"Hey, what the hell?!!?" Micah looked up at the stucco ceiling as if God was going to respond.
He walked over and yanked the curtains in the kitchen window aside. It was perfectly lovely out. The sun was high in the sky, not a cloud to be seen and a soft breeze glided through the trees; definitely no reason for a power outage.. His face contorted in the glare of the sun as he stepped outside to try and figure out what had happened. No one was outside, which was pretty unusual in this neighborhood. Typically there were kids on bikes cruising the cul-de-sac for adventures and for a moment the silence made him wonder if he was confused about what time it was. He checked his watch, 4:17pm. He looked down the street once more and headed back in the house.
He flipped the light switch in the kitchen just to be sure and headed for the cupboard. His pantry represented the essential bachelor. Chef Boyardee, Ramen, Pringles and warm beer. The fridge wasn't any better so atleast he didn't have to worry about anything spoiling. He popped open a can of raviolis and grabbed a spoon; no need in wasting dishes. He took his dinner of champions out on the front porch and plopped down onto the cracked plastic chair. Still so quiet out there, it just wasn't right. He tried to shrug it off but the fact that NONE of the kids were out really gave him a bad feeling. He took a huge bite of cold raviolis and put the can down deciding to go next door and see if Mrs. Murry and her son Brent where okay. Maybe they knew something he didn't.
He knocked on the door and got no answer. Her silver Prius was in the driveway. He knocked again, nothing. He hustled across the street to old man Jones and knocked heavily against his door. Nothing. Jones was 87 years old and without a license where in the world could HE be?? He banged again on the heavy green door. Feeling something was certainly not normal he jogged back to his house and got his pistol, tucking it into the back of his jeans. He hopped in his car and headed to the Circle K a mile down the road. As he pulled in he noticed cars at the pumps unmanned. He parked and rushed into the store. No one. There was money on the counter and a bottle of Coke on the floor as if someone disappeared into thin air just as they were about to pay.
"HELLO?!?!?" Micah yelled.
He ran back to the car and drove to the next gas station but with the same result. Two hours and 17 business later he was sure he was losing his mind. He sat in the drivers seat open and closing his eyes thinking somehow he would wake up in his bed and understand that this had all been a bad dream. It was dark now and without power the streets were black. He slowly maneuvered his way home. The echo of his slamming car door was unnerving and he hustled into his house to dig out a flashlight. He had no idea what to do with himself other than to sit watch on the porch still hoping at any moment he would jolt awake and see the red numbers on his alarm clock. He wrapped himself in an old flannel blanket and sat down back in the plastic chair. In his lap sat his pistol and a flashlight, and the half eaten can of raviolis sat beside him.
He sat for hours, eyes wide and shifty. He had never been so terrified in his life. Surely there was no way he was the only person still on the earth?? Was this some sick joke played on him by his neighbors, strangers, the whole community? Had he lost his mind and all of this was some delusion meanwhile in reality he was strapped down to a metal bed doped up on pills? His mind raced until he finally drifted to a heavy but unsettled sleep. When he woke the sun was up and he jumped from his chair almost before he even had a chance to get both eyes open. The pistol and flashlight fell to the floor. He ran back to Mrs. Murry's and pounded on the door. Still nothing. He ran to the back of the house, hopping the wooden fence and pressed against the sliding glass door trying to see in. Homework strewn across the dining room table, open fridge and broken mug with spilled coffee on the tile floor....but no sign of life.
Micah dropped to down to the pebbled patio and put his head in his hands. What in the world was happening?
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