outside of the flip phone. The screen filled with strange characters. After the third ring, he opened it and before he could put it to his ear, an incredibly loud and high-pitched feedback pierced through his brain, causing him to drop the phone and hold both ears with his hands. Several bright flashes lit the world outside with blinding light. His skin prickled all over. He was sure whatever was happening was the same thing that made everything else disappear.
“What’s happening to me?” he screamed in chorus with the deafening feedback.
Grabbing the cell phone, James clamped it shut with a loud clack and tossed it to the floorboard. That horrible grumbling from the car radio faded back into his hearing. The flashes and the physical sensations continued. He hadn’t even noticed he was hyperventilating.
He gripped the steering wheel tightly and put all his concentration into catching his own breath. Looking up, another flash occurred and he could see the darkness had spread far enough that it was visible above him through the windshield. It certainly wasn’t cloud cover. He forced himself to action.
He started the car and slammed on the gas, squealing tires as he sped forward. He tried to reconcile what he saw with the same reason that failed to shed light on all he had seen since waking up that morning. The darkness wasn’t clouds, it didn’t even look like gas, it was something solid, yet translucent, reflective.
And looking all around out the windows through the flashes, James could see that it covered most of the sky. It was heading west, covering the eastern horizon as far south and north as James could see. He was gaining on 120 MPH, but the darkness was moving faster.
And those flashes. He could barely see between them and the phantom glow they left behind in his vision. Each time they started, there was that awful crispiness all over his skin. It was becoming clear to him, as the darkness spread further toward the western horizon, that driving, even driving west, would get him nowhere. He found an exit, not caring where it was, and sped through the off-ramp.
The thought of the Volkswagen came to mind as he pulled onto a road that probably would’ve been just as desolate before recent events. He wondered if the lady driving that van had managed to survive. He wondered if he was safe. Remembering that he had found someone brought him hope. Maybe there were more people like him, still alive.
After a while of driving the straight, two lane, country road for a long time, seeing nothing more than fields and farmhouses through the bright flashes, James looked at his car radio. The digital display kept alternating between 7:56 and the strange symbols just like on his phone. If his hunch was correct, it was showing the correct time.
He knew then whatever was covering the sky was blocking the sun. He swallowed as he feared the worst. What if it never went away? Tears streamed down his face. All he could think about was Joel. He drove on, weeping in the eerie light of the flashes.
James woke, lying in the front seat of the car, his legs draped over the back of the seat. Sunlight came through the windshield above him. He sat up and looked outside. The darkness was gone. No flashing, no prickly sensation. James had parked the car in an otherwise empty parking lot in front of a small town store. He vaguely remembered finding it, exhausted and unable to keep his body awake. Even then the darkness was everywhere and the flashes went on still. He wondered what time it was. The LED on the car radio was dead. It took him a while to find his cell phone. When, reaching down into the pile of trash on the floorboard, he felt its familiar smooth plastic shell, he plucked it from the mess. It was warm to the touch. Smoke puffed up from behind the blank screen when he opened it. He let out a sigh and tossed it back down.
James stepped out of the car, the rubber soles of his shoes slapping onto the warm pavement. It was the kind of morning when you woke up to the sound of birds and running cars but now the silence seemed to go on forever. James couldn’t stop staring at the surreal, silver-lined clouds swiftly moving through blue currents of sky. He closed the door of the car and it echoed back from the store. Looking around at the empty parking spaces, he wondered why there weren’t any cars. Then it dawned on him. It must have happened in the middle of the night. Small town stores weren’t known for 24-hour service.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out his smooshed pack of cigarettes and opened it to find nothing inside but a pinch of tobacco at the bottom. A sort of rage overcame him. He flung the empty cigarette pack onto the ground like a madman and stomped on it, half yelling, half muttering. He wasn’t angry that he was out of cigarettes. He was sure he would find a way into the store and the signs of various cigarette brands with their prices listed assured him the store carried his favorite and many others. James went around to the back of the car and opened the trunk. He knew his tools were buried inside, somewhere. He pulled out the gas can and set it on the blacktop. Then he started digging through the layers of clothes and papers that had accumulated over the years.
The cool feel of steel shocked the tips of his fingers as he dug several layers deep into the mess. Pushing his hand in with more confidence, he gripped his fingers around the tool and felt its handle’s grainy texture. Ratchet… good enough, he thought. It took some tugging and twisting, but he pulled the ratchet free. Closing the trunk, he took a deep breath, looking at the doors and windows of the store. He put the ratchet in his back pocket and race- walked to the automatic-sliding front doors. Obviously locked, they stood completely still as James approached. He pressed up against the glass and raised up on his toes, looking down so he could try and make out the workings of the lock. It was a small gray dead bolt that matched its surrounding doors. If he busted the glass close enough and made a big enough hole, he might be able to reach in and unlock it. He took a step back, reached around his side, and pulled out the ratchet. He lifted it above his head and aimed for a spot just above the corner of the glass, next to the dead bolt. He took a breath, counted to three in his head, and swung down with all his strength. The ratchet slammed into the glass with a hollow clang, jolting and vibrating his arm while utterly failing to even scratch the glass. He let out a loud yelp from the pain.
“All right, you son of a bitch. You got that one, but this next one is all mine.” He swung the ratchet again, harder this time, and the window bit back equally hard. The glass reflected the furious look on James’s face in untarnished clarity. He bellowed a battle cry, and started slamming the ratchet into the glass over and over, letting it hit wherever it happened to land. The thick glass seemed impenetrable. But James was in a fury now, beating into the glass harder the more it mocked him with its flawless surface. His screaming had risen to a fevered pitch when the blast of a rifle abruptly interrupted him.
5
James dropped the ratchet and put his hands in the air as the metal tool jittered against the concrete. He slowly turned around, his knees buckling as he went. A large man in worn overalls stood at the far end of the parking lot. In his hands, he clutched a shotgun at an angle, pointing towards the sky. Even at that distance, James could see the smoke floating from the barrel.
“You best get the hell away from that there store, son.” The man’s voice rose in the air and then ricocheted off the wall, behind James. I’m not alone, he thought. He had been longing to find someone for so long, he almost didn’t recognize the man’s intimidating tone.
“I just want some food and water, sir, maybe some cigarettes if it’s not too much to ask. I have to say it’s so nice to see someone else alive.” He could hear his own small voice echo across the lot with a short delay.
The man gave no reply.
James moved forward carefully, being sure to keep his hands up high. The man seemed to stiffen. James froze.
“I’m unarmed. I just want to meet you, sir.”
The man lowered his shotgun in James’s direction.
“You’ll stay right there if you know what’s good for ya.”
James closed his eyes and swallowed. He was about to open them when he heard movement from behind him. Before he could turn to see what it was, two men grabbed him. One was dressed in brown overalls, his dark hair greased back, the other wore a white polo and khaki shorts, the sun gleaming off his bald head. The man with the shotgun was jogging toward them. His shotgun, saddled behind him, shook with the muscular motion of his body as he ran. James could feel the cold, sharp, stinging pressure of handcuffs being slapped onto his wrists.
“We’re not taking any chances, mister. You understand, right?” a young voice asked behind James. Then he
