I saw an old television set just sitting in the road. It wasn’t plugged in, but it was playing a show. The show was about a town devastated by a massive tornado back in the early 21st century. I sat down in the roadway and watched. The images were very white, bleached out almost, and the fringes were an acid pink color. A lot of things looked like x-rays—toppled trees, dismantled churches, crushed schools, imploded cafeterias, bodies huddled like gargoyles, and they were spinning up into the vortex—stone was being turned into electricity.
The damage was catastrophic. I had to turn it off. I just sat there in the road and then realized there was damage all around me. Did I just survive a tornado? Is my mind fucking with me? I reached into my pants pocket and retrieved some candy. I got real sad sitting there and started believing that I was a terrible failure. I slapped my own face. “Stop it!” And then I got the taste of green apple in my mouth and then there was a tree that hadn’t been there before, and it was sprouting big, shiny green apples. I got up and plucked one off and bit into it. It was crisp, a bit sour, but refreshing.
There was rubble everywhere and it made me think of Barney Rubble. Plumes of hazy smoke rose up into the air like ghosts coming out of graves in a cemetery. Trees were splintered, cars were overturned, homes flattened. The personal belongings of so many lives were strewn across the path of the tornado and beyond.
“Hello,” I called out. “Is anyone alive?”
I didn’t know where to go or what to do. I followed a road as best I could. There was so much debris, and it was hard going. I came upon a blown-out Taco Bell. There were beans and dreams tossed about. I came upon a bank that still stood because it was made of stone, but all the windows were shattered. I went inside and discovered that there was money all over the place. I thought about it and then I thought about it again. It wouldn’t be right, but I’ve been poor my whole life. I’ve always struggled and suffered for it—simply not having enough green pieces of paper. That’s when I decided I was going to rob the bank. I’ve always wanted to rob a bank. I stuffed my fists full of bills and forced them into whatever pockets I had.
That’s when I heard a gun cock and a shaky voice say, “Hold it right there, mister.”
I slowly turned to look, and I saw a security guard on the other side of the bank counter. I had no idea where he came from, but he was battered and bloody and covered in dust. He was an old man, skinny, gray hair. A retired cop?
“It looks like you’re badly hurt,” I said to him.
“None of your damn business how hurt I am. I’m tough. You’re weak. Look at you gathering up the means to live for so many other people. You’re stealing.”
“It’s the end of the world. It doesn’t matter,” I told him.
“If it’s the end of the world, why do you need money?” the guard asked. “There’s nothing to buy at the dead-end store of life… You just take it. Now, empty your pockets of all that money.”
“If money doesn’t matter anymore, what’s the harm if I take it?” I said. “Maybe some god or gods will give it a second thought and let the world go on.”
The old guard thought for a moment. A religious man, I guessed. But then he leveled the gun and took a firm stance. He pointed it right at me. “Then I guess it won’t matter if I just take you out right now. If the world does go on, these folks will want their money back.”
He was serious. And that’s when I decided to bolt. The gun went off, but I was already out the doorway, at least what was left of it. I ran up the littered street as fast as I could, leaping over debris, side-stepping debris. I stopped to catch my breath. I turned around and saw a distant figure slowly marching toward me. It was the guard. He still had the gun raised but he was slow. He fired off another shot. Way off target. All I had to do was put out another good rush of running and I’d be far ahead of him. I could change direction, lose him forever. So, I ran again.
I came upon a half-wrecked hotel. I found a room that was still in decent shape and decided to take shelter there. I kept going to the window to see if the old guard was outside stalking me. I never saw him. I wanted to take a shower but there wasn’t any water. I emptied my pockets of all the money and threw it on the bed. There was a lot of cash. I sat in a chair they had there and pushed a button on the TV remote. To my surprise, the set illuminated. The power was out otherwise.
But what I saw on that screen was the oddest thing. It was more or less a reflection of myself. It was me sitting in the chair looking at the television set. But like when I found the TV out on the road, the images were bleached white with an acid pink outline, and I was merely a skeleton. Like an x-ray. I sat back in the chair and just stared at my skeletal self. Then the phone in the room rang, and I nearly jumped out of my skin. It rang and rang, loud and alarming. I got up and went to the desk where the phone sat and stared at it. I finally reached out my hand and picked up the receiver.
“Hello.”
Special thanks to Edge of Humanity Magazine for publishing three of my poems recently: Coffee Shop Rain, The Translucent Wander Pain, and Space Curtain. Please go check them out! Also, a reminder that my new e-book is now available for purchase: The Apocalypse Pipe. The print edition will be available soon. Thanks for reading and supporting independent creators.
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