The Last Nukyi: Fear Cosmic Annihilation

by Paul Bagnell

  *****

  Later at Galleon’s they were enjoying their lunch when Tom thought he heard a cry for help. “Celia, did you hear that?”

  “Did I hear what?” she said annoyed and directed her attention about the restaurant.

  “I think it was a lady’s voice.”

  “Yeah I did,” she replied, and silently directed her eyes across the busy floor, “that plump-butt accounting snob over there cursed me last week while I was trying to exit the parking garage. I think she’s talking about me right now.”

  “No, I don’t mean that,” he said, fully irritated.

  “What then?” she replied while picking through her salad, as if uninterested.

  “I’m certain it sounded like a woman crying for help.”

  “That’s strange; I didn’t hear anything like that. Maybe it’s all in your head, and you’re just hearing things,” McBridle replied sarcastically and continued with her lunch.

  “Maybe so; lately I’ve been hearing a lot of wishy-washy things, and they’re making me a bit crazy.” He momentarily rested his fatigued eyes. The mind-crash returned his sight frequency to a previous vision. There he saw two men; one was that fancy-dressed bald guy. The other man wore a roly-poly gut and a rotten, dishonest smile. He forcefully held the woman while the bald guy whacked the barrel lid over her pretty head multiple times and rendered her defenceless and unconscious. The woman sank into the drum like a charmed cobra; then baldy sealed the rim. They boarded a small craft and drove out into the bay and offloaded the sealed cargo to its watery grave.

  Tom was an obedient servant to the powers of the mind-crash. They were growing more frequent, realistic, and horrifyingly demanding.

  “Tom, what’s wrong with you?” McBridle asked and placed her fork by her plate. “You’re acting very strange today.”

  He looked straight at her. “I want to get back to work. It’s getting late, and I don’t want to be counting pages all night.” He wiped his saucy mouth with the cloth napkin; then tossed it on the empty plate. “I need to stretch my legs,” and rose to leave.