Molly (1/10)

Chapter 20

A dull light blinked in the corner of that darkened room.

Marin tapped on the table, then began to type on the keyboard, invisible to the eye, forcing Marin to use his memory as to where each key was.

As he continued to type, his vision blurred, and he was placed somewhere else:

We can hear them now. For a long time we just believed what the screens were telling us: that the situation was under control. We saw the tanks roll into the city and figured that was the end of it. But then the reports stopped coming in.

Marin leaned back and placed a hand on his face, staring at that white glow.

I was just like everyone else. It was just a small mishap--there was no way they'd abandon us. Then, the message: stay inside indefinitely, or the worse might happen. And we knew. We knew because we could hear the screams outside. We were just so scared.

He could hear footsteps. This was an anomaly in and of itself.

Marin closed his eyes, trembling, then returned to the screen:

If it's like this everywhere, then there is no going back. The world will be completely different from the one we knew. If we are not ready to meet the task at hand, to get serious, then I don't think there's any way we'll survive.

"But maybe that's fine," Marin whispered, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his forehead.

Three sets of knocks, in quick succession: his neighbors', then Marin's.

Marin stared in horror.

"Get, the fuck out--now," croacked a voice so distorted Marin could barely make it out. "If you don't we'll blow the fucking doors open."

Marin ducked as he ran to the other side of his room. Not a long walk, admittedly; Marin's apartment was barely large enough to hold a single bed and desk. He rummaged through his belongings, grabbing a chip, his ORION sensor, and--thanking god when he found it--a gun; a pincer, made up in the heavens where gods toiled in their strange world of pale metal and light.

A snarl--an animal's snarl, Marin realized with increasing terror. He'd read and heard the rumors but he didn't want to believe them.

The doors boomed again. Marin shuddered.

He clicked the panel. At first, nothing, and Marin felt such a wave of dread pass over him he thought he'd faint, then a green light lit up and the door opened, a long, violent screech as the metal settled.

He was probably twice Marin's size, tilting his head down and staring with hollow glass-eyes, dark disks. There was another, armed with what looked to be a rifle; an older model, only using thermal needles, not the new-grade stuff they'd mined up on mars.

"Get out."

"I need to talk to the police."

"Shut up."

The man pointed down the hall.

Marin tried to seem downcast. The other one stepped to the side, a weird wheezing noise coming out of his gas mask. No person should breathe like that, Marin thought.

As he came downstairs dogs began shouting at him. Their eyes were very wide and it didn't seem like anyone was taking care of them. The men dressed in black stood around, waiting collectively. Like they were soldiers.

Marin wandered out, more out of sheer confusion than anything; no one had told him what to do or where to go. When he was outside, he stared in abject horror at the dead sky. Nothing could have prepared him for this moment. Marin realized that surely this was the actual end of the world, then wondered what that might mean.