Neverending

2

Juliette is my girlfriend.  I know.  How did a guy like me get a girl like her, right?  The thing is, it feels like it's only been five minutes since we started dating; a handful of months of walking on air, seeing joy in everything; feeling like, this is it! I've done it!

Paradise.  

And then – BOOM – volcanoes start bloody erupting in Hawaii, Tahiti and then Japan (unfathomably late to the party).  Sky News start streaming 24/7 as the horror slowly unfolds.  I try to ignore the desperate pings on my phone.  Friends and family check-ins are crowding my screen, obscuring Juliette's beautiful face bit by bit.  All I can see are her eyelashes and the shadow of her hair where the sun forms a halo behind it.  I know behind all the mini look-at-me boxes lies a perfect rendering of my perfect person.  My person.  I just can't see her right now, and it makes me feel uncomfortable.  Like she's not safe.  Like we're not safe.

She's the first person I call, of course, when I get that urgent message from Sebastian.

Get your shit and get out of here

And tell Donna

Donna's the lady who took care of me all the way through school; who treated Sebastian like as much of a son as she treated me.  Which is to say infinitely better than I've seen many, many of my friends be treated after we left Waymore.

Sebastian's lack of punctuation raises alarm bells in my head.  You know the bit in Scream where Drew Barrymore realises the menacing guy on the phone can see her?  I felt exactly that as I desperately searched Sebastian's message for a comma – anything - to tell me that things were normal.  But there wasn't anything there to find.  

Clearly, I needed to get out.

The essentials: We've all seen a stack of zombie movies so we know the drill.  Water, torch, rope (rope?), food that will keep, more water, a couple of shirts and any meds you can get your hands on.  I'm not sure what use Donna's contraceptive pills might be to me in this particular end of days situation but I follow the Zombie Movie Rules.  Double Tap and all that.  You literally never know.

I was geared up in minutes, all the while listening to Juliette's phone ring out, never picking up; never going to voicemail.

Where are you?

Some flipping unhelpful part of my brain cosies up with its arm flung familiarly around the shoulders of my ego and prods me: Why isn't Juliette calling you this very minute?  

Where is she?

Stop!  I want to say but – 

Who's she with?

I shake the thought off, feeling extremely betrayed by my own pre-frontal cortex and force myself to focus on the task at hand.  I have no plan, I realise, beyond what I recall Brad doing back in World War Z.  But still, it's marginally better than zero plan, so I fling my gear in the back of the car, take one final look at the place I've been calling home for the last five years and floor it.

Out of my street and into the future.  Whatever that may look like.

The future, it turns out, looks a lot like Mr. Mishyagi from number 114.

'Jesus!'

I slam on the brakes as he steps out right in front of my car.  He turns to look at me, unsure of what he's seeing.  I lean out of the window and shout, 'Are you ok?  Mr Mishyagi!'  He seems to suddenly recognise me.  'Tinder!  Where are you off to?'

I'm so confused by his every-day, cheery tone, I don't quite know how to answer.  'I'm... Going to meet a friend,' I say.  By this I mean, I'm going to try to find my new girlfriend who, mid-apocalypse, doesn't seem to want to be found.  I try not to let this thought take root in my mind, because God knows there's enough going on right now and focussing on my ego's insecurities isn't going to help me get out of town and to somewhere safe.

'Good, good!' Replies Mr Mishyagi, and gives me a small wave before turning and heading back towards his home.  His red gate lies open, its immaculate paintwork glinting in the afternoon sun.  I take a moment to look around and am almost frozen by the normality of this late August afternoon in my neighbourhood.  My brain is trying to add up what it knows and what it sees.  A seemingly innocuous Tuesday: A few people in their garden, reading books or tending lawns; an open window, from which bossanova music drifts lazily; a girl about my age, fixing the wheel of her bike, wiping a strand of loose blonde hair from her eyes as she works.  The end of the world, most likely right around the corner.  What are these people doing?  Haven't they heard?

I'm not sure what to do and, really, I'm not sure what I could do.  Run around the streets yelling at people to leave?  But how would that work?  And where would they go?  There're not going to believe me until they start seeing things with their own eyes, so reluctant are people to give up the cocoon of familiar comfort.  

I feel bad, especially for Mr Mishyagi, but I'm going to look crazy if I try to warn anyone about what's going to happen.  I've seen 2012, and I've seen The Day After Tomorrow – no-one ever, ever believes the harbinger of doom until they're knee-deep in lava/ice/velociraptors.  

I put my car back into gear and am about to floor it – 

I can't.

I sigh the sigh of the hugely inconvenienced yet morally commendable hero and semi-curse Donna for bringing me up so well.  I jump out of the car, run through the shiny red gate and bang on Mr. Mishiyagi's front door.  'Mr Mishyagi!  Open up!'  I bang again.  I feel urgency coursing through my veins and I wonder how much cortisol and adrenaline it takes to give you a heart attack.  Even as a healthy twenty-seven year old, I don't think I'm too far off.  'Mr Mishyagi!'

The door opens.  'Tinder!  It's you.'  He seems pleased to see me.  I notice that in the short space of time he's been inside, he's changed into a cotton tunic, feet bare.

'Mr Mishyagi, you have to leave here!  Quickly!'

He looks uncertain.  Confused.  'What?  What do you mean?'

I run my hand through my hair, 'Uhhh, it's hard to explain...' I quickly turn ideas around in my head: I don't want to give Mr Mishyagi a heart attack, too.  'It's not... Completely safe here right now.  My friend, Sebastian?  He says we need to leave.  Right now.  Do you have anywhere you can go?  I mean, out of the city?'

'Tinder, I'm not sure I'm understanding you.'  Mr Mishyagi looks puzzled.  Admittedly, I'm not explaining anything very well.  But I can feel urgency snapping at my heels and my fingertips are zinging with energy.  

'Please, just get some things and go and stay with your sister, maybe?'  Mr Mishyagi looks unconvinced.  'Please!'  I plead one more time, as I dash back towards my car.

He shrugs, 'OK, Tinder.'  I can't tell if it's an 'OK, I'll do as you suggest' or 'OK, you're a nutcase'.  Either way, I can't spare the time to wait and see.  I've done what I can.

I turn the ignition again and this time, I make it out of town.