Grave

October 25th.

I know what’s going to happen. I wish I didn’t. But, I do. I didn’t believe it at first. It was just a dream I thought. Like scrooge discounting Marley as ‘an undigested piece of meat, a blot of mustard, a crumb of cheese, a fragment of an underdone potato.’ But just as the old man skirted about, grasping the arm of past, present, and future, realizing the apparitions were not gravy, but indeed grave and much like Ebenezer, I am the only one seeing the dark inevitability.

I’ve written in a ledger of sorts nearly every day, every line, every page, front and back. My mother thought it would be helpful. Helpful for me in dealing with what happened. Hundreds of ledgers and notebooks ago. Long ago when I died. Well. That’s what the doctors said. I think I was too young to realize what happened. I honestly don’t remember falling out of the boat in the first place. I don’t remember our neighbor, Steve or John, giving me CPR. I don’t remember the four weeks in ICU.

I do remember not understanding why I had to stay at the hospital or why it was so important for me not to go swimming again. I remember my brothers and sisters jumping into the lake while I sat on the dock, pencil, and book in hand. Giving a brief description of my day, the happenings, funny stories and everything around me. As an adult, my entries have grown to be only occasionally and less than brief descriptions of work, food, traffic, my annoying neighbors and the wild-haired landlord with a million cats. But something happened last night and I need to write.

It’s Friday. So…I don’t know how else to say this but all of the insects died today. All of them. Every single insect in the entire world rolled on its back and assumed the international sign of death. I sat at the kitchen table scrolling through my phone trying to make sense of what happened and to a slight offset considering what I knew was coming. The news coverage is oddly vague with what is going on. Not necessarily the coverage but what’s going to happen. Not the evaporation of insects but what’s going to happen to us. I don’t think they know.

My boss sent us home early for the weekend. Instead of the general euphoria associated with an early Friday, almost everyone wore a grave face of mild concern and tepid hope. Not a single ‘have a good weekend’ or ‘see ya Monday’. It was weird.

When I got home I couldn’t eat. How could I while experts spoke to us in calming tones of the impossible natural phenomenon, their faces unable to hide their concern but instead were quick to distract us with this year's blockbuster or what movie star was doing to another. I left my dinner in the sink. It’s almost midnight and I’m going to try and get some sleep. I only hope I don’t have the dream again.

October 26th

Today is Saturday. It’s bright and sunny with small tufts of clouds sitting idle. I had two bananas and coffee. I’ll just say it. Today was the bird's turn. Finch, sparrow, robin, seagull, flamingo, eagle. The television and every social media shown millions if not billions of birds littering the streets, fields, rooftops, lolling and rolling in the surf, being stuffed into red biohazard bags. Scooped up with shovels like coal and tossed onto raging fires.

I didn’t go to the grocery store. I should have plenty of food, but does it matter? I don’t want to leave my apartment. Maybe I should have.

I returned from the laundry room after taking too long in convincing myself to. A lot of the residents were talking rather than shoving quarters in the washers and dryers. Especially Mr. Hendrix who is normally quiet and subdued. Mrs. Clover who has always been our complex’s steadfast rock and go-to for any of our problems stood silently without any guiding or supportive advice. Instead, she stood, folding the same shirt over and over. Several of them had proposed a trip to the country. 'Get away from the city' they said. Even though the closest city is 90 miles away.

I am noticing a distinct change in people. A distinct change in everything. Besides the growing smell of death, something else is lingering. Metallic, cold and hot at the same time. Clean. Odd. Like nervous sweat. Bitter and not. It’s on everyone’s faces. A concern with a growing amount of consideration.

I finished my laundry and put my clothes away. I forced myself to eat a frozen pizza. But the pictures of the birds, everywhere, birds you don’t expect to see in mass graves, a macabre scene all over the world halted any bit of hunger. It’s an amazing conflict of expectations and reality. Kind of like drinking orange juice out of a coffee cup. It’s late. I’m going to bed. Hopefully no dreams like the one I had a couple of days ago.

October 27th

It’s Sunday. I am still in bed. I don’t want to look at my phone or turn on the T.V. I’m going to eat some breakfast and will write later tonight. I didn’t have the dream last night. I don’t think I’m ready to write down what the dream was about. Not yet.

Well. It’s about noon and some unusual things are happening. Mr. Hendrix and Mrs. Clover’s cars are packed to the gills and it wasn’t much later I noticed the majority of the complex’s inhabitants followed suit. I am going to turn on the TV.

Here we go…The oceans died today. Well, everything that called water home, died. Oceans. Lakes. Rivers. Streams. Fish and porpoise. Whale and shark joined the toxic death soup lapping along the shore. More reporters with handkerchiefs over their mouths. Wide-eyed newscasters with unconvincing smiles.

I think people are officially losing their shit and definitively choosing to be on one side of the line or the other. Not that I am losing my shit, but I am starting to consider the message with a little more severity.

I called my sister and brothers about half an hour ago and they are going to the family cabin. I told them I would meet them. I couldn’t tell them the truth. I should have gone to the store. I’m almost out of food. The entire apartment complex is dark and quiet as if the power is out. I checked it. More than once but still am going to keep the lights off just in case. I don’t feel safe. I am going to bed and will write more tomorrow. Tomorrow I’ll write the message. The dream.

October 28th

Monday. I am not going to work. To be honest I am not going anywhere. Not after what I saw on television last night. I couldn’t sleep. I know I shouldn’t have but I turned on the news.

Panic is finally setting in. Cities are being vacated unsuccessfully. Small rural towns like my own are creating barricades to keep the evacuees out but it isn’t a surprise to me as no matter where you live, people are leaving the big screen TVs and instead overrunning any place with food and water. One reporter stood in front of a grocery store gap jawed as people shot each other coming in and going out of the store. On another channel, a news camera panned across a parking lot strewn with dead bodies, a small child walling next to either its mother or father, a rusty pick up running over anyone who happened to be in its path, including the child. Hell. Hell, on earth is all I can say. That’s why I’ve locked myself in here. I don’t want to see it, smell it, taste it. All I can think of to write anymore is we have two more days and I am beginning to solidly believe I am the only one who knows.

I should mention what sparked the insanity. All of the animals died. Every animal you can think of. From mountain gorillas to household pets. Dead. All of them. And the unusual thing is they did it conspicuously. As if they looked for appropriate gathering space to lay down together and…die. It reminded me of the nut job who killed all those people with the arsenic Kool-Aid. Nearly neat and tidy rows of bodies. Lined in otherwise symmetry. Someone is knocking at my door.

The person wasn’t knocking but banging. With enough force, I imagined hands bloody and bruised. It was a woman. Her voice raw and scratched, pleading for me to let her in. I didn’t. I couldn’t. She begged in between deep sobs. She must have sat at my door for 30 minutes before I heard male voices and the quick scurry of her feet. I barricaded my door with the couch I got from my parent's estate sale. I’m going to try and sleep. I almost forgot. The dream.

Four days ago. I woke from not being asleep. That’s the best I can explain it. I was neither asleep nor awake but coherent to my surroundings and the message. It reminded me of something I’ve never shared with anyone until now. I had a late-night connecting flight from Chicago to Grand Rapids in one of those narrow puddle jumper turboprops. It was intensely brief but for a moment I felt as if I was not in a plane flying hundreds of miles per hour at 30,000 feet but as if I were sitting at the kitchen table like I am now. The sensation of movement had evaporated leaving a stillness I’ve never felt before, until, four days ago. I stood in a void of white light. Feeling neither weight nor pressure upon any surface of my body. I stood but didn’t. I breathed but didn’t. I was and was not at the same moment.

The message was simple, heavy, leaden, dense but delicate like a butterfly wing. It is so difficult to describe. The closest thing I can think of is the small moment in a swing just as the direction is changing. Feeling the weight briefly evaporate then resurfacing with intensity. ‘Humanity ends in seven days.’ Words unspoken but somehow heard. The voice was calm, clear, comforting, penetrating.

I’ll write more tomorrow. I’m going to bed in my bathroom just in case someone breaks in so I can escape through the window.

October 29th

Today is Tuesday. The power is out. There’s no water coming from the faucets. I don’t have anything to eat except a can of refried beans and some salsa. I sat and looked at it for 15 minutes before eating it. I can hear gunshots outside but no sirens. My phone is nearly dead. I’m thinking I should try to find some food and water. I’ll write more when I get back. If I get back.

I found the woman who had been beating on my door. I covered her with a sheet that was snagged on a bush. Animals and birds are everywhere. I threw up too many times to count. I’m going to eat and drink what I found.

I’m feeling better now that I’ve eaten and drank half of my water haul. I was surprised at how many people were out and in similar situations as myself. Their arms full of bottled water, cans, candy bars, and whatever was left. I saw a man who gave me a casual nod if we were passing each other at a sporting event. Getting our snacks at half time and returning to our seats. Except instead of a tray of nachos and solo cup of beer he had three bottles of Jack Daniels and two-liter bottles of Diet Coke.

I’m beginning to consider something. Do we deserve what’s coming? Is it not a surprise this is happening? I’m not surprised because people suck. We suck. No one gives a shit about anyone other than themselves. We are more inclined to respond instantly to the dings and pings of our phone rather than interact with another human being. We are like Pavlov’s dog. Instead of salivating for a brief flash of meat powder it’s the luminous glow of a viral video, Facebook post or rambling nonsensical message from Twitter or Snapchat.

And here we are in the middle of some terrible shit our first inclination is to grab whatever we can without paying for it? Take advantage of the flesh of another and leave her dead in the street? Roll over each other without discrimination to man, woman or child? Kill each other for what the other has only to be surprised when someone else does the same to you. Karma is a bitch and we have pissed her off.

Oh…. All the plants died today. I don’t care to elaborate except there isn’t a green thing anywhere. I’m going to sleep. Tomorrow is the last day. Better get my rest.

October 30

It’s Wednesday. I woke up with a heaviness in my chest. Not an uncomfortable pressure but it feels as though I’m being pulled from the center of it. Like a fist full of shirt pulling me. Pulling me outside. I’m going to eat the cans of soup and candy bars I found yesterday.

Something is going on I can’t explain. I know it sounds ridiculous seeing how everything is dead outside as if that’s not strange anymore. Well. To a certain degree, I think I’ve gotten used to it so now it is my new normal. Until tomorrow I suppose. The strange this is there is a low hum mirrored with another nearly imperceptible tone not outside or inside but everywhere. It is quite pleasant and when I focus on it the feeling in my chest increases sending goose flesh across my extremities. It is decidedly pleasurable. I think I’m going to go outside and see. Hopefully, I’ll be back to write some more. Holy shit. I’ve never seen a sky like that before. Brilliant. Blue. Clear. Nearly overwhelming. I couldn’t take my eyes off it even though there wasn’t anything to see. Everyone who had ventured out stood staring upwards. I wonder if they felt and heard the same as me? I found Jack Daniels man and cast a quick nod which was returned with a smile and a flick of his hat. I moved the couch and am going to leave the door open. I need the door open to hear the sound better I think.

It’s nearly 10 o'clock. I realize what’s happening now. It took me a while to figure it out. Not the message but the message itself. I know that sounds ridiculous but everything has been a global sucker punch. The world's greatest prank. Give everyone the biggest pile of shit with no signs of ever getting better, leaving us in a position of hopelessness, then give us a hint, a brief interlude that maybe, just maybe it’ll be ok. Then. Bang. We’re all fucked.

Today was a wonderful day. Like the last day of school. Two lovers' first kiss. A mother's hug after a long departure.

Some of us rigged a couple of BBQs together found a bag of charcoal and cooked some thawed hamburgers while a few others began burying the dead animals, and several sang a couple of Familiar Hymns. It felt normal. Normal within the abnormal. But now the day is nearly over and I know what’s going to happen tomorrow and I don’t know of anything else to do but pray. Pray for forgiveness ruining the earth and not realizing how fragile life is and how we’ve become so inconsiderately blind to everything. I’m going to pray to them all. God. The Universe. Allah. Buddha. Jesus. I’m going to pray to anyone who’ll listen. I know what’s going to happen tomorrow. I wish I didn’t. But I do. And I pray it doesn’t.