be sitting down at the dinner table together, something families hardly ever did anymore, but which my mother insisted on. I’d been skipping those meals on Tuesdays and Thursdays, since I had to teach a six o’clock class, but I tried to make it when I could.
None of that was happening, though. And it wasn’t happening for Devin’s girlfriend Lori, or my own friends Elena and Tori and Brittany, or — or anyone . All across the city…the country…the world…people were suffering and dying, and no one could stop it.
That realization made the enormity of the whole situation come crashing down on me. I let out a choked little sob and fled my brother’s room, running down the stairs to the family room so I could turn on the TV, could reassure myself with the sound of someone else’s voice, even if the newscasters were following the commands of people who might already be dead. I had to know a world still existed out there beyond my house, even if it was a world swiftly falling apart.
But when I picked up the remote and turned on the television, nothing came on to reassure me. Some stations blank, others showing a “please stand by” message, others with a test pattern of colored bars. My heart rate sped up as I moved from channel to channel, thinking that there had to be at least one still broadcasting, one that hadn’t been abandoned.
AMC seemed to be showing a rerun of The Walking Dead , which had to be someone’s idea of a sick joke, as I didn’t think that show ever ran before nine o’clock at night due to its content. And that wasn’t even the worst. Farther up the band, on a channel I didn’t recognize, the screen was black, with words in stark white emblazoned across it:
And I beheld when he had opened the sixth seal, and, lo, there was a great earthquake; and the sun became black as sackcloth of hair, and the moon became as blood….
I wasn’t much of a Bible reader, but even I recognized the quote from Revelations.
Making a disgusted sound, I clicked off the TV, then turned when I heard my father come to the door and lean against the frame, his shoulders slumped.
“It is the end of the world,” he said softly.
That couldn’t be my father — my hard-nosed, practical father, the one who made sure I knew how to shoot, how to catch a fish and clean it, how to change the oil in my car and swap out a flat tire. Nothing ever fazed him. But now some underlying steel seemed to have given way, his firm jaw somehow loose, his eyes blurred with sorrow.
“Dad?” I said uncertainly.
“She’s gone,” he told me, voice flat. “While we were down in the kitchen.”
The words didn’t seem to make any sense. Or rather, my mind refused to make sense of them, because if I understood those words, I’d know in that moment my mother was dead, and I just couldn’t face that. Not yet.
For the longest moment, I didn’t say anything, only stared up at him as I turned the remote I held over and over in my hand, its familiar rectangular shape suddenly alien, cold and hard. Not wanting to hold it any longer, I set it down on the coffee table.
“No,” I said at last.
“Yes,” he said softly. “It doesn’t look like she suffered. At least, not like some that I’ve seen. You’d almost think she was asleep.”
“Maybe she is asleep,” I protested. “Maybe you just thought — just thought she was — ” I couldn’t say the word. Not in connection with my mother. If I said it, then it would be true, and I couldn’t bear that.
He didn’t bother to contradict me, only watched me. Something of the no-nonsense father I was used to was clear in those eyes. They said, I don’t want to believe it, either. But that doesn’t make it less true.
That hard knot was back in my throat. My eyes burned. For some reason, though, the tears wouldn’t fall. They just remained where they were, burning like acid.
Finally, I asked, “What should we do? Should we — ” I couldn’t even finish the question.
None of that was happening, though. And it wasn’t happening for Devin’s girlfriend Lori, or my own friends Elena and Tori and Brittany, or — or anyone . All across the city…the country…the world…people were suffering and dying, and no one could stop it.
That realization made the enormity of the whole situation come crashing down on me. I let out a choked little sob and fled my brother’s room, running down the stairs to the family room so I could turn on the TV, could reassure myself with the sound of someone else’s voice, even if the newscasters were following the commands of people who might already be dead. I had to know a world still existed out there beyond my house, even if it was a world swiftly falling apart.
But when I picked up the remote and turned on the television, nothing came on to reassure me. Some stations blank, others showing a “please stand by” message, others with a test pattern of colored bars. My heart rate sped up as I moved from channel to channel, thinking that there had to be at least one still broadcasting, one that hadn’t been abandoned.
AMC seemed to be showing a rerun of The Walking Dead , which had to be someone’s idea of a sick joke, as I didn’t think that show ever ran before nine o’clock at night due to its content. And that wasn’t even the worst. Farther up the band, on a channel I didn’t recognize, the screen was black, with words in stark white emblazoned across it:
And I beheld when he had opened the sixth seal, and, lo, there was a great earthquake; and the sun became black as sackcloth of hair, and the moon became as blood….
I wasn’t much of a Bible reader, but even I recognized the quote from Revelations.
Making a disgusted sound, I clicked off the TV, then turned when I heard my father come to the door and lean against the frame, his shoulders slumped.
“It is the end of the world,” he said softly.
That couldn’t be my father — my hard-nosed, practical father, the one who made sure I knew how to shoot, how to catch a fish and clean it, how to change the oil in my car and swap out a flat tire. Nothing ever fazed him. But now some underlying steel seemed to have given way, his firm jaw somehow loose, his eyes blurred with sorrow.
“Dad?” I said uncertainly.
“She’s gone,” he told me, voice flat. “While we were down in the kitchen.”
The words didn’t seem to make any sense. Or rather, my mind refused to make sense of them, because if I understood those words, I’d know in that moment my mother was dead, and I just couldn’t face that. Not yet.
For the longest moment, I didn’t say anything, only stared up at him as I turned the remote I held over and over in my hand, its familiar rectangular shape suddenly alien, cold and hard. Not wanting to hold it any longer, I set it down on the coffee table.
“No,” I said at last.
“Yes,” he said softly. “It doesn’t look like she suffered. At least, not like some that I’ve seen. You’d almost think she was asleep.”
“Maybe she is asleep,” I protested. “Maybe you just thought — just thought she was — ” I couldn’t say the word. Not in connection with my mother. If I said it, then it would be true, and I couldn’t bear that.
He didn’t bother to contradict me, only watched me. Something of the no-nonsense father I was used to was clear in those eyes. They said, I don’t want to believe it, either. But that doesn’t make it less true.
That hard knot was back in my throat. My eyes burned. For some reason, though, the tears wouldn’t fall. They just remained where they were, burning like acid.
Finally, I asked, “What should we do? Should we — ” I couldn’t even finish the question.
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