The Apocolypese

• Alexander Smith, Grade 12
• Short Story
• 2013

Hot, dry air seeped in through the slightly opened window. Grey light shimmered as it broke through the trees, engulfing the man in his bed. The half made bed covered the man’s lower body his arm out stretched as if reaching for the book. An apocalypse novel had sparked the man’s interest. Like many of its kind, it had only taken a night to complete. He rolled over, knocking the book to the floor, the alarm stirring his sleep. He laid there, eyes staring at the empty ceiling, nine-thirty AM, his clock suggestion that he would be late. Again. Canned beans and peaches sounded like a good breakfast, then again, they always did after an apocalypse. The man clothed his bare body and forced himself into the tiny kitchen. Upon further review, re-heated pizza held a more appealing guise. The open fridge agreed, other than a plate of cold pizza there was nothing.

A creak could be heard from a block over as the front door opened unenthusiastically. The man emerged from his cell, his feat like some undead fiend, struggled to push his body forwards. Left. Right. Left. Right. Left. Right. One foot dragged after the other. The long, gloomy street presented more then fifty shades of grey each slightly more dull than those before it. Children kicked a ball on a sliver of lawn between towers. The man took no notice, in the apocalypse they would be the first to go. No point in knowing the dead. The bus pulled along side him the doors flung wide open, the most enthusiastic thing he would see all day. The man wasn’t particularly large, but neither was the bus. Funding for public transport had been cut. Again. The bus tilted heavily on its suspension as the man trod on the landing step. Tsshhh. A loud hiss escaped from somewhere deep in the engine and the bus lurched forward.


***


Children had seen the man retrieving the bright blue tarpaulin from the garage. This meant it was time for some fun. The boy stepped away from the bathroom window grabbing the soap bottle from the sink. Opening the front door gave way to an explosion of light and hot air.
“No, not that one! The one from the kitchen in the green bottle.” The man yelled. With a grin the boy dropped the small bottle on the cabinet and ran inside , he located and retrieved the larger, green bottle. Running outside meant another explosion of hot air and blinding light. Heaps of children had appeared now, helping the man set up the tarp on the slope leading to the pool. A front yard pool always made for a tonne of fun here.
“Papa!” The boy threw the bottle to the father who caught it with a single hand! A hero that man was. Throwing and catching like a pro cricket player, he could even jump high enough to grab the branches in the tree. The man sprayed the detergent over the tarp, complimenting the water with bubbles and suds. Some of the neighbouring children, getting sprayed in the process screamed and giggled.
“You first!”
“Yeah, c’mon!”
“Do a flip!”
“Bet ya can’t make it all the way to the pool!”
The other children chanted and cheered to the boy. He lined up, but couldn’t think of what to do.
“You first, papa.”
“Alright. I mean. Yes sir!” He saluted as if to a drill sergeant. The man lined up, bent like an Olympic runner. BANG! As fast as lighting he sprinted towards the tarp, launching himself into the air. He landed on his back, propping his head underneath his arms as if relaxing on a bed. He slid all the way into the pool, a gleaming smile on his face. The children erupted into cheers, some silent in awe. They awaited their hero’s return to the surface. But he never came.


***


The man stepped off into the grey jungle, the bus escaping, leaving the man for dead. Left. Right. Left. The man walked to his fate. Again. The job that he was required to fulfil caused his entrapment. There was no escape. All around him people refused to help, if anything they would like to chew him up too. For now they didn’t, but who knew? The philosophy of others would diminish in time. The people walking down the street, eyes glued to their devices would never notice the glaucoma until it was too late. His papa had realised it but even he was gone, along with the fun and the world.