PreApocalyptic – Chapter 2 (a bit of exposition)

“The line’s out,” Jim announced as he set the phone back onto the receiver.

“Can’t say I’m surprised” Mike crouched next to and examined the strange man. He touched two fingers to the man’s neck, “with this storm, I expect this man will be our last visitor tonight.” After receiving inquiring looks from the others in the room, he added, “yeah, he’s dead.”

The group, while not surprised giving the copious amount of blood he had spilled, was taken aback nonetheless by this news. Kate gasped silently and turned her face from the crowd. Sam rubbed his forehead. Mark slowly removed his hat and placed it over his heart. Even Ed seemed to momentarily sober up.

Kate broke their moment of silence, “What do we do now?” She looked around for any sign of life from the others’ faces, “we can’t just spend the whole night here with a dead man in the room.”

“She’s right,” Jim asserted, before pointing at Sam, “run to the supply closet and get me a fresh mop bucket. Mike, I think we have some blankets in the back room. Let’s use one of those to wrap him up. Mark, I need you to head to the kitchen and clear some space in the freezer —”

“Wait, what?!”

Jim stared back at Mark, dumbfounded. “The walk-in freezer… it’s in the kitchen. Just move some boxes around.”

“I know what it is,” Mark protested, “I just think there are better ways of dealing with this than hiding it!”

Jim bit his lip. He didn’t particularly want to deal with this at the moment. He glanced over at Mike and raised an eyebrow.

The cop took his cue. “All due respect, preacher, ‘hiding’ isn’t exactly the idea here. With the phones out and the storm going, we can’t do much about contacting the authorities until morning. However…”

Jim stepped back in to finish the justification. “We can clean the blood off my floor and get rid of the smell.”

Mark accomplished his assigned task, free of any more complaining. Jim could tell that his heart wasn’t in it, but that wasn’t important so long as the job was completed. Once a suitable space was cleared in the freezer, Jim instructed Mike and Sam to transport the body, which they did, and proceeded to pick up the mop and clean the blood.

After a few minutes, the six people of varying familiarity with each other reconvened, free of the residue stench of blood and decay.

Kate, once more, asked “so… what do we do now?”

“Well,” Jim answered, “I’m going to take a nap in my office. You all are free to sleep where you may, if you so choose.” Before he was finished speaking, Jim had already begun making his leave. While still in earshot, Jim overheard their conversation. The preacher began:

“What exactly was that man talking about?”

“Don’t know, it’s probable he was delirious. Sounded like a mad man,” the cop suggested.

“The end of the world…” the businessman pondered, “if only we could know whether there’s any truth to what he said.”

There was a small break in the conversation as they mentally reviewed their situation. Jim, against his better judgement, found himself standing in the doorway to his office; with his back to the guests, he couldn’t help but keep listening. He wasn’t sure why, and certainly wasn’t looking to interject, but his curiosity had gotten the better of him.

Ed made a series of inarticulate noises which could have signaled either distress or confusion, Jim wasn’t sure; he thought he may have heard the words “watermelon” and “parakeet.”

After disappearing for a moment, Jim arrived back in the company and forcibly put his hand on the table. When he lifted it, a USB drive remained.

“If I heard correctly, that might be of service,” he said before, once again, walking away. This time, though, he took a seat behind the bar. This, he thought, might be worth watching.

The five guests looked at the drive in awe, each of their minds racing with the possibilities of what it might hold. Sam eased their tension by opening his laptop and inserting the drive. After a warm-up chime, the computer screen filled up with a video of their late visitor, looking in much better condition than when he arrived.

“If you’re watching this,” the recording said, completely oblivious of the level of cliché in his speech, “it means I’m already dead.”

Kate and Sam some jaw dropping at this line, to which Mike gave them a raised eyebrow, as if to ask ‘really, what did you expect?’ The video continued:

“I knew they were after me, but I thought I could escape them. Foolish, I know. Once they discovered I was coming clean to the world, telling the people of the world what they should have been told long ago, there was no way they’d let me live.”

“Who are —” Mark began asking, before Kate cut him off with a sharp “Shh!”

“I’m sure you’re wondering who ‘they’ are,” the man on the screen suggested, “if only it could be explained that easily. I had hoped to get this into the hands of someone who wouldn’t need an explanation; unfortunately, such a person doesn’t exist. Anyone who does know is already one of them.” He paused for dramatic effect. “Until my recent ‘retirement,’ I was a member of a… an organization. I use the term ‘organization’ loosely. I was not high ranking, as rank does not exist within this group. There is no headquarters, no list of members, no documents of any kind. There is not even a name, as names are reserved for university clubs and old men’s fraternities. We are who the Bilderberg Conference, the Illuminati, and so many others desperately want to be. We… this organization… is what every urban legend strives to be, though no legends exist about it. In all likelihood, you are the first person or persons to ever learn of its existence without undergoing initiation.”

At this point, the company in the bar was completely wrapped in suspense. The man had recorded this post-mortem message with a pause to accommodate this reaction.

“The video I’m about to show you was taken during my last attendance at one of the meetings.” At the point, the video switched from the shot of the man to a hidden camera, roughly from his perspective. He was sitting at a long table in a dark room; the faces of the other members were barely visible. The commentary continued, “I took this video as proof. The world needed to know what was going on.” The camera began panning and zooming to get a clear picture of the faces at the table. The camera revealed a mixture of unknown faces and world leaders, anywhere from Latin America to the Middle East to the USA.

“Dear God,” Kate gasped, “most of these guys have thrown around more immature name calling at the UN than a 3rd grade playground. What are they doing together at a secret society?”

“More importantly,” Mark added, “why is Morrissey there?” It was a question they would never have a satisfactory answer for. The video continued:

“You may think this is the part where I tell you these people are involved in a plot for world domination. But don’t be naïve — these people already control the world. They have for the past century at least, though I don’t know for sure how long. Could be longer. No one knows their origin anymore, save the sole remaining founding member. What I do know is that every major war, assassination, every peace treaty, even cultural shifts — this group has orchestrated all of it.”

Jim looked at his guests, wishing he could see their faces. He couldn’t though, as their bodies remained motionless; their eyes were captured by the computer screen. At this point, one of the figures on the screen, a man they all recognized as a prominent African president, pointed at the camera. His fierce eyes seemed to be staring straight into the company in the bar. It frightened all of them, Mike less noticeably.

In reality, of course, he was pointing his malicious finger at their recently deceased visitor, who was understandably much more frightened than the six of them sitting in the bar. The camera jolted up and made its way to the darkness. When the image returned, it was back to the original shot of their visitor.

“I didn’t create this message to tell the world that they’re being controlled by this small organization. Most of the people in the world can live their happy lives regardless of who’s pulling the strings. No, I came to tell you what they wouldn’t. As you might imagine, controlling the world requires a great deal of observation and manipulation. The organization keeps careful tabs such things as world economy, environmental concerns, and political issues. Tonight, it got out of control.”

Almost knowingly, a crack of thunder resounded as lightning momentarily lit up the bar, reminding the company of the storm going on just outside their window.

“We now face what might be described as a perfect storm,” their informant continued. “The organization, while keeping the world afloat, has caused more problems than they’ve stopped; they’re motivated first and foremost by greed. Eventually, greed gets everyone in over their heads, even the organization.”

The man spoke quicker now, taking fewer breaths between statements.

“I don’t have much time left. I need to get moving if I want this message to be heard. I’ve uploaded documents to this drive giving more details, but here’s what you need to know: the world, as we know it, will soon be over. That much is for certain. It has already begun and cannot be stopped. There are four primary causes to this, though I’m sure they will start a domino effect, toppling over any of the other infrastructures ripe for falling.

“The factors are as follows: the imminent depletion of fossil fuels, a forthcoming plague worse than anything the world has seen, a world-wide electrical failure, and an oncoming nuclear war. These sort of things are normally regulated by the organization, but they’ve gotten out of hand. I’m telling you this, not so you can try to stop it, but so you can save humanity. This is what you must do —”

The screen went black.

“I… I think the battery’s dead.” Sam whimpered.

“Well,” Mike said, “pretty soon, it may not be alone in that.”

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PreApocalyptic – Chapter 1 (a strange new visiter)

Author’s Note:

All right, and thus ends my one month without finishing any writing (started a few though). Hopefully it won’t happen again… seems I’ve sufficiently exorcised the demons blocking my creativity (for now at least. They tend to come back without warning, so fingers crossed).

Oh, and any similarity to real people is completely coincidental. Except for Ed. I never got his name, but he’s definitely real.

——————————————–

Jim stared out across the room, watching the mixture of rain and hail attack the pavement outside. It was late, the sun was down, and with the heaviness of this particular storm any light from street lamps or windows was mostly obscured as well. Three feet ahead of the window, Jim saw chaos. Anything beyond that existed only in darkness.

“Crud,” a man in a suit said as he swiveled on the barstool, “looks like I won’t be getting home anytime today.” He leaned forward on the bar and continued, “well, while we’re stuck here, give me another beer, will ya Jimmy?”

“Comin’ up,” Jim replied as he fetched a fresh bottle. “How’s the office been today, Sam?”

“Eh, you know. Nothing exciting,” he yawned. “Got some trouble getting my foot in the door right now, but things will bounce back… honestly, I’d rather not think about work right now.”

Jim nodded and moved on. His eyes scanned across those few remaining customers not foolish enough to leave during the storm or wise enough to leave before it shifted into full force. Three of the “usual suspects” remained in the bar — Sam, the aforementioned businessman, a cop named Mike, and a perpetual drunk, supposedly named Ed, though no one really knew much about him for sure on account of his general incoherence. Jim also spotted a man and a woman sitting at a table together, both late thirties or early forties. Presumably they might be a couple, but Jim couldn’t yet say for sure.

He grabbed a wet rag and began cleaning his way over in their direction until he stood within eavesdropping range. At that point, he began meticulously cleaning each table in their vicinity. It was, after all, a very slow night.

“This is crazy!” the woman laughed, “You’ve changed so much. Out of everyone we knew, I never would have pegged you, Mark, as a preacher! Of all things!”

The man, Mark, returned the polite laughs, “well, Kate, you haven’t changed one bit, and I always expected you to end up a politician!”

The two old friends continued chatting, and Jim learned a few things before he stopped paying attention. He learned that the preacher and the politician had gone to college together, except back then they were a lawyer and an actress. They ran into each other by accident recently when Kate entered Mark’s church one Sunday morning, although Jim was fairly certain it was not accidental as she seemed to be looking for an endorsement. At that point, he had gleaned enough information to satisfy his admittedly low curiosity — politics was an issue which interested Jim even less than the earlier pleasantries. Besides, the tables certainly would not clean themselves.

Jim decided that this storm wouldn’t be letting up anytime that night; it was time to take a break from his cleaning. He dropped the towel down on the last table and headed over to speak with the cop, complimentary coffee in hand.

“Thanks,” Mike said as he accepted the gift. “You about ready to kick these people off the premises? I believe it’s just about closing time. At that point, it’s trespassing to stay, and that’s a crime…”

Jim gave a weak laugh, “well, I could do that, but with this storm we’ve got, they probably wouldn’t get more than a few feet beyond the door.”

“We can get ’em for that too: loitering.”

“Good call. But I think we’ll let it slide, officer — this time,” Jim said with a wink.

“If you say so,” he replied as he sipped his coffee, “it’s your building.” Mike picked up the day’s newspaper and began thumbing through it while Jim picked up his mop. In place of cleaning the floors with such a device, as might be expected, Jim folded his hands together on top of the mop to use it as a support pole. Jim once again took a moment to look out the window and appreciate the ironic tranquility of the storm. Despite the destructive nature of such a force — the pounding of the rain and the piercing of the hail, the power of lightning and the roar of thunder — the only thought to go through Jim’s mind at such a time was the strong desire to curl up and take a nap. During a time of such intense chaos, Jim felt oddly at ease. He appreciated the irony.

His musing, however, was soon cut off by a cry from the other corner of the room.

“Hey Jimmy!” Sam called, “How do you get this TV working?”

Jim hesitated a moment, then turned and headed over to troubleshoot the machine, where the businessman, drunk, preacher, and senator sat. After a few moments of his fiddling with the cables in the back and adjusting the antennae, the static and white noise gave way to the local weather report.

“As you can see,” the weatherman said as he exaggerated arm gestures, “we have this storm on top of us. Now, it’s moving pretty quickly so it’ll pass soon, but don’t leave your houses just yet. We’ve got what appears to be a second wind coming in close after, and this one seems to be even bigger. We suggest you stay in your houses, as this seems to only be the beginning.”

The on-screen map zoomed out to reveal a swirling purple spot which easily dwarfed the city. The five guests and the bartender gave their complete attention to the on-goings of the television screen. Ed gave less attention than the rest of them, although proportionately he in fact gave more as he gave all he could given his current level of sobriety, or lack thereof.

Their attention broke off abruptly as the screen flickered away. The guests’ eyes veered over towards Jim, as if to ask him to fix it yet again. Before he could respond though, a pound of thunder shook the building and the lights went out. After a moment of silence, Ed spoke up:

“The purple hell… it’s coming for us!”

Not knowing exactly how to respond to this, Jim did the only sensible thing he could and spoke up. “Nobody panic, I’ll get some lights,” he said as he tripped over chairs and bruised himself on table corners. Eventually, he came back with a kerosene lantern and a few candles. “Not great, but it’ll do. We’ve got some light, we can wait out —”

“Jim!” Mike called from behind his newspaper. “I think we’ve got someone at the door!”

Picking up the kerosene lantern, Jim once again walked across the room. “Hold on, I’m coming!” As he walked, the pounding at the door grew heavier and heavier, as if the person on the other side grew more and more desperate. Not too farfetched a theory, considering the storm this person was stuck in.

As Jim threw the doors open, the man nearly fell in. With his arms holding his stomach and his back arched, he hunched a few steps into the room. The man, gasping for air, mostly mumbled inaudibly. After a few moments though, more definable words came out:

“… madness. Won’t stop… or no. It will. All of it… Everything. Everything will stop… they said it wouldn’t happen, but it is… it’s a perfect storm…”

“Well, I wouldn’t call this evening perfect,” Mike chimed in, “’course, I wasn’t really planning on going home, so —” at this point, the strange man lifted his arms from his stomach to reveal profuse bleeding, which proceeded to spill out onto the floor. He raised his head and looked them each in the eyes with a now profound sense of desperation. The group partook in an appropriate moment of stunned silence.

“Disease, war, famine… this is only the beginning. Or the end… it’s happening.” Urgently and with trembling, the man dug into his coat pocket and protruded a small USB drive. “This… will explain everything.”

“Wait,” Mark asked, “just what are you talking about?”

“Haven’t you been listening to anything I’ve said?” the man asked with a gallows chuckle, “Don’t you see? Tonight beckons the end of the world.”

And, with another flash of lightning and crack of thunder, their strange new visitor collapsed to the ground.

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