Countdown

There was so much. It’s been like this as long as I can remember. It looked like snow, sure, but we all knew it wasn’t. I bet if I think real hard, I can relive the day. There was a sun, back then. The boy and I went to chop wood.
“Alright, now what you wanna’ know about choppin’ wood, is that it takes muscle, and patience. What you really wanna’ do is get the axe-“, *thud*, “deep into the wood. After that, all you really need to do is shake the axe out, and you got chopped wood.”
“Can I try Dad?”
“It’s all yours”
We chopped wood for about eight hours, no lie. The missus’ called us in for supper. It was Friday, so we had our annual T.V. frozen dinner. Some political show was talkin’ about some ICBMs reaching America. The states had been getting’ in to some trouble with the U.S.S.R. for some time now. They were tryin’ to see who could build more ICBMs. But does it really matter how many of the things a country has, once they have any? The men on T.V. sounded kinda’ worried, like somethin’ was gunna’ happen. They told us Kansas folk to get into our tornado shelters. We grabbed our blankets, our dog, Sparky, and all the food we could carry. We stumbled into the shelter, where we had turned on the crank-powered T.V. There was nary a signal. We heard some kinda’ whisperin’ on the T.V.
*We’re as good as dead. They launched ‘em.They launched ‘em. Pray. Pray for sweet, sweet life.*
The politician broke into tears. They must’ve done it.
“The poor, poor man. Those crazy foreigners, killin’ us like pigs. They must want us, eradicated.”
We sat in the darkness, for longer than a clock can keep track. It makes you worry, what’ll happen next. The smallest noise’ll make you jump. Sittin’ in the dark, with nothin’ but your thoughts. I’ve had some pretty long nights in Kansas, but this must’ve been the longest night of my life, and no one said a word. We awoke the next sunrise. It was cold as the poles. We opened the door.
“Snow!” the boy said.
“Wait. It’s not snow.” I replied.
I picked up a handful. God, it was hot as overcooked food! The land was rich with this substance. Not a building lay in sight. We looked for the SUV, which was nowhere to be found. How can the temperature be cold, but the ash was piercing warm? We traveled down the road to my friend who’s a meteorologist.
His home was demolished. Only the rafters from his basement were dangling in the wine cellar. I remember that old cellar. We used to watch football on Sundays there. We relaxed and dined, with some beer and wine. Those were glory days. Surprisingly, he had a curry bike in the basement. Biking, that was his thing. He was an athletic man, with a behind the desk job. If you don’t get out and about after work, you’re just a sittin’ duck. My wife and I carried the curry up the stairs and set it on the ash-infested soil. The tires wouldn’t budge.
“This is a road curry. Not meant for this kind of land.” I said
My wife broke down into tears. As she bawled non-stop, I helped her up as we slowly stumbled across the vast, barren terrain, with my son following behind. We kept going ‘till we reached the city. There were only a few buildings left, partially damaged. We stumbled up to what I guess was the twelfth floor. Ash and wood fell from the ceiling every now and then.
Now, years later, the sun is gone. All that’s left is a sky full of gray soot. The curry is still at my friend’s house, seeing we go there every now and then. I can’t remember the last time I was happy, it’s simply been too long. All that’s left is the boy and I, my wife committed suicide by gunpoint, with my .44 Revolver. My grandfather gave that to me on his death bed. We only got two bullets left in the thing: one for me, and one for the boy. It’s almost like that one McCarthy story, the uh…”The Road”. Yeah, that’s it. No more for me. I think I’ve had enough. It might be good to just, lie down and rest…for a little…while. How nice it would be, to never have to wake up to this world. If only, if only this wasn’t reality, and I was really some figment of an author’s mind.
“Ha! That would be good.”
I sat there for a while. I sat there for a long time. I was tired. When the boy finds me, he won’t know what to do. “Mankind has to end war, before war ends mankind” J.F.K. once said. It’s been a good couple of years. I’ve earned this haven’t I? I deserve to rest. Yeah, that must be it. I’ll just rest, if only for a little while.
As the wind whispered into the old man’s ears, he drifted off into a never-ending slumber. The story will pan out, with the decrescendo of the wind and soot, blowing amongst the withered Virginian trees.