After Tomorrow: A CHBB Anthology

by Samantha Ketteman

  Watching the fire come closer and closer, I watched as the heat singed my hair, though nothing could make me move away. The fear of the unknown was greater than my fear of the inferno. Pain radiated down my back, in both arms and at the base of my head. My mind started to shut down as all the possibilities of how I would die and how I would never see my family again taunted me. Unable to hold onto reality any longer, I watched the flames grow higher and closer and as I looked into Jonny’s eyes everything went black.

  

  I had no idea how long I had been out, but it was obvious from the throbbing in my head and the stabbing pain in my leg that I was still alive. My next thought was of Jonny. My voice broke as I called his name, anxiety washed through me like a tidal wave. It took only a moment before he was at my side.

  “Shush, it’s okay.” Reaching down, he gently moved my hair from my eyes. His ash filled face smiled at me as he helped me to sit up. The light was weak; the sun barely above the horizon, but it was still the best thing I had ever seen.

  I could feel the heat behind us and as I turned, I was surprised at how far we were from the building that was ablaze. When I concentrated on the man beside me, I saw the cuts on his face, his clothes ripped and in some places singed. “Are you hurt?” My hand automatically reached out to him.

  Pulling me to my feet he wrapped me in his arms. What started as a few tears became more of a torrent and eventually heart wrenching sobs. He held me tight and let me bawl until I was too exhausted to continue.

  “Let’s go home.”

  Dead World

  Toni Lesatz

  Starting my day in a panic was always the worst. Little did I know how bad it would be when I woke that stifling morning in June.

  I rolled over in bed and opened my eyes to darkness. The blackout curtains helped keep the sun’s rays from penetrating my room. The horrible sight of flashing lights on my alarm clock, which made me shout obscenities, greeted me. I shot straight up in bed, immediately grabbing my cell phone to check the time. Do I need to rush to be only slightly late for work, or am I already screwed? Do I even have time for a much needed cup of coffee? The digital clock on my cell phone revealed all zeros instead of the time.

  I sprung out of bed. “What the hell is going on?”

  Irritated at whatever devil had cursed me to this kind of hell, I stomped off to the kitchen for my morning fix. More numbers flashed at me from all over the room. My coffee maker, microwave, and the stove all mocked me. At least the power was back on and I could actually have a cup of coffee. People could be seriously injured, potentially resulting in death, if they were forced to face me decaffeinated. I popped a K-cup into the machine and waited. Even with the reduced time to make a single serving, I impatiently drummed my fingers on the edge of the counter. Patience is not my strongest virtue. Someone needed to invent a coffee maker that started brewing when I began thinking about coffee from the comfort of my bed. All would be right in the world that much sooner if a freshly brewed cup was waiting for me each morning.

  I sat down at the kitchen table with my tablet to scroll through my Facebook feed and check my emails, but when I logged on I found something strange. Nothing had been updated in eight hours. No emails had come through, and no new posts had been made. I’d read all of the posts before I went to bed, so it couldn’t have been later than seven AM. It was dark and cloudy outside, which made it difficult to tell the time by looking out the window. I tried refreshing the page, resetting my cable modem, and anything else I thought would force something new to show up. My efforts were in vain. I checked other sites as well, but found the same results on every page. The most recent updates showed the same tag under each status: posted eight hours ago.

  I walked into the living room, the bottom of my red fuzzy slippers scraping across the dark kitchen tile as I went, and flopped into the tan recliner with my cup of coffee. With the remote in hand, I flipped through the TV stations to find static on every one.

  “What the heck!” I shouted at my television set, as if it was responsible.

  I went outside to see if my neighbors were out searching for answers as well. The wind ripped the screen door from my hand and slammed it into the side of the house. I pulled my robe tighter around me. The air was warm, as it usually was in June, but I felt chilled for some reason.

  My two-story house sat in the middle of the block. I scanned the area but didn’t see anyone outside. Everything appeared normal. My neighbors’ cars were all parked in their respective driveways. Bubble mowers,brightly colored big wheels, and an assortment of other children’s toys were scattered across their yards. I realized something after a moment; none of the cars had moved. Cars that should’ve been on the road were still tucked into their spots from the night before. There was no traffic, no dogs barking, no lawn mowers humming, and no children frolicking around annoying me with their high-pitched squeals. I’m not the biggest fan of kids, which is why I’m still single at thirty and not reproducing pint-sized monsters that reflect everything I hated about my own childhood. Other than the gusts of wind, nothing outside moved.

  I shook my head. “Something ain’t right.”

  I was in close proximity to Detroit so there was always noise, even in the middle of the night. If it wasn’t the constant din from the commuting vehicles on the nearby interstate, then it was coming from the airplanes that made their way to and from Metro Airport every few minutes. There was nothing; not a bee buzzing, a fly to swat, or a squirrel scurrying up a nearby tree.

  I walked out into the middle of the street and looked to where a busy road intersected my own street three blocks down. As far as my eyes could see there were no signs of life.

  “Hello!” I shouted with my hands cupped around my mouth.

  No response.

  I crossed to the other side of the street and walked one house over to the neighbor I liked the most on the block. She didn’t have kids. Maybe that’s why I enjoyed her company so much; no whining in the background anytime we sat down to have a drink.

  Tap, tap, tap.

  I knocked on her front door and waited. I was anxious to find out what she thought about all of this. I was dying to speak to anyone that might know what was going on and I grew impatient.

  Bang, bang, bang.

  I knocked louder in case she was in the bathroom. I knew she wasn’t at work because her car was still in the driveway. I waited two minutes, plenty of time for her to get to the door, before deciding to let myself in. The door was locked, but she was one of those forgetful types who kept a house key behind a loose brick next to her mailbox.

  “Shelley!” I shouted through the open door. “It’s Laney!”

  I walked through her cluttered living room, continuing to make my presence known. I didn’t want to frighten her. “I just want to make sure you’re okay. I knocked a few times, but—“

  “Oh my god!” I shrieked as I stumbled upon her body lying outside her bedroom door. I dropped to my knees so fast that one of my slippers flipped off my foot.

  “Shelley?” I shook her gently. “Shelley, what’s wrong?” I continued my attempt to wake her, more violently now. She was so pale that her skin had a blue tint to it. I put my fingers to her neck and checked for a pulse.

  I tried performing CPR, but it was hopeless. She was already gone.

  How did this happen?

  There were no marks on her that I could see, and after a quick walkthrough, I confirmed that the doors and windows in her house were all locked. What were the chances she died of natural causes at twenty-eight years old?

  I started sobbing immediately. I wasn’t sure if I was crying because my neighbor was dead, or because this was officially the worst day of my life, not including the ability to have a cup of coffee this morning. I ran back to the living room where I’d seen her cell phone sitting on the coffee table. I needed to call 911, although I didn’t think they’d be able to do anything for her now. I pushed the top of her Blackberry up with my thumb a
nd was greeted with a bright, blank screen. The light was on, but nobody was home.

  “Wonderful,” I muttered. “What the hell is going on here, Shelley?” I knew she wouldn’t respond, but I needed someone to answer my questions. Now would’ve been a good time to have a dog, and although they weren’t the best conversationalists, I’d heard they were good listeners without judgment.

  My neighbor was lying dead in her house and I had no way to call for help. The world seemed to be dead, too, at least in my neck of the woods. I continued to the next house on my block and began to knock on the door. Again, I was met with no response. I started banging as hard as I could, loud enough to wake the dead. Well, maybe not. The panic rose to an overwhelming level. My pulse raced out of control and sweat began to bead on my forehead. Catching my breath was becoming more difficult by the second.

  I was officially freaked out.

  I tried to scream, but the words came out in a broken sob. “Can someone help me, please?”

  The knot forming in my throat grew larger and I did my best to swallow it down. It was not the time for a meltdown. I would mourn for Shelley when the time came, but I had to find someone to call for help first.

  “Hellooooo!” I screamed again. “I need help here!”

  I ran back to my side of the street and started pounding on everyone’s door I knew before knocking on the ones that I didn’t. No one answered. I looked in the windows, but the view inside was difficult to discern. Most of the lights were off and the dismal sky did nothing to aid my sight. The air seemed to be growing colder, which didn’t make sense in the middle of the summer.

  Maybe I’m going into shock.

  I trudged back home to get dressed. After putting on the first clean outfit I could find, a pair of jeans and a gray t-shirt to match my mood, I pulled my blonde hair up in a ponytail to wash my face. I stared at the image in the mirror, my eyes red-rimmed from crying, and silently pleaded with myself to wake from the nightmare.

  “What am I going to do?” I asked my reflection. It didn’t have any answers, just as I’d suspected.

  I tried flipping through the TV stations again, but the continued static ridiculed me. Grabbing my keys off the counter, I jumped in my car and drove to the police station, which was only a mile away. Chills crept up my spine as an eerie feeling overwhelmed me. It was as if the world had just been created and I was the first person to inhabit it.

  I parked my Beamer behind the local police department and slammed my fist against the steering wheel before getting out. I really wanted to punch something, or have someone slap me. I have to be dreaming. I have to wake up eventually. I envisioned myself curled up in bed and having a bad dream. I didn’t even care if I would be late for work, as long as it was all just my mind processing the scary movie I’d watched before bed last night. My boss would forgive me. John was a decent man who understood that shit happened from time to time. It wasn’t as if my duties were paramount. Being an orderly at the nursing home was rewarding since I preferred senior citizens to children, but if I showed up late for work, no one died because of my negligence.

  The glass, metal-framed door swung open with ease as I entered the station. I didn’t know what to expect when I entered. I wanted to see cops running around in a panic, speaking to each other in clipped tones caused by the stress of the situation. What I found was nothing more than the buzzing and flickering of fluorescent lights above as I walked swiftly down the narrow hallway. I reached an open area of desks littered with paperwork, stained coffee cups, and more dead phones. Not one of them was ringing. A giant balloon of disappointment swelled inside of my chest until I thought I’d choke on it.

  Deep breaths, Laney. Stay focused.

  I knew cell phones weren’t functioning properly, but I desperately wanted something to be happening.

  I walked further into the room and my eyes widened. Two police officers, probably from the night shift, were lying on the floor, their skin pale just like I’d found Shelley. One of the officers was a large man, the buttons on his shirt strained against the pressure of his distended belly. His dark hair and eyes looked surreal in contrast with his bluish, pocked skin. The other was a muscular gentleman, probably a man that made housewives flock to the station for even the smallest occurrences. His sandy hair fell in waves over his forehead and his piercing blue eyes that stared at nothing caused me to shiver. Just like with Shelley, there didn’t look to be a struggle, just more dead bodies.

  The lump in my throat became too big to swallow, and I crumbled to the floor in a fit of frenzied weeping. I didn’t know these men. I wasn’t crying for them, really. I was crying for me. I am completely alone.

  I don’t know how long I lay on the police station floor. I looked at the large clock on the far wall, but the time hadn’t changed since I arrived. Through the windows of the precinct, the sky was still washed in gray, just as it had been since I walked into my kitchen that morning. I couldn’t see the sun behind the clouds to determine the time of day. I finally peeled myself off the dirty floor and headed back toward the door.

  I was startled by a noise before I could reach the hallway. The sound had come from behind a closed door over to the right. The name Captain D. Ross was etched into the gold nameplate in a bold font. Approaching the door, I put my hand against it before pressing my ear against the smooth wood. I listened intently, hoping to hear more movement to prove I hadn’t gone insane. The buzz, buzz, buzzing from the fluorescent lights was ear-splitting in contrast to the otherwise silent world. I ground my teeth in frustration. The inability to hear anything more through the door furthered my irritation, so I turned the knob and flung the door open without another thought.

  I called out into the dark office. “Anyone in here?” My voice was gravelly. My throat had gone dry long ago when the tears dried up. A drink of water sounded like heaven.

  I walked into the office and felt along the wall for a light switch. When my hand made contact I flipped the knob up, but nothing happened.

  A discouraged growl escaped my lips. “Of course.”

  I ventured further into the shadows toward the large rectangular outline I presumed was a desk.

  “Hello! Are you hurt? Do you need help?”

  Papers crinkled under my sneakers with every step. I felt around the desk, my eyes beginning to adjust in the darkness, but it was empty. Strange, I thought. I walked around to the other side and began pulling drawers open.

  Bingo! With the flashlight in hand, I flipped the switch to the on position while pointing the bulb away from me to test its strength on the farthest wall.

  And it works. One point for Laney.

  I shone the light around the office to get a better look at the scene. It appeared that most of the contents from the top of the desk had been cleared in one continuous sweep. I followed the trail of evidence across the floor with the beam of light until my screams filled the air.

  I expected to find someone scared and hiding, not another dead body. The older man’s eyes, like all the rest, were staring off into the distance, his skin the same pale tint of blue. By the trail of paperwork, scattered pens, and the smashed computer monitor on the floor next to him, I deduced he’d been standing when his body shut down and he took everything off the desk with him. Perhaps he had grasped for something to keep him upright when he began to fall. Who knows? It doesn’t matter now. He was gone, like everyone else I’d encountered in town.

  Minutes later I was back in my car. Not knowing what else to do, I cautiously drove around town looking for any signs of life. Most of the houses I happened upon were locked up tight, the way they were left when the occupants had gone to bed. There were dead bodies, in the same condition as the others I’d found, lying on the streets where they’d been at the time the event, or whatever it was, happened. In the more populated areas of town, I had to carefully navigate around wrecked vehicles. Silhouettes slumped over steering wheels and vacant faces pressed against glass. I could feel the hair on my arms rise as I
took in the horrific scene. The silence around me was deafening. It was as if the world had just stopped while I was sleeping. Like God had flipped a switch and shut down his main project. The world was dead.

  Why have I been spared from this hellish tragedy? Maybe this is my own personal hell where I’ll be trapped alone for the rest of time. The thought caused a shiver to travel the length of my spine. There has to be someone else. I can’t be the only one still breathing.

  With no other options remaining, I formulated the only plan I could.

  I must find another survivor.

  A week later I sat at my kitchen table with only a small candle providing light. The power had gone out before the end of the first day. With no one alive to keep things running, I should’ve expected it, but it was still a shock. On the worn out map spread out before me, I checked off the places I’d been that week and began to circle the areas that I still needed to scout. I tried my best to adjust to my new way of life, but that didn’t stop the tears from streaming down my face every chance they got. Scavenging for supplies and searching for survivors during the day kept my grief at bay, but trapped in the house at night with only my thoughts was a different story. I had played my last game of Angry Birds two days ago before the battery on my phone finally died. I had only my mission to keep me occupied, and that wasn’t going too well.

  Each day I travelled farther out, always starting and ending the day at my house. Heading into Detroit on the second day was my least favorite part. The amount of people lying in the streets smacked me hard across the face. This is my reality now. No nightmare can last this long. I’m not dreaming and I am pretty sure I’m not in a coma. The smell of rotting corpses was enough to convince me. I had never been near a decaying body before. The odor was one I couldn’t possibly make up in my head. The sickly sweet smell of rancid meat assaulted my nose at every turn. I lost count of how many times I’d vomited by the end of that day. I was beginning to think that no matter where I went, no matter how far I ventured away from home, the scenery would be the same everywhere. There is nothing I can do except get used to it. I was looking forward to winter for once in my life, praying that the lack of heat would eliminate the smell. Yes, I still pray in the midst of this hell.