End of the World

by D Thomas Jewett

  What's the time? ... let's see. Where's that bloody clock? Damn, where's the lights? I can't see anything.

  Josh awoke to darkness. No, it wasn't just dark. It was black – pitch black. Not even the street lights from the windows were illuminated. Candles, he thought. I need to go get those candles. Now where did I keep them?

  Aw, to hell with it. They'll have the electric back on in the morning.

  Josh felt his head hit the pillow.

  * * *

  “Josh. The electricity is off.”

  Josh squinted, opening his eyes to a throbbing headache. Laying on his side, he moved his eyes around, scanning his field of vision – seeing the window, the bench. If I don't move my head, maybe this bloody headache won't hurt so much, he thought.

  “Josh. The electricity is off.”

  Who's that? He wondered. He turned and lifted his head to see Mikaela standing at the foot of the bed.

  “The bloody electricity is off,” she said yet again.

  “I know,” he said putting his hand up to his head. “I woke up when it was dark. Gawd, it was really dark!”

  “I tried calling the electric company, but the telephone is dead. I tried my cell phone; it's dead too.”

  Josh sat up and scratched his head. “Blimey. I guess we'll just have to make the best of it. Won't we?”

  “Coffee,” said Mikaela. “How about coffee?”

  Josh got up and walked out to the kitchen. He began rummaging around the cupboards. “I think. Hmmm ... I think there was an old coffee pot out here. You know, the kind that you just percolate over a fire?” He was on his knees, rummaging through some pans into the back shelf of a cupboard. “Ah ha! Here it is!”

  He stood up, holding an older-style coffee maker as though it were a trophy.

  “Yay,” Mikaela clapped her hands. “Now. Do we have water? Do we have coffee?

  “Well, we have coffee in the refrigerator. Let's check the water.”

  They did indeed have water; and in no time they had a pot of coffee brewing on the gas stove top.

  “What are we going to eat?” Mikaela ruminated. “Do you have anything?”

  He grinned at her. “I've got yesterday's donuts.”

  “Oh shit. Is that all you've got?”

  “Well, no. I've got lots of stuff we can cook – eggs, ham.”

  “You need a maid,” she declared.

  “I had one. But there was so little work that she quit.” He paused and then continued. “Do you wanna cook?”

  “Hell no,” she said with a sharp tone. “Just who do you think I am?”

  Josh shrugged, and then he said, “So, how about we go out to eat?”

  “Okay. I'll go for that. I just need to clean up.”

  “Me too.”

  * * *

  Josh and Mikaela stepped out of the building under a high overcast sky. Traffic was thin, even for this time on a Saturday morning.

  “I know a great place,” Josh said. “And it's close.”

  “Lead on,” she replied.

  They walked along the sidewalk, chattering small talk back and forth. There was a crispness in the air, and Josh could see his breath even as he felt the chill penetrating his coat. They continued walking.

  But Josh began to feel uneasy. He noticed a group of young men standing around across the street. They had a swagger about them – like a gang that knew they were in charge. And further up the street, he saw three men exit an electronics store carrying several boxes. I didn't know that Sanders Electronics opened this early, Josh thought. They continued their walk.

  Mikaela was walking faster. Is she sensing something? She hasn't said a word, he thought. They stepped up their pace.

  They soon reached the restaurant and walked up to the door. Josh pulled on the door handle, but the door wouldn't budge. He peered through the glass, noting the lights were out. He turned to Mikaela. “Shit,” he said as he looked at Mikaela, “It looks like their electricity is out too.”

  “Bloody bastards,” she spat.

  “Blimey,” Josh continued, “I think we need to return to the condo and sack out until the electricity is back on. What do you think?”

  Mikaela looked at him, pleading. “Isn't there something we can do?”

  “Do what?” Josh replied. “We have no telephone, no electricity, no transportation. So we can't even contact the chauffeur to get a ride.”

  “When did you tell him to pick us up?”

  “I told him we'd call,” Josh replied.

  “Shit,” Mikaela spat. “Well, let's go back.”

  They began walking back to the condo. Faster, this time.

  They were both startled to hear glass breaking behind them. They turned just in time to see several hoodlums storm through a display window into the store.

  Josh was aghast. “Blimey! What’s going on?”

  “I don't know, but we better keep moving,” Mikaela's voice cracked.

  They walked. Fast, then faster still. Josh glanced back, noticing several hoodlums had fallen into step behind them. The young punks began to spout cat calls, and then the cat calls became louder. They were getting even louder when they reached the condo building. Josh pulled on the door handle. It's open. Oh God, thank you! Josh thought. They stepped into the lobby; the hoodlums remained outside.

  Josh and Mikaela stopped and looked at each other. “What's happening?” Mikaela asked.

  “I don't know,” Josh replied. “We never get this kind of problem here.” And then he paused, but there was that barricade on the City back in 2009, he thought.

  “What are you thinking?” Mikaela asked.

  “Oh, nothing,” Josh said over his shoulder as he headed toward the stairs. “Let's make some breakfast.”

  They entered the condo. Both sat down at the kitchen table. “How're you doing?” Josh asked.

  “Not well,” she replied. Josh could see her hands shake.

  “Do – do you have a cigarette?” She asked.

  “I think I've got some stuffed away in the closet. I'll go get 'em.”

  Josh walked into the bedroom and soon returned with a carton of cigarettes.

  “Here.” He handed her the box. “And here's some matches.” He watched with some interest as her shaking hands pulled a cigarette out and placed it between her lips. She lit a match; her shaking hand attempting to light the cigarette. Finally, she was able to light it by holding the match and cigarette in separate hands. “I didn't know that you smoke.”

  Mikaela sucked on the cigarette, inhaling deep into her lungs. “I do now,” her voice quivered. She looked at the cigarette and took another draw.

  “Well,” she continued, “actually, I used to smoke, but I quit.”

  The shaking in her hands diminished.

  * * * * *

  And in a suburb of Washington D.C. ...

  Mark rummaged through the pantry and the refrigerator. “We're getting low on food. How about we go shopping?”

  Sheryl was at the kitchen table, munching on some cereal. “Sure. What time do you want to go?”

  “Oh, maybe in a few hours. I've got some paperwork to catch up on first.”

  “Okay,” Sheryl replied. “Hey, maybe we can stop for lunch too?”

  “Yeah. I like that,” Mark replied. “How's Benjamin's? I hear they’ve got great lunch.”

  “Awesome!”

  * * *

  They pulled out of the parking lot and meandered along residential side streets on their way to Benjamin’s. They soon emerged onto a main thoroughfare and blended into the Saturday morning congestion.

  On a normal Saturday, Benjamin’s was a short drive, situated as it was in the retail and restaurant section of town. But this was not the normal Saturday congestion. The cars’ horns were raucous, noisy. And the drivers were angry, more aggressive – there were several instances where they leaned into their horns, flashed their middle fingers, and shouted out the car windows.

  Mark drew the gun from his hip and placed i
t on the center console. He covered it with a newspaper.

  Sheryl eyed him as he did this. “What are you doing with that?”

  He glanced over at her and smiled. “Making sure we have some protection, just in case.”

  “Do you think you'll need to use it?”

  “Let's hope not.”

  They were driving past strip shopping centers and gasoline stations. “Damn,” Sheryl gasped. “Gasoline is up to $75 per gallon.”

  “Wow! The price keeps going up. We'd better get some.”

  Mark pulled into the next station, surprised that no cars were using the station. And then he discovered the reason: there was a sign posted on the pump – in fact, on every pump – with the legend Out of Service. Damn, what the hell is going on, he thought. He pulled out of the station and merged with the traffic, searching for another gasoline station.

  They pulled into the next station and got in line. Mark watched as the man ahead of him pumped gasoline into his car. And then the man stopped filling his tank and began filling a gasoline can. He glanced up at the meter and down at the can, and then again. The man finally switched the pump off and loaded the can into the back of his SUV. He drove off.

  Mark pulled up, inserted his credit card, and began filling his tank; noting that the speed of the flow was much slower than normal. Hmmm ... they must be running low on fuel.

  He finished filling the tank and pulled his receipt from the pump. And in a matter of seconds they again merged into the traffic.

  Soon, they pulled into Benjamin's parking lot. Sheryl gasped. “Damn! Look at the crowd around the front entrance. Why!”

  “I don't know,” Mark replied. “Let’s take a look.”

  He stuffed the gun in his waist band and zipped his jacket. They got out of the car and walked, slowly – toward the entrance.

  As they approached, the situation became clear. A throng of people were gathered at the front entrance, and a large determined waitress was shouting “... there's no space in here for at least an hour!” And yet there were 'leaders' at the head of the crowd shouting as they tried pushing past her. But to her credit, she was holding the throng at bay!

  Mark and Sheryl stopped and looked at each other. Mark said, “instead of having lunch, how about we go grocery shopping?”

  “Bingo!” Sheryl replied.

  * * *

  They parked in the supermarket parking lot and approached the entrance. “Well,” Sheryl observed, “at least this is not the same situation as Benjamin's.”

  No – it's worse, Mark thought, as he watched the myriad of people walking in and out of the store. He glanced over at the drive-up loading lane, seeing a long line of people waiting to have their purchases loaded.

  They entered the store. Sheryl grabbed a cart and they began their trek up and down the aisles, following the line of other shoppers and other carts. The first aisle was produce; and Sheryl gasped when they entered. “There's nothing here!”

  Mark just whistled but otherwise said nothing.

  They moved over to the next aisle – canned vegetables. Mark's jaw dropped as he looked down the aisle. “Damn! There's hardly anything on the shelves!” He watched as people grabbed cans off the shelves and dumped them into carts. He followed suit.

  Mark glanced at the prices – $6 for a can of green beans – but he didn't care, he grabbed everything within reach. “C'mon, Sheryl. Load up.”

  Sheryl stood immobile, staring down the aisle. But then she shook her head and began grabbing cans from the shelves. The aisle was stripped by the time they left it.

  They entered the next aisle just as a fight broke out. Two women – a blonde and a brunette – simultaneously grabbed the last remaining bag of flour. With both holding it, they spun around; each trying to shake the other loose. Mark cringed as he watched the two women crash against the shelves, but a throng of onlookers quickly formed and cheered them on.

  The blonde woman shouted, “gimme that, you bitch,” as she attempted to push the brunette into the shelves. But the brunette pulled on the bag even as the blonde pushed, increasing the blonde’s momentum toward the brunette. And then the brunette deftly sidestepped the blonde, causing her to crash into the shelves and knocking her senseless. The blonde lay prone on the floor.

  The cheering stopped as the brunette scooped up the bag and spat on the blonde. She loaded up her cart and left the aisle. The shelves in the aisle were bare!

  Mark wore a frown as he turned to Sheryl. “We need to finish and get out of here.”

  With fear in her eyes, Sheryl nodded.

  They moved on through the supermarket aisles, grabbing whatever morsels of food were still available.

  They finally arrived at the checkout and paid their bill – $3,075.32. Mark put it on his credit card, and they pushed the cart load of bagged groceries out to the car. Damn, just eleven plastic bags full, he thought.

  As they walked through the door, they passed two soldiers carrying M-16 rifles and standing as though at post.

  Mark was too curious not to ask, and so he approached one of the soldiers – a medium built young man with keen eyes and a shaved scalp.

  “Why are you here?”

  The soldier looked at Mark and then to Sheryl. “Sir, the President declared martial law this morning. We're just now deploying throughout the area.”

  “Damn,” Mark shook his head. “Do they think it's going to get that bad?”

  “Sir,” the soldier replied. “No one knows. I suggest you get all your information from the press and from White House dispatches. They will disseminate it through the media.”

  Shit, this is looking to get mighty bad, Mark thought.

  “C'mon, Sheryl. Let's get out of here.”

  They loaded the bags into the car and left.

  * * *

  As they drove back to the apartment, they passed military vehicles on the move. “Holy cow,” Sheryl exclaimed, “look at all the Army trucks!”

  Mark chimed in. “Yeah! This is beginning to look really bad!”

  When they arrived home, they unloaded the groceries and turned on the television.

  A newscaster came on the screen.

  “ ... and the President didn’t say how long martial law would be in effect.” She paused. “Again, this is the dispatch that the federal government has made public. Please listen carefully.”

  She paused and then began reading.

  “The United States Constitution is now suspended and the country is therefore placed under martial law, effective at 10:00 am Eastern Daylight Savings Time. From now on, and until further notice, food and food products are under rationing. Gasoline and oil products are from now on also to be rationed. The military will ensure that the power grid continues to operate.”

  The newscaster looked into the camera and then back to her paper. She continued reading.

  “Curfew is now implemented across the United States. Anyone found outside between the hours of 10:00 pm to 5:00 am will be taken into custody. “

  The newscaster looked into the camera. “This is all the information we have at this time.”

  * * * * *

  Joe came out of the shelter after a night's sleep, a shower, and breakfast. He was intent on another day at work – a day of holding his sign at the freeway overpass. He shuffled along the street toward his goal. Coming upon a gas station, he glanced up at the sign.

  Regular Unleaded $77.4999

  Premium Unleaded $81.4999

  Diesel $99.7999

  What the hell, he thought. He continued shuffling; but now deep in thought. What happened? What is the world coming to!

  Joe soon came upon a news stand. He began reading the main news story.

  DOLLAR COLLAPSE!

  New York, April 20, 2019, (INTERNATIONAL PRESS) Americans went to bed with gasoline at $27 per gallon; and other prices, such as food, at similarly unaffordable levels. But this morning, Americans awakened to a substantially devalued dollar, resulting in higher prices for all importe
d goods and many domestically produced goods.

  The dollar began its collapse late on Friday in U.S. markets. By market close, the dollar had been pummeled like never before seen in history. Although the world markets are closed, world futures markets indicate a continuing dramatic decline in the dollar. Despite the decline of the dollar, the President has announced that all U.S. Markets will open as usual on Monday.

  Commodity prices were sharply higher this morning; with wheat and other grains up as much as five times yesterday’s prices. Gold was up sharply in European markets; opening at $15,245 per ounce. Silver opened at $395.05 per ounce.

  Because of the Dollar's world-wide reserve status, commodity prices were up sharply around the world, and this has caused a vocal and urgent outcry from the world’s leaders. There are important questions regarding the world population’s ability to feed themselves. Speculation is that the ultra high food prices will lead to mass starvation and revolution, especially in third world countries where people are accustomed to living on one dollar’s worth of food per day.

  ·

  ·

  ·

  Joe stopped reading. He turned and continued his shuffle down the sidewalk. At first in a daze, he began to focus his thoughts. He thought back to his conversation with Len.

  It's gonna get worse, Len said. It's gonna get a lot worse. You and Mom need to be making plans.

  What the hell is going on! Shit! What happens when no one can buy gas or food! God – please help us all! And then he paused. What's gonna happen to my family? To Jane? To Len and Brenda? To Leslie? I know I made the decision to live like this – but what happens to them? I love them so much!

  Joe continued shuffling – limping – along the sidewalk like a broken-down old man. He passed an alley, oblivious to the legs protruding from behind a trash can. How will people live in all this poverty? This squalor? With all the people on the street, will they remain civilized? Or will they become predatory? What happens to food – will people starve?