End of the World. by Terry Kuder III (an ebook reader TXT) 📕

Everything was white. I opened my eyes slowly, allowing my pupils to adjust to the incoming light. My whole body ached from head to toe. It was difficult to move a single finger, much less my whole hand. My hearing was muffled and my head seemed to pound with an endless throbbing. What had happened? I shut my eyes again; the light had damaged them. They ached behind my eyelids, throbbing in unison with my head. With my eyes closed I could still see the light trying to pierce through the little flab of skin that laid before the air and my dilated eyes. I attempted to pry them open again, but the light stabbed away blurring my vision with tears. My hands weighed a ton, proving to be quite the job to lift them. Again, I lifted my eyelids, this time taking on the blinding light. My corneas finally adjusted correctly. My left eye still stung with something that was beneath my retina. I lifted my head slowly, finding that my shoulders were also weighted. Suddenly my breathing became shallow and my chest bent in. Tilting my head forward I found my dilemma: I was beneath a pile of wood and stone. What happened? The aching in my head increased as I struggled with the rubble. I freed my right arm enough to take the little pieces of debris off. As I continued to fight my way through, I heard the wails of sirens off in the distance. The aching came in abundance as I lifted the heavy pieces off; my spine pulsated with pain. I heaved the final token of splintered wood off of me, taking a moment to catch my breath. I wiped my dirtied palms off on my jeans before taking my forearm and wiping the sweat on my forehead. I was taken back when I felt a tinge of pain on my brow. I took my fingers and wiped it across the gash. Sure enough, there was blood. This explained the pain in my left eye; apparently, blood had trickled down into my retina. I wiped what I could with my arm, getting up slowly. I felt my ankle give with the weight of my body. It seemed fractured, or maybe just possibly hurt, or maybe from the lack of blood in my leg; it could have been any number of things. What happened?
Finally emerging from my grave, I looked before me at the burning remains of my house. I tried to take in a deep breath of air, but could only muster in the smoke. I hacked, shaking my whole aching body in a body-quake of agony. Was this a nightmare? If so, this sure was a realistic nightmare. I looked around to see the other houses and they seemed to be in the same mishap that mine was in. The smell of smoke filled the air making breathing a task. What was going on? Why was everything burning and how did I end up under a pile of rubble? Why didn't I realize that I was until I saw it? Was I that numb to the pain? The sirens still echoed in the background. The houses weren't the only thing on fire; the surrounding trees were too. The smoldering ashes blew in the wind, mixing with the smoke, and caused a humid environment only fueling the flames as if to ward off any intruders. I had to get away from the devastation. I started walking, tripping over a couple of pieces of what use to be my home. My whole body still ached and didn't seem as if to quit anytime soon. My ankle was fractured; there was no doubt about that now as I limped out of the wreckage.
How long had I been out? That was a constant question that kept circulating through my thoughts. I attempted to retrace my timeline within my head, but could only maintain fragments. I finally came to the conclusion that this had all happened while I was asleep. Either I was a heavy sleeper or I was abruptly woken up and then quickly taken out, but that assumption would probably never be confirmed nor denied. While conducting my deductive analysis, I also realized one thing: That today was New Year's Eve. What a day for something like this to happen. I didn't know where to go; my house was wrecked and I had no idea if anyone besides me was alive. At that very moment the wind seemed to pick up a gentle breeze allowing me to hear nothing but the sirens. Complete silence; was this a sign that I was truly alone? I was using my hands to support my fractured leg from collapsing when I noticed there was a lump in my pocket. I stuck my hand in and shuffled around for a couple of moments before pulling out my cell phone. I was amazed to find it still intact after being tossed around with me. Who should I call? That was the first question I had thought about that didn't concern my well being. My dad? My mom? My brother? Or... I went through my recent calls until I found the number. I hit send and listened to the phone ring and ring and ring. An answer?! No, just an answering machine. I sighed, but left a quick and brief message enclosing it with sincere affection. I knew where to head to now.
I limped out of my neighborhood and out onto the open roads. What greeted me was more than I was prepared for. The road was in millions of pieces, the asphalt in no organized manner except for chaotic. The smell of gas filled the air as I noticed that the gas station at the bottom of the hill was ablaze. The fields next to me were also displayed in a tattered manner: completely devastated and covered with fire. The heat was unbearable. Sweat poured down my face as I struggled again with my breathing. My leg started twitching in pain as the fervent fire rose in warmth. The craters that interrupted the continuity of the streets were appalling to say the least. Within one of them, a car was flipped over. The windshield was busted, shattered in pieces. There was a body in the metal death trap for the horn was incessantly being pressed. I struggled to the crater in hopes that my negative thoughts weren't correct this time. I climbed over into the crater, almost tripping into it. The vehicle was turned onto the driver's side, so I had to approach it from the passenger's. I pried the door open, fighting through my body's fragile state. I stumbled into the car and shook the body. It was a male. Blood was gushing from his head and his arms were limp on his sides. I tried to shake him again calling him sir in the process. I picked his head up, relieving the wailing of the car. It didn't seem that he was breathing. This was his last sleep. I leaned him against his door and just sat in the seat.
This...this could have been me. I...I could have been dead. I could have been under a pile of rubble and no one would have found me. No one would even have known. Having these thoughts, I searched the man, looking for a wallet. Within his back pocket, I was lucky to find one. His name was James Parker. I placed his wallet back into his pocket before crawling out of the car. I shut the door slowly. There was nothing more I could do. At this time, my leg kicked in again with pain, but this time it was because my phone was vibrating. I looked at the caller I.D. and sighed. It wasn't who I wanted it to be. It was my dad.
"Dad?"
"Oh, thank God." I heard him say.
"Dad, what's going on?"
"Son, I honestly don't know." There was a long pause which told me that even if he didn't know, he did speculate. He sighed. "I think....I think this might be the end of the world..." His words trailed off, but the message was sent clearly. The end of the world? How could that be? How could it be the end of the world? I just couldn't believe it. I refused to believe it. How could he come up with assumption as absurd as this one? Perhaps it was another terrorist attack. Or maybe something else that I couldn't explain. My dad extinguished my questions: "Terry, it's not just happening here. It's happening everywhere. In Florida, all throughout the states, in Europe, Paris, Germany, Asia, Japan, everywhere. There have been worldwide travesties from floods, to earthquakes, to volcano eruptions, to meteors crashing, everything that could go wrong has."
"How is that even possible?"
"I don't know." He answered again. "I really don't know, Terry, but you have to find some way to get over here."
"I...I can't dad." I knew he wasn't going to agree with this. "I need to be somewhere else." He knew where I was talking about.
"Terry, your family is more important and you need to be here with us." I disagreed. "Where is your brother?"
"I don't know." The usual answer. "I think he was staying the night somewhere else."
He argued his point again, but no matter how convincing it was he would lose the argument. "Terry...it's been months. You haven't even heard anything in months. You should just let it...."
"No, dad, I can't. I know that you don't understand, but I have to go over there. I have to. I...I still love her."
There was a long pause. After a short while, he sighed. "I understand, Terry." No he didn't. "Could you at least call me when you get there? Let me know you're ok?"
"Sure. Hey dad?"
"Mmm?"
"Happy New Years, eh?"
"Happy New Years, son. I love you." He choked on these words. The tears started to swell and I could feel the emotion seeping through the discussion.
"I love you too, dad." I closed the phone and started heading down the rest of the hill. My dad was right. It had been months. A word hadn't been spoken to me for months and everyday that passed, it frustrated me to no ends. No matter how much I tried to genuinely talk, it never happened. My life had become an existence for me to peddle around in. Everyday was just another day. I stopped living after the break up and my life was wasted. I didn't try to move on either. I didn't want to. What was the point anyways? I didn't want anyone else. Though I tried to