Infinite Doom

by Brian Bowyer

“Jericho won’t suck your dick, but I will.”

  Chuck looked around. The stench of crystal meth and unwashed flesh made him gag. He covered his mouth and his nose with a hand and walked away.

  He found Jericho at the front of the room where a podium had probably once stood. Chuck hadn’t seen him in a while, but he recognized him immediately. Jericho was pulling his pants up. He had just finished having sex with a girl who looked about as wasted as he did. Jericho turned around and fired up a cigarette, looking at Chuck.

  “I’ll be damned,” Jericho said. “The news just broke an hour ago. Did you come to say goodbye before the world ends?”

  Chuck raised the gun. His son was out of his mind and speaking nonsense. He aimed the gun at Jericho’s head. “Where is she?”

  “Who?”

  “Your sister,” Chuck said, “you dumb son of a bitch. Jenny. Where the fuck is she?”

  Jericho shrugged. “Jenny’s downstairs.”

  “Downstairs?”

  “Yes. In the basement.”

  “What the fuck’s she doing in the basement?”

  “Taking care of Trinity.”

  “Trinity?”

  “Yes.”

  “Who the fuck is Trinity?”

  “Some woman’s little girl. I don’t remember the woman’s name. She died a couple of nights ago. And now Jenny’s taking care of Trinity. Not that it matters now, of course. Nothing goddamn matters anymore.”

  “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  Jericho approached his father, smiling. He opened his arms as if to embrace him. “Haven’t you heard, Pops? The whole world’s coming to an end. So you should let your son give you a hug.”

  And then Jericho lunged for the gun. He wrapped a hand around Chuck’s wrist and drove a knee into his stomach.

  Chuck’s arm shot upward and he squeezed the trigger reflexively, sending a bullet into the ceiling. The knee to his stomach had stunned him, but he didn’t release his grip on the knife in his other hand. He brought the hunting knife up and rammed the blade deep into Jericho’s throat. Jericho didn’t have time to scream, but he did make a few gurgling sounds as his hands went up to the knife’s handle.

  Chuck yanked the blade out. A thick gout of blood erupted and splashed on the floor beneath them. Then Jericho hit the floor and died in a spreading pool of blood.

  “Holy shit!” Chuck heard someone yell. “Motherfucker just killed Jericho!”

  Chuck—still holding the gun and the hunting knife—turned around and braced himself for an onslaught of vengeful meth-heads, but none came. He looked at the nearest one and said: “Which way to the basement?”

  The wretched man pointed at a door to Chuck’s left.

  Chuck went to the door and opened it. A stairway descended into darkness. Smoke rose from below, and with it came the burning-plastic stench of crystal meth. He saw firelight flickering from beyond the bottom of the stairway.

  Chuck glanced back and saw that none of the meth-heads were even looking at him. Then he went downstairs into the church’s basement.

  He found Jenny and a little girl sitting on the concrete floor of a small room illuminated by candles burning in coffee cans.

  Jenny looked about the same as she did the last time he had seen her: slightly on the skinny side, but otherwise still attractive. She was a twenty-year-old woman who—despite her addiction—had thus far managed to avoid the outward physical ravages of crystal meth. She had a needle in her arm and recognized him immediately. She smiled, and Chuck was pleased to see that she still had all of her teeth. “Hi Dad,” she said. “How did you find me?”

  “Ginger,” he said. “She told me you left the club with your brother the other night.”

  Jenny nodded and pressed the plunger, injecting herself with liquid meth.

  Chuck looked down at the little girl beside her. She appeared to be about eight or nine years old. She was filthy and her clothes were ragged. Her face was covered with scabs. She was so thin she reminded him of one of the kids in those old photos of the starving Ethiopian children, except she was white. She was smoking ice by holding a lighter against a lightbulb converted to a meth pipe.

  “Are you Trinity?” Chuck said.

  She looked up at him. Chuck could see her clearly in the candlelight. She had blue, haunted eyes with dark sunken rings all the way around them. She didn’t say anything. She just stared at him and kept smoking ice out of the lightbulb.

  “Yes,” Jenny said. “This is Trinity. Her mother died a few nights ago.”

  Chuck nodded. “I know. Your brother told me.”

  Jenny pulled the needle out of her arm and lit a cigarette. “You talked to Jericho?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is he still upstairs? He should have been back down here already.”

  Chuck shook his head. “Jericho’s not coming back.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Jericho’s dead.”

  “Dead?”

  “Yes. He tried to kill me, so I damned near cut his head off.”

  Jenny cocked her head, and it looked to Chuck that it dawned on her for the first time that her father was holding a gun in one hand and a knife in the other. Her eyes appeared to go blank for a second, and then an expression of absolute horror seemed to transform the features of her face. “Oh my god,” she said. “You fucking killed him?”

  Chuck nodded. “I did. And I’m not a goddamn bit sorry about it.”

  Jenny was sitting on a blanket. She put the syringe down on the blanket and then abruptly stood up. “But Dad, you don’t understand! Jericho had the meth! We don’t have any! Jericho had the meth in his pocket!”

  “Oh,” Chuck said. “Well, yes, I suppose that would be problematic for you. Want me to go get it?”

  Jenny nodded rapidly, puffing her cigarette. “Yes. Please. Jesus fucking Christ. I just hope it’s still there.”

  Chuck turned around and then hurried back upstairs.

  He found Jericho’s corpse exactly where he had left it. Two male tweakers were standing over the body, looking down at it, probably trying to decide whether to go through Jericho’s pockets. He raised the gun and quickly approached the tweakers. “Get away from him,” Chuck said, “or you motherfuckers will be just as dead as he is.”

  The two tweakers scurried off into the shadows.

  Chuck found the meth in Jericho’s pocket. The ice was in a sandwich bag. The bag was so full that shards of crystal had poked through in several places. He put the bag in his jacket’s interior pocket. Then he grabbed Jericho’s wallet and headed back down the stairs.

  He returned to the candlelit room.

  “Was it still there?” Jenny said. She was pacing the room and Trinity was still sitting on the floor.

  Chuck nodded. “I got it. I also grabbed this.” He proffered Jericho’s wallet.

  Jenny accepted her brother’s wallet. “Thanks.” She took the money out of the wallet and tossed the wallet aside. Then she put the money in her pocket. “Some of that cash was mine, anyway. Not that it matters now, of course. Supposedly, everyone on Earth will be as dead as fried chicken by tomorrow night.”

  “So what the hell exactly is going on?” Chuck said. “Did someone declare nuclear war while I wasn’t looking?”

  Jenny shook her head. “No. At first they were saying an asteroid was coming, but now they’re saying it’s something worse.”

  “They?” Chuck said, making air quotes with his fingers—despite the fact that he was still holding the gun in one hand and the knife in the other.

  Jenny nodded. “Yes. They.”

  “Who the fuck is they? Who the fuck is saying that?”

  “Goddamn everybody, Dad. Jesus fucking Christ. Don’t you ever get online?”

  Chuck shrugged. “Not often. And what the fuck could be worse than a goddamn asteroid?”

  “I don’t know,” Jenny said. “My phone is almost dead. I need to get to a place with electricity.”

 
“So let’s go home,” Chuck said. “We can be there in two hours.”

  Jenny shook her head. “No, Dad. That’s not my home anymore. Whenever I’m there, I see Mom’s ghost everywhere, and all I do is cry. Can we just get a room? There’s plenty of hotels in this town. I’ll pay for it.”

  “Sure, if that’s what you want to do. And don’t worry about the money. I’ll pay for the room.”

  “Thanks, Dad. I just need to grab my stuff.”

  There was a suitcase and a duffel bag on the floor. Jenny picked the syringe up and put it in her duffel bag. “Give me your pipe, Trinity,” she said. The little girl handed her the lightbulb that had been converted to a meth pipe. Jenny put the pipe in her duffel bag and put the bag in her suitcase. She closed the suitcase and picked it up. Then she looked at Chuck. “Can I carry the meth? I would feel better with it in my pocket.”

  “Sure.” He gave her the bag of meth.

  She looked at it, nodded, and put it in her pocket. Then she looked down at the little girl. “Come on, Trinity. We’re leaving.”

  Trinity stood up quickly and Jenny grabbed one of her hands.

  They left.

  • • •

  Chuck drove. Jenny rode on the passenger’s side. Trinity was riding in the back.

  “Can we go to Walmart first?” Jenny said. “I want to get a few things for Trinity. I’ll be fast.”

  “Sure.” Chuck drove them to the same Walmart in which he had purchased the hunting knife.

  They went inside. The store looked like most Walmarts do at going on four o’clock in the morning: all but empty except for overnight stockers.

  Jenny grabbed a shopping cart, but—because she was holding Trinity’s hand—she looked at Chuck and said: “Will you push this?”

  Chuck had left the hunting knife in the car. The gun was in the waistband at the small of his back. “Sure.”

  Jenny bought some soda, a few snacks, a toothbrush, toothpaste, body wash, deodorant, shampoo, conditioner, an outfit, and some tennis shoes for Trinity.

  They left.

  Chuck drove them to a motel down the road. It was a ranch-style building, with one long row of rooms, and no second floor. The room doors all faced the parking lot. According to the sign, vacancy was available. The office was lit up. He parked in front of the office, killed the engine, and turned to Jenny. “You want to wait out here with her, while I go get us a room?”

  “Sure,” Jenny said.

  Chuck got out and went inside the office. Less than ten minutes later, he got back in the car. “It’s already four in the morning. Since checkout time’s eleven, I booked the room for two days.”

  He moved the car and parked in front of their room. The three of them got out and went inside.

  There were two queen-sized beds in the room.

  Chuck, holding Jenny’s suitcase, said, “I’ll take the bed by the window.” He put her suitcase on the floor beside the bed nearest the bathroom.

  Jenny shrugged. “Works for me.” She set the bags containing her purchases from Walmart on the floor beside her suitcase.

  “I gotta go grab my whiskey,” Chuck said. “Be right back.”

  He went outside. The bottle in his car was halfway empty. The one in the trunk hadn’t been opened yet. He grabbed both and went back inside.

  Jenny and Trinity were sitting on their bed. Jenny had already put her phone on charge. She had also already removed her duffel bag from the suitcase. She took the lightbulb that had been converted to a meth pipe from the duffel bag and handed it to Trinity.

  There was a nightstand by their bed that was bolted to the wall. On the nightstand was a phone and a phone book. Jenny took the syringe and a bottle of water from her duffel bag and set them on the nightstand. She put the phone book on her lap and used it as a tray for the bag of crystal meth.

  Chuck sat down at the small round table by the window. He took a few shots of whiskey while Trinity smoked meth and his daughter prepared some for injection. Jenny used the old crush-and-shake method that he had seen many of his friends (most of whom were now dead) use over the years: crush the ice into powder, mix it with water in the syringe, and then shake until the powder is gone.

  After injecting herself with meth, Jenny got up and grabbed some of the Walmart bags from the floor. Then she looked at Trinity. “Come on, little girl. You need a goddamn bath.”

  Trinity put her meth pipe on the phone book. Then she rose from the bed and followed Jenny into the bathroom.

  Chuck got up with his bottle of whiskey and found the remote control. He turned the TV on and sat down on his bed. He flipped through several channels before stopping on a news station. His gun—digging into the small of his back—was becoming uncomfortable. He removed it from his waistband and placed it on the bed beside him.

  He took a few shots of whiskey and watched the news. According to numerous reports, riots were already breaking out all over the planet in reaction to some forthcoming apocalypse. He was so drunk he had to keep putting one hand over an eye to keep from seeing two TVs.

  He took a few more shots. Soon, he was unconscious.

  • • •

  Chuck did not sleep long. When he woke up, the little girl was asleep to his left on the other bed. To his right, his daughter was sitting at the table by the window, staring at her phone. A cartoon was now playing on the television. He stood up, grabbed his bottle, and took two shots of whiskey.

  “Nice nap?” Jenny said.

  He shrugged. “I guess. I’m fucking starving. I should have grabbed some food while we were at Walmart.”

  “So have some of Trinity’s snacks. She didn’t eat any of that crap I bought her. She took a bath and pretty much passed out.”

  Chuck looked over at Trinity. She was sleeping in the new clothes that Jenny had purchased. Her hair was still wet. “She looks like a fucking skeleton. I’m not eating her food. Mind if I smoke some of your meth?”

  Jenny lowered her phone and looked up at her father. “I didn’t know you smoked meth.”

  Chuck took a shot of whiskey. “Smoked it once. Before you were born, so that had to have been over twenty years ago. I loved the goddamn buzz, but it took me like three fucking days to come down from the shit, so I never smoked it again. But now? Fuck it. I’ll smoke the shit.”

  Jenny nodded at the bag of meth on the table. “Knock yourself out.”

  Chuck took a shot and set his bottle on the table. “Be right back.”

  He went into the bathroom. He evacuated his bladder. He washed his hands and splashed some water on his face. He put some toothpaste on a finger and brushed his teeth. Then he went back out and sat down across from Jenny at the table.

  She handed him the pipe and a lighter. “Already packed it for you,” she said.

  Chuck quickly smoked the crystal meth, and the ice hit him almost immediately. His drunkenness was gone, replaced by a soaring euphoria. The high was sort of like a cocaine buzz, but a whole lot more intense.

  When he was finished with the pipe, he set it down and fired up a cigarette. They were in a nonsmoking room, so they were using disposable plastic cups half-filled with water to flip their ashes and put their butts in.

  “Sorry about the cartoon,” Jenny said. “I changed channels for Trinity. Want me to put it back on the news?”

  Chuck shrugged. “Whatever you want to do.”

  “Then I’ll just leave it,” Jenny said, “in case Trinity wakes up. The news is a bunch of bullshit, anyway.”

  Chuck took a shot of whiskey. “What time is it?” The blinds and curtains over the window were closed.

  Jenny looked at her phone. “Almost seven a.m. The president’s supposed to address the nation at eight.”

  Chuck cocked his head. “At eight o’clock in the morning? Isn’t that awfully early for a presidential address?”

  Jenny put some meth and some water in her syringe. Then she began shaking it. “It’s the end of the world, Dad. All of us are supposed to be gone by nine o�
��clock tonight.”

  Chuck rolled his eyes. He had a hard time believing the whole world was coming to an end, but a lot of other people apparently believed that it was true. He remembered seeing news reports of people rioting overseas before he had passed out a couple of hours ago. He took a shot of whiskey. “Did you ever find out what the fuck’s supposed to happen?”

  Jenny injected herself with meth. “No. Just like everyone else, I’ve heard everything from asteroid impact to alien invasion. But I’ve got a friend back home who says he knows for sure what is coming, and he told me that if we go there, he can show us.”

  “A friend?”

  “Yes. He messaged me while you were sleeping.”

  Chuck put his cigarette butt in one of the plastic cups. “Who’s your friend?”

  “Kyle Orban.” Jenny pulled the needle from her arm and set it down. “Smart dude. About your age. He used to teach physics at the university, but he got fired.”

  “For what?”

  “Not sure. I heard something about a scandal involving underage girls, but I’m pretty sure he was never charged with anything.”

  “How do you know him?”

  Jenny shrugged. “We used to date, but now we’re just friends.”

  Chuck took a shot of whiskey. “He’s my age, and you used to date him?”

  Jenny lit a cigarette. “He’s like you: he looks a lot younger than he is. And you bang chicks my age all the time, so fucking save it.”

  Chuck couldn’t argue with that. “What’s his name again?”

  “Kyle Orban.”

  “And you think this Kyle Orban knows what the fuck he’s talking about? That he can show us what’s supposedly coming to destroy the planet?”

  Jenny nodded. “I wouldn’t doubt it. I mean, he was drunk when he messaged me, but that’s nothing new. He’s like you: total alcoholic. But the dude definitely knows what the fuck he’s talking about.”

  Chuck took another shot. “You want to go see him? We can be there in two hours.”

  “Sure. But first, I think we should watch the presidential address.”

  She grabbed the TV remote and began changing channels, stopping on one of the major networks.

  “—reporting to you live from the press briefing room in the White House,” a pretty blond female was saying on the screen. “The president’s spokesperson has informed us that the address is now less than an hour away, so we’ll be staying live on the air until the address takes place. By now, most of you probably know the nature of the address, and that it relates to an impending apocalypse. Thus far, however, all the information we’ve received regarding the apocalypse has been unverified, so basically we don’t know anything more than you do. So stay tuned. Again, we’ll be staying live—”