She walked in on her brother masturbating. His only acknowledgement was the glance he paid her over his shoulder. "I'm gonna go watch it, you want to come?" She took stock of the basement — bare concrete walls, cobwebs in the corner, sunlight slanting gloomily through the window.

  "I'm busy" he muttered, not bothering to turn around from the computer screen. She leaned against the open doorway and crossed her arms, grimacing at the moaning that emanated from the computer.

  "You know, you could probably get a real girl, given the circumstances." Her brother seemed to collapse into himself at her words. He turned around slowly, looking over his seat, tears silently streaming down his face.

  "Who would I call?"

  She shook her head in disbelief. "Literally anyone."

  Her brother turned back to face the screen. "I can't..." he murmured.

  "What?"

  "I can't go with you, I'm busy."

  She ran her tongue across her teeth and tapped the door frame impatiently.

  "Fine." She said over her shoulder, already heading for the stairs. She grabbed her backpack, stuffed it with everything she would need, grabbed her bike and started - picking through the small pile of bottles and trash in the living room.

  Bikes were expressly not allowed in the house, but the last time she checked on her parents they were lying half naked in their bedroom among wine bottles, sleeping pills strewn across the nightstand. They weren't dead, but they weren't exactly lively either.

  They weren't the best parents, but they certainly weren't the worst. In the end, she reminded herself, they were what everyone was — human.

  As she manhandled her bike out the front door the pedal left a large gouge in the wall. She stopped, stared at the gouge. Rage hit her. She started kicking the wall with her boots and pummeling it with her fists. Drywall and insulation rained down. and then, the rage left her. She stood still, fists clenched so hard her bruised knuckles were white. Fucking walls.

  Once she had the bike outside, she locked the door behind her, slung her backpack on her back, and started riding. She had almost taken the car— she was only fifteen, but it wasn't like that mattered anymore. She chose the bike for two reasons: first, the pretty blonde news anchor had said this morning that many people were attempting suicide by car. Even two miles out she could hear cars crashing. Second, once the cars crashed, no one cared enough to move them. Most roads were useless.

  Her neighborhood was dead. No car moved, no birds chirped, no people walked. If she hadn't known better, it would have seemed peaceful, but she knew better.

  She was almost at the end of the street when she saw the Pearson's house. She almost fell off her bike laughing. There were several expensive cars in the driveway, all torn to shreds — windows bashed, tires slashed— and none of them Mr. Pearson's. The rumors of Mrs. Pearson's indulgences were truer than the women of the PTA had any way of knowing. As she got closer, she noticed something red staining the curtains in the dining room and decided not to look.

  She left her neighborhood and rounded the curb leading to the small downtown and saw the local drugstore. Its parking lot was packed, cars like filings around a magnet. Each car was a miniature mausoleum.

  When the big news broke, the medical boards decided to amend the Hippocratic Oath to "do less harm". Numbers don't matter when everyone dies tomorrow anyway.

  And assist they did, until the drugs ran out. They swarmed pharmacies, doctors' offices, hospitals — and left behind empty bottles, empty bodies, and empty cars.

  Her stomach lurched, but she didn't think she had anything left to throw up and didn't stop pedaling to find out.

  Downtown was as deserted as her neighborhood. She pulled into the middle of main street and climbed off her bike. She turned, taking in each of the buildings that had made up the background of her life for 15 years— until the shattering of glass broke the silence.

  She turned. A man in a ratty brown coat had broken the window on the electronics shop and was trying to lift a massive TV. She frowned.

  "What are you doing?" The man whipped around. A steak knife appeared in his hand. He faltered when he saw the 15-year-old girl confronting him.

  "I'm...I'm taking this TV" he said thrusting his knife dramatically "and you can't stop me."

  She raised an eyebrow "Why are you taking it?"

  He gave her a ponderous look, "Well...I've always wanted one, and by God I'm going to get it if it's the last thing I do."

  "But what will you do with it?" she asked

  "Watch it of course." His brow furrowed deeper.

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  "But it's the end of the world!" she said.

  He broke into a grin "Exactly!"

  When she didn't answer, he went back to the television. "You know," he called out "You shouldn't be wandering around by yourself, there are some messed up people out here."

  The whoop of a police siren was his only answer. An old Crown Vic rounded the corner, lights flashing. The man dropped the TV. "Oh shit, the cops!" He took off down the alley.

  The cop started to follow but saw the girl standing in the middle of the road. He turned off his lights and pulled up alongside her. She grimaced at her reflection in his aviators as he rolled down the window.

  He looked her up and down "You don't go anywhere, I've got to call this in." He reached for his radio. "This is officer McNally, I've got an attempted four-eighty-four at the electronics store on main and 5th, copy?" After ten seconds of silence he added "...Hello?"

  "Hello? McNally? Is that you?"

  "This is officer McNally I'd like to report a-"

  "Now you hold it McNally, didn't you get the memo? You get today off. Go home. The police force was disbanded this morning, you were there."

  The cop glanced over at her. "But sir, I've got a witness"

  "Why? Let them go, God knows they have better things to do. I'm telling you this not only as your boss but as your friend, I know you have family, and you need to be with them now."

  McNally sat in silence then brought the radio to his mouth. "Ten-four over and out." He slouched forward until his forehead rested on the steering wheel. He rolled his head to the side so he could see her.

  "You're free to go," he said, "but be careful there are all sorts of bad people out there."

  She nodded "The guy breaking into the shop told me the same thing, but its ok, I've got a gun."

  McNally sat up straight. "Where'd you get a gun? ...You know what" He laughed, no mirth in it. "I was about to say 'Don't do anything stupid, but," he looked up at the sky "At this point, I don't think stupid has the same definition it used to" he rested his head back on the steering wheel and gestured absent mindedly "Go."

  "Have a nice day," she said as she pedaled off, but he didn't answer.

  As she made her way through town, she saw a large plume of smoke in the distance. She pedaled toward it. A large glass office building at the edge of town was engulfed in flames. A group of middle-aged men in suits danced and fed the fire. She didn't know why they lit it, probably because they could. She gave them a wide berth, pedaling on toward the mountain.

  The fastest way to the mountain was through the Abner's property. It was not uncommon for people to head up the dirt road that separated the grazing cattle from the Abner family's vegetable garden. The road passed through downtown and wove through the farmland like a snake before climbing the hills at the valley's edge.

  Some people liked the hills. They reckoned it a cradle that swaddled them. She thought of the Berlin wall. An obstruction smothering the sun.

  She was about halfway up on the dirt road when the shot rang out. The dirt leapt in front of her and she lost control. The handlebars pitched and threw her to the ground.

  Her heart pounded, and her lungs gasped large painful gusts of dust coated air. A shadowy figure stepped out from behind the barn door with a gun sighted in on her head.

  "I'm gonna tell you the same as I told the rest, we ain’t got no more room so it don't matter how much gold, money, or whatever else you got, no is no."

  The girl lay there on her side staring at the man as the tension built.

  "Wait..." she said raising her hands and slowly pulling herself to sitting "What the hell are you talking about?"

  The man scowled.

  "You know as well as I do that that rat, Sanders, has been telling everyone from here to kingdom come about our bunker. Whatever you are selling we ain't buying, we got enough food for us, and ours, but none for no one else."

  She looked him up and down, but all she saw was sincerity. She started laughing, a full-blown, gut busting laugh. The man was caught off guard. He lowered his gun slightly before catching himself and raising it back up. "wha-what’s so funny?" he growled.

  "You...." she gasped. " Haven’t you heard? There...isn't going to be a tomorrow, we are all going to die."

  The man grunted and spat. "The world will end when the Good Lord says it will, and not a day before. As of yet he's been quiet on the matter.”

  She grinned “Looking like he said 'today', considering there won't be a tomorrow."

  He motioned with his gun "Now here's how it's gonna be. Yer gonna get back on your bike and pedal back the way you came keeping both yer hands on the handlebars, and so help me God if you come back here, I'll put a slug right between your eyes."

  She held eye contact as she picked up the bike and mounted it only breaking once she started pedaling. As she neared the property line, she looked over her shoulder at the man, raised her middle finger and yelled "You made me skin my knee, you hillbilly bastard!"

  He fired his rifle into the air. She'd have to take the long way around.

  Even in low gear she had to huff and puff as she biked up the mountain. The official road, while paved, was much steeper than the dirt. She was about halfway up when she saw an old white-haired man on his knees in a garden.

  She let the bike coast to a stop, dismounted, and took a draught of water. He was facing away from her. As she watched, he stood up and stretched. As he did trunk twists, he caught sight of her standing next to her bike. He turned and raised a hand. "Hello there!"

  She did a quick double take before answering "H-hello".

  "And how are you today?"

  "Good" she said, "...I mean all things considered."

  "All things considered..." he agreed, nodding, a slow smile crinkling his eyes.

  "What are you doing?" she asked, his dirt covered pants and gloves had raised her curiosity.

  "I'm weeding my garden." He motioned to the patch of vegetables around him.

  She searched his face for sarcasm. Just sincerity. "But...why?"

  "If you don't weed, the vegetables get overrun and won't grow." He got back on his knees and worked on a row of carrots.

  "Haven't you heard about the ....?" She motioned vaguely at the sky, unable to say it.

  The old man looked up " Hmm? ... Oh my, yes."

  She wasn't sure what to make of him. "I have a gun." She didn't know why she said it, but it felt right.

  The old man looked up from his vegetables, "Whatever for?"

  "I...don't.... know" she really didn't "I guess for protection."

  The old man nodded "Things have been crazy lately."

  She snorted "Understatement of the...forever"

  "So, what brings you to my humble abode, on this of all days?" he asked.

  "Sorry if I'm intruding, I was just going up the mountain— figured I'd get a good seat for.... the event".

  The man glanced at the sky "Well that's one way to go I suppose, but if I had to guess you're a few hours early."

  She grinned wryly "I wanted to beat the rush"

  It was his turn to suppress a laugh. He bent back over the vegetables and wiped his brow. She looked up and down the deserted road that led to the peak. She shifted her weight from foot to foot and bit her lip. "Need any help Mr....?"

  He smiled "Jack. Just Jack"

  She smiled and held out her hand "Jill."