The Apocalypse — A Short Story

My name is Genessy and I live 1.4 miles from the edge of the Apocalypse.

Day 200; 9am

It appeared here 200 days ago. Before that, it was in rural Kansas, and before that in Brooklyn. Before that it was only a mile away in Brooklyn. It has killed:

111,152 people in NYC

1,576 in Kansas

6,472 in Washington

3,834 people in Texas, to name a few

It’s been 24 years. 1,361,036 deaths. 3 of those deaths were my mother, grandfather, and brother.

I haven’t seen their bodies yet. I’ll see them once the Apocalypse moves on, in roughly 3 hours.

Note:

I apologize if I’m bogging down the story with all my numbers. It’s what I do. The Apocalypse started when I was in 1st grade, and my middle school math teachers would give us geometry questions related to the size of the apocalypse and algebra questions related to projected deaths if the Apocalypse moved to specific areas. I’ve kept it up ever since I dropped out of high school.

I’ve been trying to figure out if there is a pattern to the Apocalypse’s movements. It seems random- sometimes hitting cities, sometimes the middle of nowhere. Sometimes it jumps the country. Sometimes it returns to the same city. Always in the United States. Always a 2.5 mile radius. Always 200 days.

I guess I should describe what the Apocalypse looks like. Personally, I’m more interested in the numbers, but I guess you probably aren’t. The Apocalypse comes from the sky. You know what it looks like when it’s raining in the distance? How the clouds seem to extend down and touch the earth, obscuring your sight? That’s what the Apocalypse is like, only it kinda glows, like they have their own sun. You can sorta see the shapes of buildings through it, but no one has ever been able to get a message through.

10am

I am getting ready to go to the Apocalypse site to look for my family’s bodies. I mostly just need to make sure I have my mom’s gun. It’s really the only thing I pack. I’ve been counting down the days until this moment. I know nothing will change between now and then. I’ll still be alone. Well, it will still be me and my brother’s dog. I’m taking him with me. Maybe he’ll be able to find their bodies for me.

You might be asking why I’m so sure they’re dead. In 24 years, not a single person has ever survived. It’s theoretically possible, I suppose. We don’t know what kills everyone, but we do know two things:

Not everyone dies at the same time.

Not everyone dies in the same way.

But everyone dies.

Eventually.

11am

I’m walking now towards the Apocalypse. It hasn’t started receding yet, but there’s still about an hour. It rises up like a wall of rain, shining dully with some alien light. I don’t really care where it comes from. I just care about predicting where it will move next. That would make more of a difference in people’s lives than knowing where it came from. The country lives in grief 200 days a year, and in terror for 24 hours, wondering who will die next.

At least I won’t live in grief any longer; my family has already died.

It used to keep me up at night, worrying about how they were dying, if it had happened yet, if they were still in there trying to survive. I could have gone in and looked for them. But once you are in there, there’s no coming out again.

In the end, I decided to live. At least this way I have a chance at figuring out the pattern. Maybe I can do some help.

Note:

I’m not doing this entirely altruistically. What I mean is, I’m not just doing this to help the world. This is the only reason I have left to live. It’s the only thing I care about anymore. This keeps me alive. If I found any other reason to live, would I give this puzzle up? Maybe. It’s a selfish motivation. I just tell myself I want to help the world so that I don’t hate myself so much.

11:30am

I arrive to the edge of the Apocalypse. There are others already waiting. Those with anxious faces are like me, waiting to see how their loved ones died. Others carry empty bags and glare at everyone. They are scavengers, looking for cell phones, TVs, cars, jewelry, and anything else they can rob from the bodies. I feel the gun in the pocket of my grandpa’s windbreaker and turn back to the Apocalypse. I don’t feel any of the terror the rest of the nation is experiencing right now. I don’t really feel that grand sense of determination I expected, either. I don’t really know how I feel. I’m almost there more from 200 days of commitment than anything else. But I am there, so I might as well go with the plan. Maybe I’ll find something useful.

12pm

Slowly, the wall of rain-like substance recedes into the sky. We can now see the buildings in the affected area. We wait until the clouds recede completely and the orange glow fades. I take a deep breath and enter.

Everything is dead. No people, no animals, not even insects or grass have survived. This is the first time I’ve been to a post-Apocalyptic site immediately after it left.

It is quiet.

I start to see bodies around me. There is no decay, though according to records, they will start decomposing now that the Apocalypse has lifted. I look at their faces quickly, but just to see if I recognize anyone, before moving on.

I see a neighbor and a classmate, but they aren’t who I’m looking for. Their families are probably out there looking for them too. Hopefully they’ll get to them before the scavengers.

My family was going to the supermarket, so I go there first.

The shelves of the supermarket are completely empty. That’s another indication that some people survive longer than others. But they aren’t dying of starvation. No one is particularly emaciated. Some die of suffocation, some from blood loss, some from internal bleeding. There are wounds, blunt trauma- things that mean someone did this to them. Everything makes you believe that you could almost survive these things.

Except the fact that no one ever does.

I don’t find my family inside the grocery store.

I find my grandfather in the car in the parking lot. His eyes bulge in their sockets and he has bruises around his throat. I close his eyes and move on. I let the dog sniff around, though he is clearly uncomfortable. He whines softly and looks at me with pleading eyes. I tell him to go on. I am relentless. I have to be.

It takes me almost an hour before I find my mom and brother, even with the dog’s help. They’re under a tree, right on the edge. There’s a house with boarded windows nearby that might have been someone’s shelter. My brother has an inch wide hole in his chest. My mom’s head is in a bucket, drowned. I can’t tell when they died, since there’s no decay. I only know that the blood is dry and the water evaporated. I slip my mom’s wedding ring off her finger and pocket their phones. Hopefully they kept a diary, though no one has ever been able to extract information from phones before. It’s always corrupted. The dog licks my brother’s face forlornly, but follows when I call.

I leave as soon as I can.

1pm

I am walking back to my house. I feel such a sense of…unfulfillment. I’ve been counting down on my wall to this moment for the last 200 days. Now what will I count down to? What will I look forward too? Others are walking back too. We’ve done what we set out to do. We can now have closure, if that even exists.

The Apocalypse should have chosen its next destination by now. It takes 60 minutes for it to find a new home for the next 200 days. I feel a glimmer of sadness for the poor souls it will consume next. I concentrate on trudging home. There’s nothing I can do to help them, at least not yet.

I hear gasps and cries. Someone starts running. I know what is happening, even before I look up. I hold my breath anyways as orange light shines down upon me. I look up and see the strange dry rain extending down around me. My legs give out and I collapse down in the street next to the dog and watch. Someone next to me starts praying. Others are trying to escape. Everyone is either crying or staring around them in shock. I feel that same sense of…finality. Which is a fancy way of saying, I feel empty. The wall touches the ground and the orange light remains steady. It is done. It is over.

Day 1

At least I have something to count down to now.