by Greg Ness
“Lisa Binsby!”
Campbell was excited to see her. The crowd was excited to see her. Stephen’s jaw dropped. He didn’t think he’d ever see her again. Lisa and Paul Higgins kissed. His tongue found its way into her mouth; a disgusting sight for Stephen to endure. Stephen held his pool stick. One ball remained on the table. There was $2,000 riding on the game. More importantly, there was a big ego to crush. Paul Higgins glared at Stephen while keeping his confidence in tact. “Take your shot.”
Stephen’s eyes were fixated on Lisa, who was smiling at Paul and enjoying the gawking crowds. His heart fell to the floor and it felt like his entrails were sprawled out for everyone to see.
Stephen had seen Lisa many times onscreen. She had been in plenty of movies that he kept tabs on. But seeing her in person was different. Much different. He was reminded of the smile that used to radiate his heart and illuminate his soul. His mind had forgotten, but his heart would never forget. She hadn’t noticed him yet. Her laugh was the same one he heard many years ago. Stephen wanted to ditch the area to avoid the inevitable. It would be best for both of them.
Too late. Amid the excitement, Lisa finally turned her head and looked at Stephen. The exuberance in her face abruptly weakened. Her smile dropped and her eyes widened. She was stunned. Stephen looked into Lisa’s eyes and she became visibly shaken. Her eyes darted back and forth, looking at the ground, but always shooting back to Stephen. She attempted to regain her composure before Paul figured out something was wrong.
The crowd refocused on the pool table while others drifted away. Stephen pulled his gaze away from Lisa and back to the table. It would be hard to make any moves without feeling her eyes on him. He walked toward the end of the table to get closer to the cue ball. He tiptoed his way past Lisa and Paul. Lisa, who was snug in Paul’s arm, kept a laser view of Stephen as he snuck past.
Stephen looked at Lisa and whispered, “Hi.”
Lisa half-smiled in response. Her eyes were unsure. He could tell she was a wreck on the inside. He wanted nothing more than to reach out to her. To give her a hug. A reassuring hug, a caring hug, it didn’t matter. But he had to focus on the game.
Stephen lined up his shot. “8-Ball corner pocket.” He wasted no time. The shot was quick and perfect. The 8-Ball obediently traveled into the corner pocket. The game was over.
Stephen walked over to Paul’s guards to collect his earnings.
“That was great!” Campbell exclaimed to no one in particular.
“It was nothing,” Stephen said as the guard handed him his cash. “In fact, here.” Stephen transferred the money directly from the guard’s hand to Campbell’s. “Thanks for your help.” Stephen no longer cared about the money or the game.
Campbell looked at the huge wad of cash in his hand. It was times like these he really loved his job. The guard glared at Campbell, who said, “Take it easy fella,” with a giant smile.
Stephen went to the bar. He found a seat where Lisa and Paul were still in his view. They kept hidden across the way, in the corner with their guards. They were chatting with friends and fans. Stephen figured he might as well keep an eye on them in case Lisa decided she wanted to talk. He couldn’t approach her. That would ruin whatever she had with Paul. It would be better if he waited. At least that’s what he figured. So he sat and watched.
The multitudes of people in the bar made it difficult to maintain sight of them. Stephen drank and drank some more. For this occasion, he opted for some shots. It was the best way to numb the emotions he didn’t care to feel. The drunker he became, the louder the bar seemed to grow. The music and nonsensical sound of people talking over it started to give him a headache. He wouldn’t stay much longer.
The Lisa Binsby sighting reminded him of his regretful life. It killed him to think he’d have to live it all again, naïve of his miserable future.
Campbell sat next to Stephen, “Thanks for the cash, old friend.”
“Who you calling old?”
Campbell laughed, “Can you believe Lisa Binsby is here? She’s so great!”
“Yeah… She’s great.”
Stephen kept his eyes on Lisa. Paul Higgins had his arm around her with her body closely tucked to his. She inconspicuously glanced around, probably looking for him. Maybe.
“What’s wrong Stephen? You took down that jerk and you look depressed as hell.”
“Just nervous about the speech.”
“It’ll go great. We got a practice run tomorrow and then we’re gonna nail it in Congress. Don’t you worry.”
Stephen laughed. He took his eyes off Lisa and looked at Campbell, who gave Stephen a bizarre wink. Instead of winking with his eye, he used the whole side of his face. Stephen chuckled. Campbell couldn’t do anything suavely.
Stephen asserted, “You’re right, partner.”
Lisa had spotted Stephen at the bar a while ago. For the past hour, she wanted nothing more than to go talk to him. Truthfully, the past has haunted her, as she could only imagine it has for Stephen. There were so many mistakes she had made in her life and none was bigger and more devastating than what happened with Stephen. Her heart was always fearful, always guarded. The one time in her life she truly let someone in, she screwed it up. Would Stephen still be upset? There was so much she wanted to talk about. She itched every second away as her mind prodded, “Go talk to him! Go talk to him before he leaves!” Now she had her chance. Paul was going to the bathroom and finally leaving her alone. He was a possessive boyfriend. Truth be told, their relationship was close to being over. Lisa was strong and independent and Paul seemed to want a submissive, obedient woman.
She struggled through the packs of people and headed to where she had located Stephen sitting at the bar. The anticipation built with every step. She was more nervous than she had been in years. She once loved Stephen. Surely, she couldn’t allow herself to feel that way anymore, but she wanted to talk to him. She wanted to hear his voice again.
She wanted to smile again.
She approached his seat.
It was empty.
Stephen Pandora had already left the bar.
Campbell stood, staring at the floor. Stephen was sitting on his hotel bed with Miles.
“What should we do now?” Campbell wondered aloud.
Miles looked up at Stephen.
Stephen didn’t have the answers. They had done all they could in D.C. and failed. There was nothing they could’ve done to prevent the deadly broadcast of their new rival. Nonetheless, it was an empty feeling for both of them.
Stephen had many thoughts plaguing him: If this mystery man really did have weapons, he must have had some big-time help. Government help maybe? A large terrorist organization? But why would they want to blow up the whole world? They couldn’t have thought they were doing a favor for everyone. If they really believed everyone was going to get another chance to start over, it didn’t make sense for them to force it. He mentioned something about seeing someone named Sara. Did a family member die recently? Maybe that’s what caused it. The guy lost someone and snapped. But what were the odds he really had these weapons? And where were they? There was just no way. With the technology available today, someone would have been caught somewhere along the line, especially if the weapons were all over.
Stephen looked at Campbell’s eyes. They were filled with doubt. They bounced around, looking for answers in the room. Stephen knew what he had to do. He had unfinished business to take care of.
Stephen declared, “I’m going to back to Los Angeles.”
Campbell’s darting eyes landed on Stephen’s.
“What?”
“I’m going to Los Angeles in the morning. It will be our last chance to travel. Airspace will probably shut down. End of the world threats might do that. We’ll stop in Michigan so you can be with your family.”
Campbell laughed at the idea. “I like L.A. Count me in.” Campbell had come too far to give up on his friend now. Whatever he had up his sleeve, Campbell knew it wou
ld be important.
Stephen knew what he had to do: he had to find Lisa.
7
The Final Day-12:30 PM
Moros was a homeless man who walked down the boardwalk. He was handsome with a clean-cut appearance. He appeared to be in his mid 30’s: his skin was tanned, his brown hair was short, and his cheekbones were well-defined. His bright blue eyes were entrancing to anyone who gazed into them. Rags were his fashion style of choice. They were torn up and dirty but they kept him warm during the chilly nights. On his back, he lugged a beat-up, flimsy old blue backpack.
Since Stephen’s interrupted broadcast, the world had turned upside-down. And Moros found himself in the only place that had always been upside-down: Venice, California. On a typical day, Venice was a colorful, artsy, beach city filled with the most vibrant characters in the world. There were overly aggressive homeless people, people dressed as giant trees, and the final remnants of hippies from the ‘60’s. Up and down the boardwalk, only feet from the beach, vendors were selling exotic goods in tents, on tables, or straight off the ground. Artwork, incense, giant dead insects, and marijuana pipes were just some of the goods available.
This day, though, was different. It was the last day of the world. At least, everyone seemed convinced of that. There was a feeling in the air Moros had never felt before. Thousands of people stormed through the boardwalk, many holding hand-made signs: Repent!, You don’t even need money anymore! Can I have It?, We’re screwed!, and Moros’s favorite, The aliens will save us! Why were there so many people there on the last day of the world? Moros had no idea, but he figured it had something to do with the beach. The love for the ocean was universal.
Some assumed since Moros was homeless, he had screwed up somewhere along the way. They couldn’t be more wrong. Moros was a certified genius. It was, of course, by mere design that he was now ‘homeless’.
Rising from the sand on the beach, Moros spotted an enormous bonfire. The flames leapt into the air and danced into the sky. The fire was so thick, the ash was already raining down on him.
That’s where he was headed.
1:30 PM
The streets of Hollywood were chaotic. Riots ensued all over the city as people flooded the area to snag goods. The whole city was a battleground. People were throwing any object they could find through windows to gain access to stores. The possibility existed that the threat was an empty promise. If that was the case, tomorrow would be a great day for the rioters: they would have plenty of stolen stuff. Some rioters, not interested in stealing, were simply interested in mayhem. Those people were the ones to fear. Police officers gripping tall glass shields were scattered throughout the area, but there were too many people to handle.
Stephen and Campbell observed the mayhem from the minivan Stephen rented. The car rental place was all out of cars, so they were forced to settle for the minivan. It wasn’t the most conducive vehicle for an end-of-the-world scenario, but it would do. Miles lied comfortably in Campbell’s lap as Stephen drove. They were stuck in traffic: no surprise.
Campbell asked, “So where exactly are we going? We’re not joining the riots are we?”
“No.”
Stephen couldn’t believe the traffic. There wasn’t a car moving for miles. He had watched as the traffic light turned from red to green multiple times. He was growing impatient. If the world was going to end, it was going to happen in two hours.
Out his window, he saw a vendor whose sign read, Map To The Stars. The man sat in his booth amid the chaos. Rioters ran all around him, screaming and hell-bent on destruction. The man seemed oblivious to what was happening. That, or he had no fear of death and was fully committed to his job.
Stephen opened his window and yelled out, “Hey! You know where Lisa Binsby lives?”
Campbell’s head popped up in surprise, “What?”
The map vendor, a small man from India with a thick accent, replied, “Yes, of course I do, buddy. Would you like to buy a map?”
“Get in the car. Take me there.”
Campbell, again shocked, “What?!”
The small Indian man looked just as surprised. “Can’t do that buddy. I have a business here.”
Stephen looked around as lunatics were screaming, stealing, and destroying just about everything. This man wouldn’t leave his star maps booth?
“How much do you make in a day?”
The man, confused, stuttered.
Stephen interrupted, “You come with me, I’ll give you a thousand dollars.”
The man shot to his feet. He placed a “CLOSED” sign over his stand and came out from the booth. He walked toward the minivan. “What are all these kids upset about? Did their internets break?”
Stephen wasn’t sure if he should laugh. Unquestionably, this guy lived under a rock. Or in a star maps booth.
The man slid the minivan door open and sat next to Campbell. They gave each other an awkward nod.
“My name is Balwant Bunkich.”
Stephen looked in his rearview mirror. “I’m Stephen. Nice to meet you Ball Wot.”
“Balwant.”
“Sorry.”
Campbell interjected, “Umm, Stephen? Why are we going to Lisa Binsby’s house?”
2:00 PM
Since picking up Balwant, Stephen’s minivan made minimal progress. The rioters only grew in number. The police force grew in sync. With people running in the streets and alongside them, traffic moved less and less.
Stephen grew increasingly impatient. Balwant was comfortably asleep, his head on Campbell’s shoulder.
“Stephen!” Campbell yelled.
Stephen ignored him and stared at the frozen traffic.
Campbell yelled again, “Stephen!” Miles, joining in the effort, barked. Balwant awoke and stared out the window next to Campbell.
Stephen gave his attention to Campbell and Miles.
“What!?”
Stephen looked out the passenger window to see several crazed, shirtless men charging straight toward them. One man had a chair held high above his head and the others had bottle grenades. They wouldn’t explode, but they would certainly start the minivan on fire.
Campbell yelped, “I think now is a good time to go!”
Stephen glanced around the area. There was nowhere to go. Every road and intersection he could see was crammed with endless traffic. One of the men threw a bottle toward them. It soared through the air and narrowly missed, instead landing on the car in front of them.
“Damnit!” Campbell yelled.
The car in front of them engulfed in flames.
“Hold on guys!” Stephen instructed. He slammed on the gas and veered the minivan to the sidewalk. Stephen laid on the horn to get the rioters out of the way. Those who didn’t ricocheted and bounced off the side of the minivan. Enough was enough. If these fools wanted to riot, Stephen wasn’t going to go easy on them. The rioters diverted their attention to this renegade minivan. A group of naked women emerged to chase them down. Balwant watched with excitement and clapped. “Yes, yes, yes! Thank the Lord!”
Other vehicles locked in traffic joined behind them on the sidewalk. Some plowed down the rioters. Roads didn’t matter anymore.
“Look what you did!” Campbell exclaimed.
Cars crashed into each other as they tried to follow Stephen’s lead. The sounds of colliding metal popped like fireworks. The rioters moved in waves to attack traffic. Cars shot up in flames. Fights broke out as people got out of their cars to attack. The rioters were now at war with the people in traffic.
“My god,” Stephen muttered
Stephen escaped the madness and zoomed through a side street that faced another mess of traffic. “Damnit!” They were stuck again, albeit in a safer area.
2:30 PM
Mikey stood in his cell with his hands tied in chains above his head. His feet were bound below him. He was somewhere underground but wasn’t sure which room they had put him in. It looked like a place they’d put prisoners in the 1400’s;
it was dark, wet, and isolated.
Mikey was a black eighteen year-old. His shirt was ripped to shreds and he had plenty of scars and bruises to show for his time fighting. His whole life had been tough. His attitude and fearlessness was what kept him alive. His mother died giving birth to him and his father was murdered when Mikey was just a toddler. He ran away from his orphanage and lived on the streets, in a crime-ravished area of Grand Rapids. A buddy tried to force him into a gang. Despite being heavily recruited, he never joined and his friend lived to regret the effort. Mikey spent many years alone, fending for his life, until he was adopted. Things started to turn around for him. Until he became caught up in this mess. Then everything spiraled out of control.
There was nothing he could do to save himself. He was a vicious tiger tied down and out of energy. He was half-awake when his cell door unexpectedly whipped open. It was him: the man who interrupted Stephen’s speech, the man who was going to destroy the world.
