End of the World

by D Thomas Jewett

  A man came for Josh. Damn, what are they going to do to us, he thought. The man lifted him up and escorted him to the front. And then a woman tried to do the same with Mikaela; but Mikaela was strong – and she resisted – until finally a second woman joined in and overpowered her.

  The two stood in front of the mob, their hands bound behind their backs. Josh glanced over at Mikaela, but Mikaela was focused only on the speaker – and she was angry.

  “You!” She spat at the man.

  The man smiled with self assurance. “You know me?”

  “Go fuck yourself!” Mikaela spat.

  The speaker walked over to her. “My name is Allystair. What's yours?”

  “Fuck you!” Mikaela spat again.

  Allystair nodded to her and then turned to the mob. “Alright, mate!” Allystair bellowed. “This one’s first,” he pointed to Mikaela.

  “Who recognizes 'er?” He bellowed to the mob.

  “You mate?” He asked pointing to a member of the mob. “Or you?” He asked pointing to a different member. And then he shouted, “anyone recognize 'er?”

  Allystair waited for a response. But with none offered, he continued. “I know who this is,” he bellowed. “I've seen 'er. I've seen 'er riding a limo to the G-20!” Allystair paused to let his words sink in.

  “This 'ere is a banker. And not just any banker. No sir! She's an executive! She's a rich banker!” Allystair paused in his rant, scanning the mob for any feedback.

  Allystair continued. “She's a wily one, this woman. She's stolen our 'omes, she 'as! Alright?”

  “She's counterfeited our currency, she 'as. She's helped to create this depression – with 'er greed, she 'as.” Allystair paused and then continued. “And she 'as helped to starve the people of London and the people of England, she 'as!”

  The mob booed as they absorbed Allystair's accusations.

  “Alright! What say you? What should we do with 'er?” Allystair bellowed.

  From the mob, a single voice began to chant. “Hang 'er. Hang 'er ...”

  And then more voices joined in, “Hang 'er, Hang 'er ...” The chant continued, growing louder and louder, until Allystair held up his hands.

  “Hang 'er?” he bellowed.

  The mob cheered.

  Josh looked over at Mikaela. She was pale, she was shaking, she was shivering. There was a warm wetness around her feet, with steam rising off the pavement.

  Someone from the mob produced a rope. Then, someone else made a noose. And then a third faceless ‘someone’ put it over Mikaela’s neck. She struggled and squirmed, but to no avail. She yelled, but the mob was loud and nobody heard her.

  Allystair threw the end of the rope over a beam, one of many protruding from the front of the shop. He then handed the rope to two burly men – they pulled the rope taut, and Mikaela's neck seemed to stretch another inch or two. Her eyes were huge.

  Allystair motioned to the mob for silence and then looked at Mikaela. “Do you 'ave any last words?”

  Mikaela said something, but her voice was too soft to carry.

  Allystair put his ear close to her. “I can't hear ya.”

  “M-m-mercy,” she said, louder this time.

  “Mercy?” Allystair looked at her. And then he turned and bellowed to the mob. “She asks for mercy!”

  The mob responded with boos and catcalls.

  “Hang 'er?” Allystair shouted again.

  The mob cheered.

  Allystair turned and signaled two burly men to begin pulling the rope, hoisting her off the ground.

  Josh turned his head. God bless her, and God help me, he prayed.

  Josh heard the mob cheer, and a glance told him that Mikaela was still hanging, and now dead.

  Allystair then walked over and stood in front of Josh. He smiled, the kind of smile that knows death. “Now what to do with you.”

  He paused. “Let's make this easy.” And with those words, Josh felt his head explode, and everything went black ...

  Ultimatum – T minus 20 Hours

  Daybreak arrived. Brandy peered out the window and scanned the field. The Feds were still there; and their position had not changed. Damn I’m tired! And hungry, she thought. I’ll bet the others are too.

  Why don't y'all just go home! She thought with a snicker.

  Bill brought up some coffee and some crackers with peanut butter. “Here, this will keep you going for a while; and there's plenty more where that came from.”

  She turned and took the food. Sitting up against the wall next to the window, she began to feel refreshed as she sipped on the hot coffee and took a bite of the crackers. “Wow! I didn't know how hungry I was!”

  Bill's face showed the tension they all felt. “This is hard, damn it. They're wearing us down.” Then he motioned to the back of the house. “I just brought some of this to Murray. His face is really white – scared. I don't know if we can count on him when the time comes.”

  Brandy took a sip of coffee and paused. “Yeah, I know. I watched him. I don't think he's ever done much shooting.”

  “But it’s more than that, Brandy. When you’re in a situation like this, you’ve got to be willing to kill!”

  Just then, they heard the now familiar megaphone tapping. And then the voice came through the megaphone like a truck roaring through a funeral home. “Attention! If you do not turn over your gold and silver, we will come and take it!” They tapped on the megaphone again. “Attention! If you do not turn over your gold and silver, we will come and take it!”

  There was a pause. And then the megaphone bellowed. “Attention! Attention – inside the house!” They paused again. “You now have twenty hours to comply. Attention! Attention – inside the house! You now have twenty – that's twenty hours to comply!”

  “Twenty hours,” Bill thought out loud. And then he said, “Since we have twenty hours, maybe we should go back to our standard rotation. That way, we can all get some sleep.”

  “I agree,” Brandy chimed in. “We're liable to need some rest before we get to zero hour.” She paused, and then continued. “Why don't y'all take the first sleep period?”

  She could see the fatigue on Bill's face. “Okay,” he said.

  * * * * *

  The Waiter moved slowly down the hill, deliberately through the thick forest, pushing branches out of his way. He stopped momentarily and checked his position with the GPS device; and then he checked his wristwatch, mentally calculating the time it would take to reach his destination. He pressed onward, following the path of other critters while moving branches out of his way with a deft touch. He reflected on the weather and the terrain. I’m sure glad there’s no snow, he thought.

  He continued his trek until he finally arrived at his perch. Damn, this is a lot of gear, he swore. I'm not so used to it anymore! And truth be known, he was carrying a lot – a sleeping bag, tent, enough food for a week, and a scoped rifle. He paused again and checked his GPS and compass; and then began moving off to his left. He soon reached his perch, just inside the tree line. From here, he withdrew further into the trees and dropped his gear. Then he moved back up to his perch and began scanning the cabin and grounds below.

  Well, I made it in plenty of time. So, will they show? Or not? For a time, he peered through his binoculars at the clearing below. Finally, he shook his head. Blimey! They're supposed to arrive tomorrow. So I might as well go setup the camp. If they come in earlier, I'll hear 'em. He moved back into the trees, picked up his gear, and continued on up the hill for some two hundred meters.

  The Waiter dropped his gear off behind some brush and checked his GPS device, but the canopy was too dense and his GPS device registered only two satellites. He moved out from under the canopy and again checked his GPS. He smiled when he looked at the reading, and he recorded the coordinates for later reference.

  How would they defend against an incursion? Helicopters? Foot soldiers? Electronics? Or maybe nothing? After all – no one knows they'll be here! He paused in thought fo
r a moment. Foot soldiers, he decided. Probably mercenaries with radios and pistols. The Waiter moved back down the hill. But as he hiked, he did a curious thing – he tracked well away from the perch. That way, he reflected, it will be much less obvious that anyone else has been here.

  He soon approached the edge of the tree line. He slowed his pace and crouched. Coming up to the edge of the trees, he now had a mostly unobstructed view of the cabin below. No dinner tonight, he thought as he munched on a protein bar. He watched until the sun finally moved to the far west. And then he withdrew to his camp.

  He erected his tent, unfolded his sleeping bag, and sacked out for the night. He drifted off quickly ...

  “... you're fired, you bloody ass wipe!” The Waiter looked up at a man's surreal face. The man was eye-to-eye and in-your-face – that close. His features were distorted – warped – as though he were looking through a fun-house mirror. “We just don't ‘ave any work for you anymore,” the face sneered ...”

  The Waiter huddled in his sleeping bag; sweating and mumbling. He spent part of the night rolling in his sleep.

  Ultimatum – T minus 16 Hours

  The day wore on, and Brandy noticed their friends didn’t congregate. They must have blocked off the property so they couldn't come in, she mused. Every four hours, the megaphone bellowed its message, providing a countdown to what Bill blithely called 'blastoff'.

  Brandy laughed when she heard him say it. “Y'all gonna start a black comedy club?” she joked. “What did Murray say when you told him?”

  Bill laughed as he said, “Murray? Hell, he turned white. Actually – whiter than he's been.”

  “Oh shit,” Brandy snickered. “We should probably keep this serious, for his sake if no other.”

  Bill chuckled.

  Suddenly, the window glass shattered and a shot echoed across the field, sending a bullet whizzing just above Brandy’s head! They ducked just as a hail of bullets rained through the windows, breaking still more glass and ricocheting off the stone fireplace, embedding in the walls.

  Bill rolled over on his back and began shooting at an upward diagonal through the window – not so much to hit anyone, but to let the Feds know they were armed and ready.

  The bullets rained another 10 seconds, and then the shooting ceased.

  They soon heard the sound of tapping on a megaphone. “You in there. Turn over your gold and you will go free.” There was silence for a moment, and then they heard still more tapping on the megaphone. “Again. Turn over your gold and you will go free!”

  “Aw shit,” Brandy exclaimed as she crawled out of the field of vision and sat up. She pulled the stock of the rifle into her shoulder and fired several rounds through the window. Bang! Bang!

  She looked at Bill. “Those assholes!” And then she fired several more rounds.

  She stopped shooting when she heard gunfire from the rear of the house. Bill's voice was low pitched as he raised himself from his crouch. “I'll go back and see how Murray is making out.”

  “Okay.”

  * * * * *

  It was before daybreak when the Waiter opened his eyes. He remained still, allowing his eyes to roam inside the dark tent. But there was nothing to see.

  And then he wondered what could possibly have woken him. He lay still, listening; and yet he heard nothing. He grabbed the night vision goggles beside him and put them on. His vision immediately became clear. He checked his wristwatch – 4:00 am.

  He left the tent and made his way quietly, carefully down to the tree line. He could hear a low hum coming from the other side of the cabin. Peering through his binoculars, he scanned the area around the cabin – nothing was moving. But the hum persisted, and it was getting louder. And louder.

  And then a car emerged from a forested road and into the clearing – it quickly pulled into a car port near the cabin. The Waiter looked down on the scene as two men came out from under the car port, making their way to the cabin.

  The Waiter remained hidden in the trees, continuing to watch – and wait.

  * * *

  Sometime after daybreak, the Waiter spied the two men as they came out of the cabin. They must be security, he thought. One of the men stood on the porch while the other moved out into the clearing and headed up into the forest – the man’s direction would take him to the tree line, a few hundred yards away from the Waiter’s position.

  The man soon reached the tree line and began walking the tree line perimeter – toward the Waiter. It’s a pretty long distance, the Waiter mused. But I best get under cover anyways. He moved silently into the brush.

  He was hidden by the time the security man approached, crouching in the brush and forest with his silenced pistol held in the ready. I don't think he'll detect me; but if he does, I'll pop the SOB – no one will hear me! The Waiter became silent like a mouse, unmoving, as the security man approached. And then the man stopped.

  The man was carrying a radio – it was emitting static. Yet the Waiter thought he could make out someone talking above the static, and so he watched and listened. And then the security man raised the radio to his mouth and spoke in a thick British accent. “Roger. From everything I can see, it's all clear. Coming in.”

  The Waiter could hear the man’s footsteps recede. He stole a peek and watched as the man hiked toward the cabin.

  The Waiter remained hidden, still watching.

  * * * * *

  Knock, knock! Sheryl heard knocking at the front door. “Who's there?” she shouted.

  A voice emanated from the other side of the door and announced, “Power Company.” She went to the door and looked through the peep hole, seeing two men wearing uniforms.

  She grasped the doorknob just as Mark walked into the hallway. “Who is it?”

  “Power Company,” Sheryl replied.

  “No!” Mark shouted. “Don't let them in!”

  At just that moment, the door crashed open and two men came through. One of them pumped two quick rounds into Sheryl, and then the men focused their guns on Mark.

  But Mark had already retreated to the bedroom even before Sheryl hit the floor. The men didn’t follow.

  Mark pulled his gun out of the drawer and chambered a round. 9MM hollow points – damn, I wish my hands would quit shaking!

  From inside the bedroom, Mark had a view out to the kitchen and living room. He moved within the bedroom, following an arc until he could see the living room through the bedroom entrance. He aimed the pistol toward the entrance, holding it with both hands and resting his grip across a corner of the bed. He waited – waited for them to come into his line of sight.

  He listened as they ransacked the apartment. “Hey Jake,” he heard one of them say. “Come lookee here!”

  Suddenly, a man appeared in Mark’s sights. He didn't know which one, and he didn't care. He squeezed the trigger – bang! – not even feeling the pistol’s recoil as the man dropped with a thud.

  Mark heard only silence. He waited. Waited to see what the other man would do.

  “Hello?” The man shouted.

  Mark remained silent.

  “Hello? The man’s voice quivered as he shouted. “I'm coming out. I'm coming out with my hands up.”

  “Come ahead,” Mark shouted back.

  Mark peered down the barrel of his pistol, waiting for a glimpse of the man.

  The man slowly edged into view, first an arm waving. “I’m coming out,” he shouted yet again.

  “Okay,” Mark shouted back.

  And then his shoulder came into view. “Don’t shoot,” he shouted.

  “Just keep your hands up and let me see ya,” Mark shouted.

  The man stepped forward, now framed in Mark’s sights. “Don’t shoot,” he pleaded.

  I guess he thinks I should give him mercy, he thought. Fuck 'em! Mark squeezed the trigger. Bang! The man dropped to the floor.

  Ultimatum – T minus 8 Hours

  At 7:00 pm, the megaphone bellowed its expected announcement, 'eight hours to compl
y'. And with that pronouncement, the tension inside the house increased, palpably – despite their attempts to make light of the situation.

  Brandy could sense Murray's fear, as though it gushed like sweat from the pores of his body. But Bill, she reflected with a smile. He seems unflappable, steady. The more tense the situation, the more steady he becomes! Even his jokes are funnier.

  Time wore on ...

  Just like last night, the Feds chose not to shine the floodlights, and thus there was no illumination. Hmmm. This is one of our really dark nights, Brandy reflected. Living out here in the forest, I've seen many of these; but I've never appreciated them before because I've always had some means of lighting – at least, before now! But this is dark. No moon, no stars – hell, I can't even see my hand in front of my eyes. It’s a good thing we have our night vision!

  Time and darkness pressed ever so intensely on the three. Are they gonna shoot again? Will they come in with guns blazing?

  At 11:00 pm, the megaphone bellowed its customary 'four hours to comply' message.

  * * * * *

  The Waiter scanned the grounds and cabin, noting the Swiss flag that was waving from the pole at the southeast corner of the cabin. The flag snapped in the brisk wind, and he used it to determine the direction of the wind. From the south, he thought.

  The Waiter heard the sound of an approaching helicopter. He looked up and spotted it off to the north; and he watched it draw closer. He glanced at the flag and noted that the helicopter was descending as it approached – into the wind. It slowed, hovering above the helicopter pad, and then it began to descend. The helicopter floated downward, slowly, until its metal runners settled onto the ground. The engine shut down and the rotors slowed to a stop.

  The Waiter peered through his binoculars. He watched a security man approach the aircraft. He opened the door and two people disembarked – an older rather plump man, and a lean and fit younger man. The two strode toward the cabin and disappeared inside.