Coronal Blast

Chapter 01:03

"You gonna hang out with me for a bit while the world is going crazy?"

"Do I get another shot if I say yes?"

"Coming right up, Bud."

We shared another drink, and some snide comments. The news guys did something unprecedented. Instead of repeating the same nonsense over and over, they actually broadcast a steady stream of reports. Car crashes, grocery store fights, and any related video from social media of people acting nuts. Store shelves emptying all over the country; all over the world. Make one announcement that the world is going to end, and not only do the lemmings believe it, they're willing to kill each other over a bag of rice.

"You think I still need to show up for my court date if the grid really does go down?"

"I don't know, bro," said the bartender. "I don't have any coming up for a while. Baby-momma will probably want me to come over tonight. Never fails, problems come, and she's up my ass. But she can hide my kid from me the rest of the year."

"Hey, when there's a hurricane, a bunch of people come up missing after the disaster. Just saying. Emergencies are a good time to make a bitch disappear." I smiled. I hadn't smiled since my ex-wife left.

"Don't tempt me."

Another beer, another batch of stories, I paid my tab and stood up.

"Headed out?"

"Yea, I need to get home. Prepare for this big emergency."

"By passing out on your couch again?"

"Probably."

"Alright Bud, be safe. I'll probably close up early tonight. I have a feeling we aren't going to be busy."

I walked toward the door, fixed on getting home and taking stock of the rest of the crap in my empty house. At least I wouldn't need to listen to Jill's complaining. She took off. She was gone. Once the divorce paperwork was finalized, I'd be able to get back on my feet. Married for three months. I thought about writing a book on it.

I pushed the door open and staggered outside. Still warm, even though the sun set hours ago. I lit a cigarette and glanced down the lane to see honking traffic backed up for at least a mile. From the bar, you could see all the way to the interstate, also covered in stationary headlights.

Out of the grid-lock scenery on the streats, a white Mustang roared through a neighboring parking lot. The rear end came loose, and the car skipped sideways into the entrance, stopping perfectly in a parking space beside my old Chevy Blazer.

Busy day. Struggling with divorce lawyers, people in panic mode about a burst of space dust, drinking. Then this chick decides to drop by while I'm on my way out. What next? My head turned back to the gridlock. I couldn't leave, even if I wanted to. It would take and hour to go three blocks.

"Where do you think you're going?" asked the vixen approaching from the white Mustang. My head cocked to the side, she wore a jet-black skin-tight spaghetti-strapped tank top over her leather miniskirt and knee-high boots. Her leggings were some kind of net pattern. I wondered if they were hose or stalkings. Those boots cracked heavy footprints against the damp asphalt as she walked, even from her anorexic frame. Her frizzy dreadlocks bounced above her pale skin. Black hair in dreadlocks. She could easily be the girl of my dreams, or the death of me, and I didn't know which.

"I was about to head home. Doesn't look like I'm gonna make it very far. What's your bad-ass up to?"

"World's going to shit, I'm about to get lit."