And Then, Silence

The world is coming to an end. That's what mama says. It hardly feels real. But then, Uncle Bishop says it's all too big for us to grasp. Perhaps that's why he gon' hanged himself week before last. That made me sadder than the end of the world. Maybe that's why I agreed to come alone with Sloan and Jackie, and Sloan's sister Beth, and Anna-Leigh - the shop girl who's mercifully petite enough to fit between the siblings in the back of Old Roy's banged-up Ford Taurus. With five of us squeezed in together, it ain't winnin' any races. Which is a shame, in hindsight, 'cause we were racin' against time after all.

I guess other folk were payin' more attention to how things were unravellin'. People said the birds were actin' funny but I didn't pay them no mind. I noticed the wind changin' on us though; it ain't usually that cold in July. But the radio was still playin' and I was on the road with my friends, headin' on down to Florida to see Sloan and Beth's grammy. Things weren't great when Janine moved away - not for Sloan or Beth or anyone who gon' miss her. For example, Old Roy. We got his Taurus on account of his fondness for Miss Janine and the recklessness ma and pa warned me about. All we gotta do in return is give her his best. I don't suppose we'll never get to do that now.

Last night, I started to believe in the end of the world. There we were, making good time out on the flats of Ohio, cruisin' down the I-75 without a care in the world. The interstate was empty. Everybody else gon' done give up tryin' to get nowhere. They're all stayin' at home like good boys and girls, or they're lootin' in the city. Mama said I could go with Jackie and Anne-Marie and the twins on two conditions: be back before the end, and stay away from the cities. "People are demented there; they gon' lost their minds," she said.

I let Sloan do most of the drivin'. I just had the map open on my lap to save on cell battery. The rush of warm air through the window was good for my soul; even though dusk had fallen, it still felt stuffier than a pig pen in that car. I could see Anne-Marie was sleepin', her head restin' on Beth's shoulder. Beth and Jackie were whisperin' among themselves, Beth turned awkwardly toward Jackie so that she didn't disturb Anne-Marie. She was good like that, a big sister to us all even though she was in the same grade as the rest of us.

Sloan looked over at me. "Hey," he said, pattin' my thigh. He was like that, someone who felt like he couldn't connect - couldn't be with you properly in the moment - if he wasn't making contact with you. It irked some people, I know, but I didn't mind. Besides, it was nice to be reminded that I wasn't alone, watching the stars drift by on an empty highway. It occurred to me then that this was the furthest I'd ever been away from home. I didn't want Sloan to take his hand away at that moment - just in case. At least he replaced it with a smile when I cared to look over at him.

"Whatcha thinkin' about?" he asked.

"How you should be keepin' your eyes on the road. Mama would have a fit if she knew you were a dangerous driver."

What I loved about Sloan was that he knew I was just joshin' him. He knew I thought he was a great driver, but he also knew my mama would indeed have a fit at the slightest suggestion of her baby bein' in any kinda danger.

"No, really. Come on, you can tell me. Don't make it all lonely up here in the driver's seat." He laughed quietly, and his face was still lit up like a summer’s day, but I could tell he felt as lonely as I did out here in the middle of nowhere, on a darkened interstate whose lights were failin'.

"Do you reckon they're right?" I asked. "That it really is the end of days?"

He thought about it for a moment, but it was a brief one; clearly he'd had the answer loaded in the barrel for some time. Maybe he'd wanted me to ask him all along, rather than reading out the route from a map. None of the others would've asked, I'm sure of it.

"That Sunday School bullshit? Nah." Sloan paused and swapped hands on the wheel. He liked to chew on the index finger of his left hand when he was drivin' and thinkin', and he did that then, resting the elbow on the door. I took a keen glance at the bicep closest to me, the occasional street light castin' shadows over the muscle. He could've been a pitcher for our high school team, he just never had an interest in baseball. And I never had an interest in his arms before, but the end of the world is no time to be demure, am I right?

"I don't think it'll be judgement day, hellfire and brimstone, and all that," he said, voice a little dry. I passed him a bottle of water from the pack at my feet, but he declined and went on, "But the science? I think that's got us. I think it might very well be."

I don't know why, but the answer made me sadder than when ma and pa had broken the news - sadder than when I thought to myself how I'd never get to see some folk again. The experts gave us a month, maybe two. Nobody seemed to mind the first couple of weeks, but the news didn't change - so they did, grief warpin' their minds. I guess I was still holdin' out some hope. And then the most hopeful person I know told me he ain't got none left.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to bum you out or nothin'. You asked," Sloan reminded me.

I just sighed louder than I meant to and turned to count the stars instead. That's when I saw the first shooting star, cuttin' through the dark. It wasn't that bright on account of the lingerin' glow on the horizon, though that didn't seem right either. I checked the clock, barely visible on the dashboard. It was too late for the sun to be peekin' at us from over the edge of the world.

"What is it?" Sloan asked, leanin' to my side to see what I saw.

"I saw a shootin' star. Well, I think I did. Sloan, watch out!"

As I cried out, he turned his attention back to the road and just in time too. He slammed the brakes on, waking Anne-Marie and causin' Beth to scream a little. Mama would be havin' one of those fits right about now, I thought. But I kept that to myself.

The headlights lit up a car, abandoned on the road in front of us. I'd only seen some black shape in the dark, thinkin' it was an elk or somethin' of the like.

"Jesus, Sloan," Jackie called up from the back. He was always so serious. Sloan just laughed at the close call.

"Guys, what's that?" Anne-Marie asked, half dozin' still. Her finger was pressed against the window and I took a mental note to clean it off before we gave the Taurus back to Old Roy.

"Oh my god," said Beth in a way I imagined people to speak when they saw a UFO or somethin', like in the pictures.

"What is it?" I asked, a little too cheerfully I guess. But I hadn't seen it yet and I was still reelin' from the near-miss.

Nobody answered. Or maybe gettin' out of the car was Sloan's way of answerin'. He knew I'd follow, unclippin' my belt before the others in the back could protest.

Outside, the air was still warm, and it felt charged. The scent was familiar, like Uncle Bishop's workshop, or the farm when a storm was comin'. But the skies were clear and the wind was too still to be warnin' us of nothin'.

Sloan pointed ahead and told me to look, but I was already gazin' at the sight. It was hard to describe, but I've had some time to think. The sky was all different colours, rippling outward like a curtain. I'd seen pictures of the northern lights, but they'd been green and blue, showy and fading in places where it always snowed. This was red and orange, a little green and blue, some purple - but I mainly remember that angry warmth spreadin' across the sky. We didn't need street lamps now. I could make out more and more dead cars on the road ahead of us, and only now noticed people gettin' out of 'em.

I tugged on Sloan's arm to get his attention, but the glow of the marbled sky had him. The others - Anne-Marie, Beth, Jackie - joined us now. Jackie and Beth held hands. Anne-Marie wept, so Beth pulled her close.

"What's happenin'?" I asked Sloan. I knew he'd know.

"I think...I think it's the magnetic field."

"My phone's dead," Beth announced, holding her cell over Anne-Marie's shoulder as the smallest of us sobbed directly onto Beth's jacket.

"Mine too," added Jackie.

Sloan glanced back at the stopped cars strewn about the interstate ahead of them. He vanished then, racin' back to Old Roy's Taurus. When he rejoined us, I saw the hope wiped from his face. He looked more serious than I'd ever seen him, covered in more shadows from the strange light show than I'd ever thought possible.

"The car's dead," he said in a low voice. I knew he was tellin' me first. He knew I could take the news, but I was barely hangin' on as it was.

And then we saw the rest of the shootin' stars. They were tiny glimmers against all the colour, but some of the sky was still dark enough to make 'em out. My stomach lurched long before my mind worked out what they really were.

I heard Beth say, "Oh God," and felt a little tremble in my leg and a tear in my left eye. But I didn't know why. Not until a little voice in my head put it all together and whispered to me: it's all the satellites.

"It really is the end, isn't it?" I asked Sloan.

"It is," he answered, takin' my hand. I really appreciated him doin' that. I needed to not feel alone.

The light show continued for hours - the first of many before the end. Though we would have to learn that for ourselves. In the mornin' we knew we'd have to abandon the car and try to see how far we could get on foot or at least until we found another way of gettin' to Florida. Whether or not the others would admit it, Sloan doesn't think we'll make it to Miss Janine's in time.

"I reckon things are quickenin' now," he confided in me that night. I knew what he meant.

Ma and pa warned me that the world was endin' but I needed to see it for myself. We let Jackie and Beth get some rest in the car while Sloan, Anne-Marie, and myself sat on top of the Taurus, watchin' as the colours rippled and faded. As night came back, we caught the last of the satellites crashin' through the sky. In the mornin', we'd have to realise the implications and there'd be time for mournin' the voices we'd never hear again, the small luxuries that now meant nothin'. But for a little while at least, we were all quietly content to watch as silence fell across planet Earth.

I kept myself close to Sloan. At least I wouldn't be alone at the end. Ma wouldn't want me to be alone.