How I Spent the Apocalypse

by Selina Rosen

  I looked down at the scattered pieces of wood. I had too much to do to waste time dealing with these idiot yuppie scum.

  I watched as the girl and her cameraman got out and then frowned, trying to think how to get rid of them the quickest. There’s a lot to do when you’re just minutes away from the end of the world. This time it was just the girl and a cameraman; I usually got inundated with a full news crew. I assumed that because of all that was happening they were spread a little thin.

  I knew the reporter. It wasn’t the first time she’d been here, and she’d never once masked her obvious disdain for me and all I stood for. I also knew she had to be really bitter about being sent to talk to the crazy woman instead of getting a “real” assignment.

  Of course as much as Lucy annoyed me, and as much as I did NOT want to see her right then, she was at least in part responsible for my “success.” You see, I didn’t come by the over three million listeners by accident. When I started out I probably had only a handful of listeners. Then of course they told others and pretty soon there were a few hundred. Few of those donated, though, so the income mostly just kept up my computer equipment at best. I guess what really opened it up, what got me all the loyal followers who gladly donated enough money for me to finish building, stocking and fortifying my home the way I wanted to, was the news coverage.

  See, when the second of the mega hurricanes hit the gulf coast and several of the survivors explained that they had survived because of what they’d learned on my podcast, my audience just grew overnight. Then, three months later a family that made it through a group of three F4 twisters that tore up greater Memphis and killed thousands of people said that their survival was completely due to the fact that they listened religiously to my podcast and took my advice. That was the first time the news people came. Of course the fact that I was on the news just got even more people listening.

  After that… Well the weather got progressively worse, didn’t it? When flood survivors, fire, hurricane, and tornado survivors all started saying my podcast was the reason they were alive, the number of listeners kept growing and the donations kept rolling in and getting bigger. Some of them gave me a butt-load of money. There was a lesbian couple owned a bed and breakfast and a natural gas well who sent me thousands of dollars. Do the math people. You have three million listeners. If only a third of them give you a dollar and some of them give you butt loads… It’s a lot of money.

  But you know what? It takes a lot of money to build what I built, and it takes a lot of money to set up the system that I set up.

  Every time I would sound any sort of alarm like telling one area of the country or another to hunker down or get out, whether I wound up being right or being wrong, here came this sexy little tight-assed reporter to ask ole Crazy Katy questions—her tongue all but poking a hole right in her cheek.

  “Too busy. Can’t talk,” I said, waving my arms in front of me. The camera was already rolling, and no matter what I said these dick heads would discount it. I think she lived for the sole intent and purpose of making me look like the biggest nut job in all of North America. “Listen… End of the world as we know it is coming and I’ve got a lot of crap to do, so…” I waved my hand dismissively, which… Well she might have been a grade A yuppie bitch, but she was hot as hell and me? Well I’m as queer as they come and had been mostly single for years, so the fact that I was in such a big-assed hurry to get rid of her tells you just how sure I was that the world was about to go boom.

  “Ms. Sanders, always before you have said ‘maybe’ in your reports. You’ve pointed to this area or to that, and…”

  “Are we live?” I asked.

  “We can be,” she assured me as I went to take the windmill down. It’s really cool by the way. I just undo the cables and belts, push a couple of buttons, and it goes right into a hole in the ground. Then I push a button and the steel door closes over the top of it. I had just got them closed and locked when the camera guy said…

  “Going live in three...two…one…”

  “I’m Lucy Powers reporting from just outside Rudy, Arkansas. I’m here with Katy Sanders, the owner and operator of Living Through The End dot com…”

  “We don’t have time for any of this shit. Listen people, all hell is about to break loose on a global scale. Maybe you think what happened yesterday is all the way across the globe. The Pakistanis threw half a dozen nukes at India, and India threw twice that many back and… It’s just them. Well it’s not going to be just them. Do you have any idea how much dirt was thrown into the atmosphere? Besides, that whole area is sitting on a huge fault. Look, everything has been out of balance for a long time. Climate change has been kicking our ass, and unless I’m dead wrong we’re about to see a chain reaction of disasters. So if you’re still in a big city put your head between your knees and kiss your ass good bye...”

  The camera man started to shut down the camera, so I took the gun out of my pocket, pointed it at his head and cocked it. I didn’t even lose my train of thought.

  “If you aren’t in a city, fill everything you can get your hands on with water. Get to a store, stock up on non-perishable food items. Everyone find some way that doesn’t include utilities running to keep warm. If you are on the coasts, get to higher ground. I’m going to keep running all through the apocalypse, so if you can get a radio signal, go to one ninety-eight AM, I’ll be there telling you what I can at eight AM and eight PM US Central every day. You have a ham radio? You can contact me at T-H-E-E-N-D-one-four-seven.”

  I uncocked the gun, put the safety back on, and put it back in my pocket. I looked at Lucy, whose jaw just hung open. Then I ran off to check that the barn door was locked—which of course it was—that the solar panels where in their hiding hole just like the wind mill—which of course they also were. In my head I was checking off a list of all the things I might have forgotten. When I came back and started picking up the armload of wood I’d dropped, the sky was already looking black, and Lucy was saying something about the number of times I’d been wrong about other disasters. I pointed at a dip where a dark sky met a merely gray one and told her. “See that? That’s cold air hitting hot air. It’s a hook. There will be at least one tornado in this storm. You best find shelter quick.”

  With that I walked inside, closed the door, and started broadcasting. I had to get the word out, warn as many people as I could. After all, those people had helped me build the perfect home to protect me and mine—if I could get mine to come home—from the coming apocalypse and I owed them. Besides, unlike so many other survivalists, I didn’t really see much sense in surviving if no one else did. I podcast at the same times every day. Then I powered the radio transmitter up for the first time. Radio was the most reliable thing we’d have left, and I had bought equipment strong enough to send and receive from around the globe. It was ready to go, too. I’d have to compete with other stations now, and I guess if the world didn’t blow up I could be arrested for breaking any number of FCC regulations, but first off I was sure this was it and second… Well I’m crazy and I had plenty of money, so I wouldn’t do any real time.

  When I had warned everyone I could and had given them all the information I could think of to give them I set it up on a loop so that it would play over and over again. Then I went in to the living room, turned on the TV, and started watching the news. After all, the way I figured it this might be the last time I got to watch news.

  I kept switching channels back and forth trying to see what everyone’s take was on things. They were all mostly still keeping their heads planted up their asses. The weather channel was having a field day. Let’s face it, even with all the bad weather of the last few years their jobs were mostly trying to make things like rains storms sound exciting. It was clear by the expressions on their faces when they went from thinking this was all just very exciting to “we’re all fucked.”

  Someone was actually getting a tornado on film as it ripped apart a house and barn and then it was pretty obvi
ous that whoever was holding that camera wasn’t any more—in that “he’s dead” sort of way. There were a few seconds that we actually got to see up in the funnel and then nothing. Then some red-faced news guy who no doubt knew it was the end of the world was warning everyone to take shelter and…

  I knew that wasn’t going to be enough. I was worried about my boys, so I called them on the cell phone.

  “Don’t worry, Mom. We’re in the basement and we’ve got all our stuff. We’re going to be alright,” Billy said. In the background my younger son was screaming hysterically.

  “I’m sorry mama! I’m sorry! God I’m sorry!”

  “Billy?”

  “Yeah, Mama?”

  “Slap your brother’s face, and then tell him I love him.” I could hear a slapping sound and then Jimmy screaming, “What did you do that for?” Then Billy telling him it was because I loved him.

  “You boys remember everything I taught you.”

  “We will, Mama. We’re sitting good, so don’t worry about us.”

  “I love you, Billy.”

  “Love you, too, Mama.”

  Don’t worry about them! What a stupid, fucking thing to say. I wouldn’t have had to worry about the stupid little fuckers if they had been in the house with me, but no… They just had to be all independent. I seriously wonder how the world got so God-damn overpopulated. I mean why do people want kids? What makes them have them? Hell, some people went out of their way to have them. Why is the need to procreate so strong? Kids are nothing but a heartache and a worry. You fix everything for them so that they’ll be safe during the apocalypse, and what do they do? Decide you’re a crackpot and move into the city to get away from you.

  The city!

  I switched to CNN. They were reporting a massive quake that was shaking all of Pakistan and most of Turkey and had caused a volcanic eruption. Santa Anna winds were fueling fires that were raging all across Southern California as gale-force winds struck the entire Pacific Coast. Hurricanes were forming all across the Atlantic seaboards. They were predicting a strong arctic blast descending on Canada, and that was of course the real problem. The real problem for the US was that this was happening in November—winter—which meant things were going to get really nasty, especially up north.

  I had just stood up to go make another announcement and tell my listeners what CNN was reporting when I heard someone knocking on the door. Now I knew it wasn’t my boys, and I would have had to kill them both if it was because traveling in this shit would have meant that they broke my very first rule. But I have to tell you that part of me hoped it was my boys, and I was damned disappointed when I opened the outer door and it was that fucking reporter.

  Chapter 2

  It’s Yours Not Theirs

  ***

  Your supplies are for you, and your shelter is for you. You can’t let anyone else in. If you let those who didn’t prepare for this eat your food and drink your water, then you and your family will die just like the dumbass who never even put together a plan or a survival pack.

  The average apartment dweller in the big city doesn’t have enough food to last a week.

  If you are close to a large city you will most likely have to defend yourself against all the stupid fucks who didn’t realize that twenty pounds of dried beans and rice can go a long way. A drawer full of jerky could last months if you ration it with all your other foods, and everyone should just always keep a three-year supply of multi-vitamins for each member of their family. Cycle them out so that they don’t go bad, but put them back and make sure you always have a three-year supply in your survival kit.

  Don’t wait till your food and water supplies get low to start rationing. Ration from day one. If anyone bitches explain that they can eat their portion of the rations and be happy or they can go hungry for a day and see what it really means to be starving to death.

  These will not be easy times. It will be hard to turn friends and neighbors away. I suggest if you have the room and money you might put back some supplies just so you can help your friends and neighbors. Also it might be beneficial for groups of people to make plans to all stay at one residence which may be better suited for the apocalypse. You can group together and share resources. For instance, if it is super cold it will be easier to heat one room in one house than twenty rooms in twenty houses. More people means more body heat, too, but you must make sure that each person brings food and water with them. If sharing your supplies and your space with other people is not beneficial to you, if all it will do is tax your already meager larder, then you must turn them away.

  Yep, wise words. Of course Lucy Powers didn’t give me much choice. The wind was horrible, and she didn’t wait to be asked in. I didn’t wait to put my whole body into it and shut and bolt the exterior door, either. I hurried her through the interior door that opens into the corridor which connects the house to the barn, the shop, and my primary storage facilities.

  Did I mention my listeners gave me a LOT of money?

  She was crying, saying incoherent things, and there were little cuts all over her face and hands. I gently guided her into the house and into the bathroom where I helped her sit down on the commode and started to treat her wounds.

  “I didn’t know where else to go!” She cried. “The whole world’s coming apart out there… Grayson.” She sobbed. “He’s just gone, sucked up by it. God! He’s dead and I just ran. I just ran.” She kept crying, which made it hard to treat her wounds, and the whole time I was just going over what I’d told my listeners a dozen times about the evils of taking someone in who had nothing to give you.

  And she literally had nothing. Even the clothes on her back were ripped to shreds. To make matters worse I was pretty sure she had no skills that would be useful. She probably didn’t even know how to wash a dish without a machine to do it for her.

  And I knew she thought I was a lunatic.

  Of course I am a lunatic, so I didn’t really think it was much of a reason to hold a grudge, and it wasn’t like I didn’t have enough supplies.

  “What’s happening?” she asked. When she looked up at me with those big, blue eyes, I suddenly thought of something she might be good for.

  She made a face as the hydrogen peroxide hit the cut by her eye that I was treating. It wasn’t bad. It didn’t need stitches, which was almost too bad because I know how to stitch people up real good. None of her cuts were deep, but they all needed to be treated if for no other reason than I had all the stuff to do it with.

  “What’s happening?” she asked again.

  “Tornados, hurricanes, fire storms, earthquakes… I’m just going to go out on a limb and once again say… End of the world!”

  Then we could hear it, that awful sound that tornados make. People say it’s like a train, but it’s not. It’s more like they let every demon out of hell at once and the train was running over all of them at the same time. Even in my house under two reinforced domes of concrete I had this feeling of impending doom, and I was really worried about my boys.

  The tornado touched down on my place briefly and then it jumped and just sort of stayed right over us, taunting us before it went on its destructive way leaving so-called straight-line winds—which will do a hell of a lot of damage all by themselves. As the giant hail started smashing into my house I cringed. All my stuff was put up, locked down, and hopefully tornado proof, but somewhere out there that stupid girl had parked that God-damned rental car.

  “Where’s your car?” I screamed over the crashing roar that was just getting louder.

  “It went with the twister and Grayson.” She cried again, but I had new respect for the girl’s survival instincts because she had obviously run here from God only knew how far. I looked down and saw she was actually wearing running shoes and decided she wasn’t as stupid as I had previously thought.

  “Good, at least we don’t have to worry about it being slammed into the house,” I said. I was done treating her wounds. She needed a bath, but that could
wait.

  “It couldn’t be that bad… I mean the lights are still on.”

  “Ah huh,” I said, thinking I could explain that the whole place ran off its own power supply later.

  She said she needed to use the bathroom, so I left her to it and cringed when she flushed the toilet. We never flushed unless there was a turd in it. You certainly don’t waste water during a disaster. Of course I had more than enough water, but I don’t believe in wasting it.

  I don’t believe in wasting anything.

  When she came in and sat down she had obviously combed her hair and washed her face and hands, which more or less undid everything I’d done. She sat down on the couch nowhere near me and watched the TV with a sort of blank stare. I had turned the local news back on. It didn’t sound good. There were at least six funnel clouds that had been spotted, and one had hit the ground in Rudy proper. The hail was golf-ball to soft-ball sized, and what the tornados and wind weren’t destroying it undoubtedly was. Oklahoma City and Tulsa also had tornado warnings. The few pictures they had of Fort Smith were so bad that I couldn’t even tell what part of town they were picturing.

  My cell phone rang. It was my boys, and this time Jimmy was on the phone.

  I was never so glad to hear anyone’s voice in my life. “Mama, we’re OK how are you?”

  “Great now that I know you’re alright.”

  “It hit us. Billy’s really upset. He’s sure his house is completely gone. We can’t get the basement door open.”

  “Put Billy on the phone, honey.”

  “Mama…”

  “Billy, don’t even try to get out of the basement tonight and don’t worry about the damned house. Ain’t none of it gonna matter now anyway. You enjoyed it while you had it, and hell, boy, the bank owned more of it than you did anyway.”

  “What should we do, Mama?”

  “Did you bring your chain saw and axe down in the basement with you?”

  “Yep.”