half right. I do hang out with a bunch of losers. Randy is my closest friend but he thinks he’s so much smarter than everyone else. Sometimes I would talk about the end of the world and what it would be like when the government no longer ruled our lives with their taxes and laws. He would laugh at me and call me a dumb ass. “You wouldn’t last two minutes without the government telling you what to do.”, he’d say. Well, I’ve lasted almost 3 days so far. You’re the dead dumbass.
It was about 5:15 in the afternoon when I first noticed something was wrong. As I walked home I thought I heard some yelling from behind me. I turned to look and noticed that there was smoke coming from the parking lot of the grocery store across the street from where I work. I couldn’t hear what the people were screaming about. I figured it was a traffic accident or something. I kept walking home. A few minutes later, I heard a loud crash and an explosion came from a couple blocks over. There is a gas station over there. Someone must have run into the gas tanks or something. Man, what the hell is going on?
When I got home the house was dark and empty. I called out that I was home but no one answered. Usually my mom beats me home. She works at the bank on the other side of town but she gets off at 4:30. Usually she is sitting at the kitchen table when I walk in. She then welcomes me home with some advice about my hair or my job or my life. No advice today. (Or ever.)
I went upstairs and got in the shower. I had plans to hang out with my girlfriend Sheila that night. We planned on hanging out at the bowling alley or something. She’s not that good looking but at least she puts out. I showered and changed into some jeans and a Bart Simpson “Don’t have a cow, man” t-shirt. When I went downstairs no one had gotten home. I went out the back door and cut through the alley to head to Sheila’s house. I could still smell smoke.
Sheila has been my girlfriend for about six months. We get along pretty good when she’s not being a pain in my ass. I would have dumped her a long time ago but I have come to the realization that fucking her is better than jacking off.
Sheila lives about three blocks away from my house so it is only about a ten minute walk. Thinking back on it now, it was odd to have not seen anyone on the walk over. But when you’re twenty years old and have nothing on your mind but getting drunk and getting laid, not much else matters.
When I got to Sheila’s house I knocked for five minutes but no one answered the door. The neighborhood was really quiet. As I stood there I realized that I hadn’t seen anyone since I left the movie store. What’s going on? I stood on Sheila’s lawn and looked up and down the street. It was like being in a dream. There was no noise except for the wind swaying the trees. Not a person in sight. At first I started getting pissed off thinking Sheila had stood me up. The little guy in my head was whispering something else though. I couldn’t make out what he was saying and I don’t think I wanted to. I wasn’t ready to admit that there was anything seriously wrong yet.
I decided to head over to the gas station to see what the explosion was about. I got about half way there when I noticed an old man laying in his yard. It looked like he had been gardening. He was laying face down in the flowers he had been tending to. It looked like he had been planting a new row of roses along the walk that led up to his house. I ran over and yelled at him to see if he was all right. The old fart didn’t move. I shook him by the shoulder and he still didn’t move. I felt his wrist like they do in the movies to see if he had a pulse. Nothing. He must have had a heart attack or something. Sucks for him.
I kept moving toward the gas station. I had to find someone. I figured I would talk to a cop or a fireman and let them know about the old man. As I came around the corner to the main street at the end of my neighborhood, I could see the flames from the gas station two blocks away still burning out of control. They flames had to be at least fifty feet high. The smoke it was giving off was as black as severe storm clouds. It was rolling into the sky like a never ending waterfall but in reverse. There were no fire engines or police cars around either. There was no one around at all. All I could see was a mess of cars here and there. No one was moving. No one was doing anything. As I walked up the street, I looked into the cars as I passed. I didn’t need to feel their wrists. They were dead. Everyone was dead. Some had blood coming from their eyes. Others had it running from their nose or mouth. A girl about my age was slumped over toward the driver side window with her hand hanging out of the car. She appeared to have been driving when she died. Her car smashed into a light pole and her head must have smashed against the steering wheel. She had an upside down U shaped dent on her forehead. It was almost like she had a bruise unibrow.
I thought I was going to be sick. It was like walking through some kind of weird graveyard where people were buried above ground in their cars. Almost all of them had their eyes open and most of them looked terrified.
The heat became unbearable as I drew near the gas station. The orange flames continued to churn upward toward the darkening sky. A van that takes the retards to and from school had run into the gas pumps. It was on fire and so was everything else around it. I couldn’t get any closer if I wanted to. My face burned when I looked directly at the flames as if I had my head in an oven. There was nothing I could do anyway. There was no one to save. Everyone was gone.
After that I went home. It was starting to get dark and I didn’t want to be outside when it did. I was scared shitless. I did my best not to look at the bodies as I passed them but I couldn’t help myself. I was afraid they were going to move or I would turn around and find a group of them quietly following me.
When I got home I tried the T.V. but all I got was snow. The phones didn’t work either. I sat on the couch in my dark and cold living room and waited. For what I don’t know. No one came home. They must all be dead.
That was 2 days ago. I have eaten almost all the food in the house. Most of the food went bad before I could eat it so I was forced to eat canned meals. Cold canned soup isn’t so bad. Canned vegetables make me want to puke but I can’t afford to be very picky at this point. The lunch meat and milk went bad almost immediately. The refrigerator smells horrible every time I open the door so I try not to. I need to go out for supplies but I am scared. I should have been more prepared.
Sunset: Synopsis
Synopsis
Follow the path of three different men in three different cities as they deal with the end of civilization as we know it. In a matter of hours, ninety eight percent of the Earth’s population was exterminated. Forty eight hours later, the dead have disappeared.
For the survivors, existence has become a massive struggle. However, survival becomes much more difficult after…….
Sunset
Follow the path of three different men in three different cities as they deal with the end of civilization as we know it. In a matter of hours, ninety eight percent of the Earth’s population was exterminated. Forty eight hours later, the dead have disappeared.
For the survivors, existence has become a massive struggle. However, survival becomes much more difficult after…….
Sunset
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