out of my way,” said Max in a low and calm voice, but one that meant business.

“You walk out that door, Max, and you’re out a job,” hissed Big Tom. He tried to stand up tall, puffing up his chest. But Max wasn’t the least bit intimidated.

“Don’t you get it?” said Max. “This isn’t just a power outage. Don’t you see that everything’s off? Check your cell phone. This is the end of the world we’ve been living in.”

“You’re crazy,” said Big Tom. But he sounded scared. “I’m telling you, Max. Walk out that door now, and that’s the last straw. You’ve spent too many days staring out the window. One more demerit on your record and you’re done. And forget about a recommendation.”

Max just shook his head in disbelief. He knew people would be slow to catch on, but actually confronting the reality of it was… astounding.

“Out of my way now,” said Max.

Big Tom bowed his head slightly, looking at the ground before stepping aside.

Max was in good physical condition, and Tom could sense that he wasn’t a match for Max, not that he’d ever dream of fighting him. Fighting wasn’t part of the modern cultured world, especially not in an office environment. Instead of thinking about physical capabilities, Big Tom’s managerial head was likely instead filled with ideas about potential lawsuits and demerits of his own that he’d have to deal with, should he find himself in a physical altercation.

Max walked out of the office. He knew it would be the last time.

The door slammed behind him, louder than anything he’d heard in the intense silence surrounding him.

The lights were off in the staircase.

He took a single cautious step past the threshold and paused. When he closed his eyes, he couldn’t tell the difference. That was how dark it was.

There, in the silent darkness of the stairwell, the reality suddenly struck him. His heart started pounding in his chest. The anxiety hit him like a tidal wave. His pulse skyrocketed and his skin felt cold and clammy.

He’d had it together back in the office. He’d been vaguely planning this for years, or at least considering the possibility. He had some gear at home, and he had a plan, unlike a lot of other people. He had enough food for over a month.

But suddenly, none of it felt like it would be enough.

And he was all alone, the silent, dark staircase reinforcing this thought.

Was he really better off than anyone else, or would he become trapped like the rest of them, left to die a slow death of hunger, or perhaps something worse? After all, he still had no idea what had happened.

Max tried to reach into his pocket for his LED flashlight, hoping against hope that it hadn’t been affected by the EMP. But his hand was trembling too much, and he couldn’t even slide it into the pocket of his jeans.

Shit. That was all he could think: shit. His mind was stuck in a loop of panic.

Continue reading by getting your copy of Westfield’s Getting out by Clicking here!

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