District

You Have Lived

Out of all the things that could have happened on Friday the 13th, the apocalypse came. The Doomsday Clock people had watched with dread had finally stopped at midnight. The world was finally coming to an end. 

Some say that accidents are 52% more likely to happen on a Friday the 13th, and although this has been proved to be false, you could say fate wasn't in the hands of the people on Earth that day. 

In Freya Caderyn's case, the accident did indeed happen on Friday the 13th. It was like any other day, with the California heat baking on her back as she sat in traffic for the 12th time today.

"For fuck's sake."

The car in front of her had almost stopped entirely, and she had almost rammed directly into the bumper. At this moment, Freya had realized she was going to be either late for work, or die here, in the blazing heat. It was almost ironic how right she was.

"Hey, Siri," Freya said, as her phone blinked to life beside her, and the AI gave a soft beep. "How far am I away from my destination?"

"It looks like your destination is 6 miles away." The robotic voice chirped.

She groaned and leaned into the wheel, trying to will the traffic jam to move further. What was the hold-up, you ask? Well, miles ahead of Freya's Subaru, a man was holding a sign that read, "Today is the end of the world. Don't believe what they tell you." Passerbys simply thought of this as an insane man's ruse, others didn't even pay attention to what he had to say.

At that time, police officers were trying to restrain him. This hadn't been his first time getting arrested, as he had protested this same thing several days in a row. 

Robert Patterson hadn't known what was coming, but he was definitely on a lot of meth. Some may think his drug abuse had given him a sense of enlightenment, but in reality, he was just in the right place at the right time. 

Back in Freya's red Subaru, the sun's rays were scorching more than usual. It wasn't unusual for the rising temperatures of the earth over the past fifty years, but the surrounding air was suffocating and humid, and one of the hottest days California had on record that year. A wonderful metaphor for human greed, or just pure luck, we'll never know.

As Freya was sweltering in the leather seats, Siri flickered to life. The familiar sound of the woman's calm voice began to speak, but her words were nothing but calming.

"Hello? If you're hearing this, it's the end. Don't let them kill you, please."

Freya's head snapped in the direction of the voice, a mask of confusion on her face. Was she going insane due to the heat, or did she hear what she thought? 

Thousands of people, young and old, received this message across the globe. The familiar ping of the mobile assistant, followed by the message of doom answered in thousands of languages, and humankind panicked. This was the first time humanity had all been afraid of the same thing: their destruction. Thousands of years of fighting amongst themselves, and they had all banded together in their final moments.

As Freya sat in the State Route 99 in California, hundreds of people were in distress. They shared the message on social media, all at once. The trolls were silent, all waiting on something to happen. For this all to be a dream or a collective hoax, which some people believed, but they all knew that deep down, it was time.

Freya, in this exact moment, was scrolling through her Twitter timeline. She was still in a state of shock, and her grey eyes that were reflected on the phone screen had started to blur. She had expected to wake up, right about now, late for work in her bed and have everything be normal. She wasn't ready to go yet -- she couldn't.

At once, by some desperate part of her, Freya texted her mother, which she assumed, would be the last time.

 I'm sorry. You couldn't approve of me then, and you never will. But I just wanted to tell you that I forgive you. If it is the end of the world, I won't hold a grudge.

She knew her mother wouldn't respond. But a part of her wished she would, so she could at least hear of her one more time before she went beyond. 

Humanity's fear had become a sullen, dull, giving up. Screams of panic had grown into acceptance. All they had to do was wait for the end.

So, Freya closed her eyes for the last time, even if she wasn't ready. She hoped that, somewhere out there, her mother had read her text. 

Hours later, when it had finally came, a wrecked red Subaru lay in a wreckage of flames, the phone inside cracked and stained with tears, had a singular message.

I love you.