Sunburn Drive by Anastasia White

Sunburn Drive by Anastasia White

I felt Tom’s fist knock my teeth out before I even realized it. Some of the crowd spat on us, others threw empty beer cans, and the rest were too inebriated to react. I noticed the stinging rush first, then the hot burning that made my mouth salivate. It was sour and coppery. Tom hurled another fist at me, this time to the side of my face, and I saw stars. 

When I came to, most of the crowd had left already. There were a few stragglers who were slowly making their way out of the garage. One was a lanky fellow wearing a black and white striped shirt. He had a long blonde mullet that stuck to the back of his neck with sweat. He seemed too caught up stumbling over himself to notice me lying on the ground.

“C’mon Gene. You know you can’t keep doing this,” Suzy’s voice startled me from above.

Her arms were wrapped around her stomach. Her brown, pinned curls had flattened and her makeup was smeared, though I didn’t know if that’s how she meant for it to look. I tried to smile at her. It hurt. 

“What the fuck even happened?” she bent down. 

Suzy pulled a handkerchief from her back pocket. She wiped around my mouth, which had been smeared with blood. It hurt extra when she pressed it against my lips, let alone talk.

“Tom.”

“I get that, but why’d he hit you? Did you say something to him about the meteor?” Suzy said, and moved her hand to try and help me sit up.

“No, I didn’t say anything about it.” I blinked. “Let me know if you find a tooth laying around. I can’t feel my molars.”

Suzy stared at me with her bug eyes and then to the ground around us. She puttered about, looking for the tooth, until she slapped her hands against her legs. She shook her head and put the handkerchief back in her pocket. 

“I’m serious, Gene. You need to stop fighting the world.”

“When have I ever done that?” I ran a hand through my hair and let it rest against the back of my neck.

“You just did,” she said, and got up. I watched her throw a few plastic cups into a trash can by the pong table. It was overflowing already, and I didn’t want to think about how bad it smelled. Suzy scrunched up her nose and tied the top of the bag closed.

“This street has a trash problem, and I think that meteor’s going to be the answer.” I mused. 

“Don’t say that!” 

“Don’t fear the reaper, right?” 

She started stomping towards me. I looked up at her. The way her eyes darkened made me think I was in for another lecture, but when she knelt down in front of me, my heart sank. She looked upset. Her frown stretched for miles. 

“I’m done, Gene. No more cleaning up for you. I mean it.”

I wanted to take her hands and give her the biggest hug I could, but I watched her split away from me. I let her walk away and didn’t say a word. I knew she was right and that made me feel like shit.

“I hope you find your teeth,” she yelled from the end of the garage. 

The sun had already started coming up. The purple and pink hues painted her in such a gorgeous light. Like she’d been made to stand far away. Admired. I remembered the way she walked, the way she stared at me. I didn’t know if it was pity or love. I watched Suzy leave me, for good, but I had never really expected her to stay.

A week later Tom sent me a letter. Said he’d like to apologize for hitting me, knocking pieces of my teeth out. Which, by the way, cost me a good three grand. Asshole. I’d agreed to meet up with Tom behind the old diner at the end of the street, but my buddy Harold told me to prepare for the worst. 

“Tom’s a loose cannon, man.” Harold blew smoke into my face.

I waved the smoke around me and chuckled. He wasn’t wrong. Tom wasn’t some go-lucky guy before, but he became a real pain in the ass after they announced that meteor. I’d wanted to teach him a lesson or two about coming into my house, my party, and spreading some stupid mantra. Sunburn Drive didn’t need any more shit filling up the streets. 

“He’s losing it,” I said.

“He already was. This is just giving him another chance to control people,” Harold said.

“So what? This part of town doesn’t need him anyways.”

“Yeah? And who’s gonna take care of it if he’s gone?” Harold said, blowing another puff of smoke into my face. 

“We’ll figure it out.” 

Harold laughed. 

“I mean it.” I said. Harold reached over to put a hand on my shoulder. 

“I know you do.”

Harold threw the butt onto the ground. He got up from the peeled, leather couch his parents had left behind. He headed over to a wardrobe in the corner of his room. I heard him shuffle some clothes around. When he walked back over to me, he was holding a brown paper bag. It’d been crumpled up, like it had been hidden many times before. 

“If you’re going to talk to Tom, you should bring this. I don’t trust him,” Harold said. He opened up the top of the bag. He reached a hand in, and pulled out a silver pistol. The metal glinted in the light.

“No.” 

“You need to!”

“I’m not bringing that with me. I don’t even know how to use one!” I got up from the couch. 

“C’mon man, you know you can’t stand a chance against him with just your fists!” Harold said. He placed the pistol onto the coffee table. He emptied the rest of the bag onto the table. Three bullets almost rolled off the table, but Harold caught them quickly.

“Tom wants to apologize.”

“I doubt it. He probably just wants to teach you another lesson,” Harold mused.

“I’m not bringing a gun, Harold.”

“What if he brings one? Then you’d really be screwed.”

I thought about how Suzy had said she didn’t want to clean up my messes anymore. I thought about the way Tom had looked at me right before he hit my face. The way his nostrils had flared up before he knocked me unconscious. It felt animalistic, like I was the only way for him to get his anger out. 

“At least just take it, unloaded. You might be able to scare him away,” Harold reasoned. 

“You really think it’ll scare him away?”

“Hell yeah it will!” Harold pushed the pistol across the coffee table. 

I looked at it. It looked old, worn. If a pistol could even look worn. Scratches and dents littered the barrel, and I hoped I wouldn’t have to use it. I looked at the clock on Harold’s wall. Half past eleven. Harold was looking at me, like he was waiting for me to do something great. I sighed, and reached for the pistol. The cool metal felt heavy in my hands, almost like it was dragging me down with it. 

I got up from the couch and pulled my jacket open, placing the pistol between the hem of my jeans. Harold gave me a thumbs up. I took a quick hit from Harold’s bowl and ran a hand through my hair. I didn’t know what to expect from Tom. His letter had seemed somewhat genuine, even if Harold thought it was a death sentence. I guessed that there was no shame in being prepared.

The street was empty when I left Harold’s. Bags of trash covered most people’s yards. Glass, broken in the street. Empty containers of take out spilled across the pavement, and I wondered if the back of the older diner would be the same. I thought back to what I had told Suzy that night about the meteor getting rid of the trash in this town. I’d hoped it would light it up in flames. 

The old diner hadn’t been used since Suzy and I met, about two years ago. People found a way to fill it up with trash and shit they didn’t need. The teal outline looked like a glowing halo in the streetlight. A single lamp post made the way clear. I headed around the back of the diner, and there was Tom, smoking a cig. He wore a yellow racing jacket. His brown hair was slicked back, flat against his skull. 

“Took you long enough,” Tom said.

“Sorry,” I said.

Tom threw his cigarette to the ground and crushed it under his shoe. He stood about six inches taller than me, but the one streetlight didn’t do us many favors. I couldn’t see how he looked down on me. 

“I don’t do this often,” Tom said.

“Right,” I mused, and put my hands in my pockets. 

“Do you have anything to say?” he said.

“About the fight?”

“What else would I be talking about?” Tom said, and adjusted his stance.

“Right. Um, I’m sorry, too. For whatever I said.” 

Tom laughed. 

“For whatever you said?” He sounded angry. I pulled my hands from my pockets. 

“Look, Tom, I was really drunk. I probably said some shit I shouldn’t have. And I’m sorry about that,” I said. I felt sweat start to drip down my back. My stomach pooled with adrenaline.

“Yeah, you did.” Tom was clenching his fists now.

“I thought you wanted to apologize?” 

“Yeah. To Suzy,” Tom said, and took a step towards me.

 I reached for the gun in my jacket. Tom must’ve been anticipating it. He jumped at me, toppling the both of us over. His weight felt bruising. I struggled to get my arms out from underneath him. The pistol had fallen out of my jeans and onto the ground. A hand reached for it, I didn’t know if it was mine or his at that point, but I saw the light cast a shadow over half of his face. I grunted and tried to pull my body closer to the pistol. I knew it wasn’t loaded, but he didn’t. Tom got the pistol before I did. He pressed a hand against my face, pushing it into the pavement. 

“You think you’re any better than the rest of us?” Tom grit his teeth together. 

“Fuck, you!” I yelled.

“You shouldn’t have said what you did about that stupid meteor, man!” Tom yelled. It sounded like he was crying.

“I don’t remember what I said!” I yelled. Tom grabbed the roots of my hair, lifted my head, and slammed it into the pavement. I felt that same white hot feeling again, this time in my forehead. I saw black for a moment and felt Tom shift above me. He pushed my face back down into the pavement again. 

“Bullshit!” he yelled.

“C’mon dude!” I cried out.

Tom pulled my hair again. Another hit against the pavement. I felt the sick crunch from my nose, then a numbness followed by a stinging I’d only ever felt once before. Blood pooled from my nose, into my mouth. I spat it out.

 I wish I knew what I said to him that night, when Suzy left. If I’d remembered what made him hit me, it’d stop the pain I felt now. Tom did it again and again. The trash around us melded together. My mouth was soaked with blood. It felt like I had swallowed my teeth. 

“I hope Suzy doesn’t miss you too much,” Tom whispered in my ear. 

I tried to get out from underneath him, a frenzy striking my legs. Tom grunted, and I was able to pull myself loose. I tried to get up, but Tom’s foot kicked the back of my head. It swiveled to the side. It felt unnatural. My hands reached for some kind of hope of getting away alive. I knew Tom was standing above me, watching me crawl towards the pile of trash like a maggot. 

The last thing I felt was another kick in the head. I felt a crack in my throat, my head, everywhere, until it was all darkness. Until there weren’t any more thoughts of Suzy or what I had maybe said to Tom about the meteor. I hoped that I’d see that white light, but I didn’t. The last thing I saw was the sign of our street. Sunburn Drive. It felt stinging and it felt bright.

& & &

After we’d buried Gene, I spent six days alone in my room. Jerry tried to get me to eat, but the pile of dirty plates and flies changed his mind. It was a waste, I couldn’t keep anything down anyways. My stomach rejected everything good for me. Gene was like that, too. He’d caused me hair loss when he was alive, but now it seemed he wouldn’t even let me eat. 

I could’ve sworn I’d left an imprint in my mattress, but I guess it didn’t want to hold. The thing was old anyways. I needed a new one. 

I didn’t let any sunlight in during those six days. It made things colder, like how Gene’s hands were when they lowered him into the ground. He was so still. It made me feel like I’d been the only one there who expected him to sit up and smile. That maybe he was faking it and nothing bad ever happened.

When I found out about Gene I wanted to strangle Harold. That stupid, dazed off look he had only made me want to throw up. I’d almost wished it was Harold instead. The street didn’t need garbage like Harold walking around it. But after I saw him at the funeral with his hands tucked into his slacks, eyes cast downward, I couldn’t. He even tied his hair back. Red nose, glassy eyes. It was like the only thing he could look at was Gene’s casket, six feet into the ground. 

“Yeah, they’re still looking for the guy who did it,” Jerry’s voice sounded from the kitchen, “I know, I know. We’ll be fine, mom.” 

He sounded tired. I bit my lip as I walked out of the bathroom, towards the kitchen. Jerry stood as he watched birds bulldoze into the birdbath from the kitchen window. He sighed before he hung up the phone. When he turned around, he looked tired too. 

“Jeez!”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be, you’re fine,” he said. 

Jerry’s hair had that greased, strawy look to it. Like it hadn’t been washed in a few days. When we were kids, mom used to chase him around the house with a bucket of water in one hand and a shampoo bottle in the other. Set a real good example for the rest of us. 

“What are you doing today?” he asked.

“I’m gonna try to go to work,” I said, and looked at the coffee pot on the counter. 

“You can take more time off if you need to, Suz.” 

I opened the cabinet door to grab a mug. Poured some of the lukewarm coffee into Jerry’s “21 AND SOBER” cup. Jerry watched me pour milk and sugar into the mug. He handed me a spoon to mix it together. 

“I’ll be fine.” I said.

“Right. Call me if you need a ride back home,” He said, and put a hand on my shoulder. It felt stinging. 

“Will do.”

Sunburn Drive was a long street. It stretched on for about three miles, and had all kinds of rundown shops. They used to say that it was a tourist rest stop back in the fifties. We had diners and motels lined up across the road, beckoning passersby to stop in. They never did. The street was too hot and it was covered in trash anyways. 

I worked at the motel next to Fillip’s gas station. Kids used to play in the street when I walked to work, but in the past two years, things had gotten even too hot for that. We had to wear long sleeves and hats anytime we went outside during the day. Heat advisories were posted all over town. Jerry used to say that it felt like a self fulfilling prophecy, that our street was named the very thing it had become. 

I tried to not think about Gene during work. He used to visit me on Tuesdays, bring me a pop or two. He always tried to play the cool guy, that he knew everyone on the street and provided for them. We knew better, though. He just wanted people to like him and he did a lousy job at that.

No one came into the motel. I sat at the desk and stared at the street until I felt my retinas burn. At the end of my shift, I walked home in silence. There were some cars parked in between garbage cans that were full. They spilled over and I could smell their contents baking under the sun. 

When I got home, Jerry asked if I wanted dinner. I ignored him and slammed my door shut behind me. I needed to think of something else. I looked underneath my bed for the bottle of Tito’s I’d been keeping since before Gene died. It flowed down my throat. It stung and burned but it felt good. The light from the sunset made my room a warm orange. My head started to feel dizzy, so I pulled myself on top of the mattress. 

I didn’t sleep most nights. I’d gotten used to tossing and turning. When Gene was alive, he’d cradle me like I was something special. He was so cold during the day, but at night, he felt scorching. That was the only thing I’d thought about in a good light since I’d broken up with him. Images of that night plagued me, so when I actually did fall asleep, it was always the same dream.

That night I had done my hair up like one of those old models from the fifties. I even found some old curlers that’d been laying in the street. Cleaned them off and let them do their work. My hands smelled like hairspray for the rest of the night. I remember how the pencil slid across my waterline. How I smudged it, tried to go for something messy. Maybe it’s because I’d always been like that or maybe Gene had influenced me too much. I remember looking down at my fingertips that were stained with eyeshadow and liner. Felt like soot in between the crevices. 

When I walked into the garage, Gene greeted me with a bear hug. I could’ve smelled the vodka on him from a mile away. He’d whispered in my ear how happy he was to see me, how he needed me, how he’d never found a love so kind. His embrace felt suffocating. 

“Let go, Gene.” I said.

“No, no, just let me hold you,” his head rested atop mine, “you smell nice.”

I elbowed his side. 

“Suzy! Baby, come on. Don’t do that,” he whined. 

“Not now, Gene. When’s the rest getting here?” 

“Should be any minute now,” he rubbed his side. 

“Hey! Sid and Nancy!” Keegan yelled. He pointed at Gene and I. 

“Great.” Gene said, and rolled his eyes. I blew out some air and put my hand on Gene’s shoulder. He looked down at me with that dopey smile. 

“I’ll handle him, you go have fun,” he said, and kissed my cheek. 

If there was one good thing about that night, it was the sound of my heels against the concrete floor of the garage. That, and the pounding drums that made my ears ring. All sorts of dwellers from Sunburn Drive made their way into Harold’s garage that night. Keegan and his blond mullet jumped and the beer was flowing.

Gene tried to dance with me, but it felt forced. My stomach felt sick whenever he touched me. Maybe it’s because I knew his hands were stained with promises he’d never keep. I danced by myself. Tom was there that night, too. He’d been in a sensitive spot ever since they’d announced that a meteor was on route to pass by the Earth. I had no clue why, no one did, but I figured it best to keep my mouth shut. Tom was a big guy who practically commanded the street at night, anyways. 

When I threw out my third can, things felt wobbly. The lights were down low, and I could see Gene across the garage, shooting a beer. Keegan cheered him on. Vivian had a hand on Gene’s chest, and I felt my stomach sink. When he finished the beer, he threw it to the ground. Vivian wrapped her arms around his waist and giggled. Gene’s face was flushed red. She whispered something to him, and I watched them walk off to a further corner. The crowd whooped. My throat felt dry. She grabbed his chin and kissed him. I wanted to see red, I wanted to run up to her and him and scream. Maybe I wanted her to cry, maybe I wanted him to cry, but I didn’t move. I watched them kiss for another minute until she pulled away first. 

I laughed. 

I turned around. The closest person near me happened to be Tom. I tapped his shoulder, and he looked down at me. He moved in tandem with the echoing of The Sound of the Crowd by The Human League. He smiled at me. I grinned and pulled on his coat.

“Dance with me,” I had said. 

I could feel Gene’s stare on me, on my body. I wanted him to watch me wrap my arms around Tom’s shoulders, pull him in close and tell him how badly I wanted to get away. Tom kept a hand on my lower back and pressed me closer against him. Tom swayed us slightly as his other hand came up against my cheek. I leaned into it. 

Before Tom could get any closer than he’d already been, hands pushed against us, ripping the two of us apart. I couldn’t make out what Gene was saying. I only saw the hot anger and spit spewing from his mouth as he pushed Tom back. The crowd started yelling and I tried to see what was happening. Vivian and Keegan stood in front of me and I tried to push myself forward. I pushed enough to see Tom hit Gene twice and knock him out.

“Everyone, out!” Harold yelled.

The rest of the night felt like a pile of rotten food, boiling on the pavement. I broke up with Gene and it felt like I’d finally been free. But that had never been the case. Even in death, I couldn’t get rid of Gene and his antics.

A light tap against my window woke me up. The digital clock on my dresser read two forty-six. When I opened the curtain, I could see Harold looking up at me. He wore a gray hoodie and kept his hands glued to his side. I unlatched the window.

“What the fuck Harold? What’s going on?” 

“You have to let me in, please Suzy,” he begged.

I had half a thought to shut the window and pull the curtains closed. 

“Please,” he whispered.

I sighed and left my room. I heard his footsteps crunch against the dead grass. I checked the crack from Jerry’s door. No light on. He was fast asleep. I tiptoed to the front door. When I opened it, I saw Harold standing there with that same desperate look. He looked paler in the moonlight. A bead of sweat dripped down his temple.

“Are you on something?’ I asked, and stepped closer to him.

“Suzy, I’m sorry,” Harold whispered.

The barrel of a pistol came into view, positioned right behind Harold’s head. The hand holding it connected to a man wearing a yellow racing jacket. His face was partially obscured by the night, but I could make out sharp stubble and that piercing stare. Tom stood behind Harold with the pistol pressed against the back of his head. 

“Move in,” he commanded. 

I stepped backwards, slowly. That’s the thing about adrenaline, you don’t notice it until you start to come down. I felt like I’d been floating in zero gravity as Tom pushed Harold into the house. He left the front door open. 

“Sit.” 

I sat on the couch first, then Harold did. I wondered if Jerry had woken up yet. Tom stood in front of us, the gun pointed in between us. I could feel Harold’s shaking legs. Tom looked bad. His face was stained red. I didn’t know if it was blood or a bad sunburn. I gripped the arm of the couch. 

“Suzy, I’m sorry about Gene,” he whispered. 

I nodded, slowly.

“And I’m sorry about Harold, too. I needed to get your attention.”

Harold took in a sharp breath. His eyes were shiny, like they’d been at Gene’s funeral. Tom rubbed his thumb over the top of the pistol. It shined in the darkness, like a cold star on its deathbed. 

“What do you want, Tom?” 

“You were there at Harold’s party that night,” Tom wiped his nose with his other hand, “you know what Gene did to me.”

“I only remember the before and after,” I told Tom, “I don’t know what he said to you.”

“Bullshit!” Tom’s empty hand hit against his thigh.

“Tom, please!” I cried. 

He stared at me for a second. It must’ve made him think, because his face seemed to relax. He stepped a bit closer to us. He looked like a shadow, covering the moonlight from the open front door.

“Fine. I’ll enlighten you all.” He spat on the ground.

& & &

When I was twelve, I used to pickpocket the lost souls that wandered in and out of Davey’s Casino and Bar. Every Saturday, Pops would leave me on the sidewalk while he went in to make a living for the rest of us. I’d gotten used to Pops beating me or sending me to bed without dinner if I didn’t go with him.  Ma didn’t like what he did, because he used to tell her we were going to the old diner. She might’ve been scared of him and his fists too, though.  

Pops used to call me Major Tom because I’d always find my way back home. Even if an adult chased me down the street because I’d taken a twenty from his pocket, I’d get back there. Pops liked his gambling, like a satellite stuck in orbit. I liked making him happy.

It was an October night when Pops walked into that casino for the last time. I stood outside, across the sidewalk, in my usual manner. I heard the shouting from inside the casino, and I heard Pops cheer. A man wearing a brown leather jacket had started walking along, and I readied myself to grab his wallet from his pocket. I didn’t expect him to grab my wrist and push me against the brick wall. A switchblade pressed against my cheek. The man breathed heavily.

“You think you can just take and get away with it, huh boy?” He grunted.

“Pop!” I screamed.

“None of that!” He smacked my face, “You need some manners,” He moved the blade towards my collarbone.

“Help!” I released another broken cry.

Pops came running out of the casino before the stranger could carve me up. He pushed him back. They gripped onto each other’s arms. My pops threw the man into the side of a dumpster. He hit the ground and dropped the switchblade. Pops ran to grab it, but the stranger was able to get his hands on it again. He swiped at Pops. Pops moved backwards and the stranger moved closer. 

The stranger smiled. He was missing a few teeth. I pressed myself against the brick wall. I tried to sink into it. My hand gripped my shirt. Pops tried to swing at him, but the stranger pushed him over. I watched him slide the knife across Pop’s face, and then right into his belly. I screamed. The man looked at me. There was a speck of blood, Pop’s blood, on his nose. He looked like a wolf, fresh from the kill of his prey. The sirens started before he could sink his teeth into me.

I ran to Pop. Blood was spilling from his stomach. I pushed my hands into his stomach. He screamed at me, told me to stop. I sobbed and sobbed until my throat felt like it’d been scorched. Pops looked at me, then at the night sky. 

“Something’s moving, Major Tom,” he whispered.

“What?” I whispered.

“In the sky,” he took in a sharp breath, “up above us. It’s coming and you can’t stop it,” he looked at me.

“Pop? Pop?” I shook his shoulders. 

He stared up at the stars from that spot on the ground. I didn’t want to look up. Maybe it’s because when I looked down, I knew what it meant. That he’d be gone forever. Pops didn’t say anything else while I cried. 

Ma eventually succumbed to her own vices after that night. It came in a small bottle that made her sleepy. She didn’t care about what happened to Pop’s stuff after he died. She’d wanted to burn it all, but I begged her to let me keep his old racing jacket. 

I tried to ignore visions of meteorites, of things landing right near that casino. I tried to not fight the other kids, but my fists moved before anything else. Over the years, kids would stop messing with me. I’d pour myself into reading about meteorites when Ma was out. I thought that I could be prepared for it when it did happen, and at twenty two, it did. When the world announced that a meteor would be passing by Earth, I felt everything in me boil over. I started fighting strangers at bars, controlling where drugs moved. I was antsy because I knew that it was coming for me. 

But when Suzy danced with me that night, I’d almost forgotten about the charts and stars. It was almost serene, like there had never been anything bad in my life. Like I wasn’t terrified of the meteor or what it meant. When Gene pushed me, I felt that same feeling from that night. A helpless child in me cried out for his dad. 

“Get off my girlfriend, you freak!” Gene yelled. 

“Then why’d she dance with me?” I shouted back.

“She probably pitied your ass. Always up in the stars. That’s no excuse for being an asshole to the whole street,” Gene spat.

“Say that again.” 

“I don’t have to, you already know it,” Gene got close to my face, “maybe your dad was right about that meteor.” He whispered in my ear. 

I let my fists reply. 

That night, I left without a word. I let a week pass by and I sent a letter to Gene. I didn’t want to kill him, I just wanted to hurt him the same way he hurt me. So, when I smashed his face into the concrete behind the old diner, I felt good. He felt the impact that would hit Earth, delivered by me. Delivered by Pops.

At first, I felt bad for Suzy. I didn’t want to hurt her. She’d been a good girl for as long as I’d been on Sunburn Drive. It was a shame that she got mixed up with Gene. She was too good for him. That soft, round face of hers didn’t need to be tainted by that mistake of a man. After camping out in Rafael’s heroin house for a week, I made my move. He gave me the gun.

“Major Tom?” Harold said. 

Suzy’s face was wet with tears as I nodded my head. 

“Please, I’m sorry, Tom,” she pleaded, “none of this was meant to happen.” 

I watched her. 

“Gene was,” she tried to find her words, “he was an asshole. He didn’t know what he was talking about. He didn’t know, he couldn’t have!” she cried.

“But he did, Suzy. I heard it.”

“No one else did!” Harold said. 

I aimed the pistol at Harold. He yelped and sank farther into the couch. 

“Get up.” I said to Harold.

He wordlessly sat up from the couch. I kept the pistol aimed at him. I walked to Suzy, who tensed up. I gripped her upper arm and pulled her close to me. She looked terrified. I motioned for Harold to walk in front of me. He stepped in front and I pushed the pistol against his back. We walked out of the front of the house. I looked up at the sky. It was starting to become a light blue. It should’ve been any time now. 

I pulled Suzy along with me. Once we reached the street, I told Harold to stand. I pushed Suzy towards Harold. She fell into him, and he held onto her so she wouldn’t fall. I kept the pistol aimed at the two of them. My hands shook as I stepped in place. 

“It’s coming, it’s coming for us all and you can’t stop it,” I started, “it came for Pops, it came for Gene, and now it’s going to happen here.” I said.

Harold and Suzy paled. They gripped each other’s hands. I licked my lips. I couldn’t feel my heart anymore. Suzy looked breathtaking under the dawn of the new day. My skin stung. I felt welts begin to boil over as I waited for the impact. When it did hit, I heard Suzy scream. There was a flash of white, then red, then darkness. I felt everything leave my head. Pop, the meteor, Suzy, Harold, even Gene. I saw the flashing lights of that party, Suzy’s warm breath against my ear, and the touch of a switchblade. I felt my skin peel and I wanted to tear it off too, but my hands didn’t move. I faded fast, but not before I got a glimpse of that object moving in the sky. A street post, moving with the rumbling wind.

* * * * THE END * * * *
Copyright Anastasia White 2024