denouement

The desert is silent, as if it too is holding its breath.

A whisper of the wind, the unknowing twitter of a cactus wren, cloaked in the darkness.

There is no panic. That was reserved for the days before, as they crept along like the reality that consumed our minds. Now, there is only an hour left. This is the time for reflection.

They called us doomsdayers, as we rattled along the highway in overloaded and dusty pickup trucks, as we bought as many cases of bottled water as we could carry. They said that we were stupid, that it isn’t real. It’s just time passing, they said, that time will continue on forever.

But lying on our backs, pebbles digging into our skin, we stare at the inky sky, knowing this isn’t true.

Hopefully it will be painless, as time unravels itself and our bodies. That we will drift away, not be jolted as every atom rearranges and then desintegrates.

We are a family, some of us related by blood, others not. But there’s a reason we drove for eight hours. We wanted to die together.

Unfathomable philosophical thoughts morph into casual ponderings, in this numb time of in-between.

‘I wonder if there is a heaven...’

‘Do you think we have souls?’

‘Do I even exist?’

We find comfort in them, their current lack of meaning.

There’s so little time left. There are confessions. Of family secrets, of loves told too late. We’re about to lose everything. We want to lose as much of it as we can on our own terms.

The hastily bought ‘survival gear’ will mean nothing, but at least we tried. Tried to save ourselves, tricked ourselves into denying the inevitable.

Ten seconds left. We wish there were more, but we need to stop running. To welcome the end.

10.

9.

8.

7.

6.

5.

4.

3.

2.

And then...

1.

We are all still here.

Somehow being spared is more bitter than succumbing to the instability of the minutes, seconds, hours, ticking into infinity.

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