The Apocalypse

Three friends sit in a basement and wait for the apocalypse.

It’s four o’clock in the afternoon and the apocalypse still hasn’t started yet. Jack is sitting with his ear to the door and his jacket pulled down over his knees. Over in the corner, Mike is lying on his stomach with his nose inches away from the fuzzy image on the television screen. I’m sitting on the floor in between them, beside the old couch, doing a jigsaw puzzle by the light of a candle.

“I’m telling you,” Jack says, “It’s already started. They just don’t want us to know.”

“Bullshit,” says Mike, “I’m watching the news right now.”

Jack laughs.“Don’t be an idiot, Mike,” he says. “They’ve taken over the news.”

            I turn my head. “Who’s taken over the news?”

            There is a pause. “Robots, maybe?” says Mike. “The TV’s a robot.”

            “Look,” I say, “We’ve already decided on a zombie apocalypse. The news wouldn’t lie about the zombie apocalypse, so there’s no use questioning it. It hasn’t started yet.”

            There is a pause.

            “The newscasters could be zombies,” says Jack.

            “They aren’t zombies,” I say. “Look at that newscaster. If she was a zombie, she’d be all gray and stuff.”

            “He’s right,” says Mike. “Her skin is wicked nice. I guess the apocalypse hasn’t started yet.”

            We sit in silence for a few moments.

            “You guys,” Mike says, “What if the apocalypse doesn’t happen today?”

            “Don’t talk like that,” says Jack. “It’s gonna happen. I just finished barricading the door.”

            I’ve gotten all the edge pieces together, but the whole puzzle is this rainforest scene, so everything is just a different shade of green. It all looks the same under the light of the candle.

            “Can we turn the lights on?” I ask.

            “No,” says Mike. “It’s the apocalypse. The power is out.”

            “But you’re watching TV!”

            “We have cable,” says Jack. “Totally different thing.”

            I lift the candle and bring it close to my face. The long, black wick is shriveled and curled sideways. It’s running low on wax. I set it down on the arm of the couch, hoping to better distribute the light. It doesn’t help. “If we could just turn the light on for a minute or so…”

            “Look, Kenneth,” Mike says, without turning his head from the television. “It’s exactly these sort of questions that’ll get us killed once the apocalypse starts.”

            I throw up my arms. “But it hasn’t started y"!”

            “Shh!” Jack brings a finger to his lips and beckons us over to the door. I abandon my puzzle and stumble towards him, with Mike several paces behind me.

            “What’s wrong?” I whisper.

            Jack’s eyes are squeezed shut. “I hear voices,” he says.

            “Like zombies?” I ask.

            “Zombies don’t talk,” says Mike. “Could be robots.”

            “Robots don’t talk, either.”

            “What about terrorists?”

 “It might be a serial killer.”

“Or a mad axe-man.”

            “Or the NSA.”

            “Shh!” We fall silent and listen. All I can hear is the sound of our own breathing. We sit in silence for a full minute, all listening closely, all our senses trained on the door. There is no sign of movement.

            “Well, I hope you’re happy,” Jack whispers, his ear still pressed against the door. “You scared them away.”

            “Bullshit,” Mike says nervously. “There wasn’t anyone there. It just hasn’t started yet, that’s all.”

I become vaguely aware of a strange smell, which somehow reminds me of my old wood stove during the winter. “You guys,” I say.

            “I don’t want to hear it, Kenneth,” says Jack. “We can talk about your goddamn puzzle some other time.”

            The smell is growing stronger, but I don’t want to look away from the door. “You guys"”

            “And I’m not turning off the television,” says Mike, “Or the apocalypse might start without us, and we’ll never even know it!”

            “You guys!” I shout. “Do you smell smoke?”

            There is a pause.

            “That doesn’t make any sense,” Mike says. “There’s no smoke during the zombie apocalypse.”

            “Or any other kind of apocalypse, for that matter,” says Jack. “At least not at the beginning. Maybe if you get people rioting in the streets"but it’s too early for that.”

            “ Yeah,” Mike says. “And the news would’ve told us if people were rioting in the streets.”

            I could’ve sworn I smelled smoke. “I guess so,” I say. We sit in uncomfortable silence for some time. Mike’s breath smells terrible.

            “Why don’t you go check the television, Mike?” Jack says, after a few minutes of awkward breathing. Mike pushes himself to his feet and turns around. He stands there for several moments without moving. “You going or not, Mike?” Jack asks.

            “The couch is on fire,” says Mike. Jack and I jump up simultaneously. We turn around. The room is lit up by an orange glow which now overwhelms the dim light of the television.

            “I told you!” I run towards the couch, stop, and then back away. I cover my face with my hands and turn around. “Where’d you put the water, Mike?” I ask.

            Mike folds his arms and frowns at me. His disapproving expression is illuminated by the light of the fire. “We can’t waste our water on this,” he says. “It’s the most important resource. If we use it now, we’ll all die of dehydration during the apocalypse. Everyone knows that, Kenneth.”

            The smell of smoke is overwhelming. “We have to get out of here, then,” I say. I push Jack out of the way and try to force the door open. It doesn’t budge.

            “I’m not getting rid of the barricade,” Jack says. I turn around and stare at him.“We’ll all get killed by zombies.” I am starting to feel lightheaded. I take a hesitant step towards the couch. The fire roars angrily as I approach, and I stumble backwards again.

“We have to put it out somehow,” I say.

            “Don’t start with us, Kenneth,” says Jack. “This is all your fault.”

            “Yeah,” says Mike, leaning in close so I can smell his breath. “You and your stupid candles.”

            “You made this mess,” Jack says. “You’re going to have to fix it.” Jack pushes past me and sits down beside the door again. Mike wanders across the room towards the television.

            “You guys are joking, right?” I ask. I can feel the heat of the flames scorching my skin, even from several feet away. They both ignore me. Jack sits with his ear pressed against the door. Mike is lying on his stomach, watching the television. A thick layer of smoke hangs in a dark cloud inches above our heads.

            “We have to put out this fire!” I shout. By this point, I can hardly breathe. I drop to the ground, coughing and clutching my chest. Smoke fills my nose and my lungs. My eyes are watering.

“Nobody’s at the door,” says Jack. “You guys scared them off, I’m sure of it.”

The water in my eyes blurs my vision. I open my mouth to speak, but no words come out.

“The apocalypse hasn’t started yet,” says Mike. “This lady’s skin looks as nice as ever.”