*This piece was written for class assignment to write a short piece of fiction based on The Comet by W. E. B. DuBois in which two characters survive the end of the world.*
I thought the end of the world would be more fun than this, Izzy thought as she took a drag from her cigarette. Maybe there could’ve been dancing and wild drinking, instead of the suddenness, the emptiness, the sceams.
She could still hear the shouts of the people of New York City as the mushroom cloud expanded over the horizon, could still feel where the bomb’s scorching rays had burnt her arms and where a falling piece of rebar had crushed her leg. She stubbed out her cigarette and looked up at the imposing building before her. Half the roof was crushed in and the ground was covered in broken glass. She sighed, and hobbled towards the wide,smashed doors.
The hospital lobby was more grotesque then she was expecting, and Izzy had seen some pretty grotesque things in the last 24 hours. There was a mother with a stroller, bent double to protect the baby inside. Her skin was red and bubbling and the air smelled of cooking meat. Izzy didn’t dare lift the woman’s broken and mangled corpse to see what had cooked inside the plastic and fabric oven. She gagged a little, and moved on.
She made her way to the elevator and pushed the top button, smirking slightly. This was a hoot,a real hoot. When the elevator dinged ,she was shocked. But she got on, and with a creak and and an ominous saway the little metal box climbed up to the fourth floor. Izzy disembarked and, gripping the wall for support, made her way towards the nurses station. Grabbing a roll of bandages, she tore some with her teeth and did her best to wrap her burnt, raw skin. She scrambled about, flinging pills and creams this way and that until she found a burn salve and a pair of crutches. It was then that she heard the most pitiful noise in the world. Wobbling past the nursery-she didn’t have the stomach to look inside-she found the source of the noise in the pediatric oncology wing. Pushing open the door, she found a little girl, bald as cueball, lying helpless in bed and crying.
“Hey, kid,” said Izzy dryly, “Want a cigarette?”
“Who are you?” asked the girl. She was thin and wan and sickly looking and hooked up to a series of monitors and bags of dripping fluid, still pulsing and keeping her alive despite the destruction all around.
“Izzy Chou. Thought I was the only one left alive, so maybe a better question is, who are you?”
“I’m Annie Connely. Make-a-wish kid.. Do you know where my parents are?”
“Dead,” said Izzy quietly.
“Dead?” Annie repeated.
“Dead.”
The room went quiet. Annie stared at her small, bloodless hands. IZzy took the opportunity to take in the room around her. A piece of the room had fallen in and taken out a corner of the ceiling, leaving them exposed to the sharp smelling wind that carried death and decay to their nostrils. In what remained of the room was a large teddy bear, a lot of flowers, and a series of pictures taped to the door. They showed a girl-Annie-with long, red hair and full, rosy cheeks, perched on the shoulders of a tall bearded man. They showed Annie with a puppy, Annie with After a long moment Izzy said, “Let’s go, kid.”
Annie didn’t respond. She shook slightly, sobbing silently.
“I said, let’s go!”
“Go where?” Annie yelled, rage and grief gripping her tiny body like a fire. “There’s nothing left.”
“Just-come with me, ok? Listen-we might be the last ones left and we sure as hell ain’t repopulating the earth. All that free radiation treatment and we probably won’t be here for very long anyways.”
“But what about the rest of the world?” Annie asked.
“They’re the ones who sent the bomb to us. As far as we’re concerned, they don’t exist. Now, let’s disconnect you from these things.”
Izzy hobbled over to the IV and said, “This is gonna hurt.” She gave it a nice yank and Annie screamed.
“Alright, alright, it’s all over with.” She undid the electrodes and tubed until ANnie sat in bed, free of the life-saving machines, with her arm bleeding from the spot where the IV had been.
“You ready to go?”
“Yeah.”
And they set off into the gathering dusk.
The view from the top of the empire state building was always pretty nice, but today it was even prettier. The radiation sky was electric green, vivid pink, neon yellow. The city below them was wrecked, fallen in, crumbling. In the distance towards the sea, a thick fog was beginning to roil and flow inland, carpeting the twisted steel and shattered concrete in a layer of cottony down.
They hadn’t been so lucky with the elevator here and even less lucky with the number of dead filling the hallways. They piled up on each other, dead weight, burnt and gory bags of flesh.
Some of the stairs were broken or missing, and at one point the walls were gone entirely. Izzy made her way upwards slowly, dragging her bad leg behind her. Annie did okay, but had to stop and take gasping, rattling breaths every few steps. Finally, as night fell on the silent city, they reached the observation deck.
The first thing they noticed was that lights had gone out. Izzy had lived in New York City her whole life and had never, not once, not ever seen it so dark. The neon signs, the yellow glow of the skyscrapers-all were gone. The next thing they noticed was the quiet. Normally the city was a roar of traffic, of voices, of tires and footsteps and barking dogs and beeping trucks. Not tonight. Not ever again.
Izzy sat down on the very edge of the building and Annie sat down beside her. The silence was weighty like a heavy blanket or a shackle.
“You’re not a Chirstian, are you?” Annie asked.
“Nope. Mom was a bhuddist and dad was-well, he wasn’t very religious.”
“I am.” Annie pulled a silver chain with a cross on it from her thin neck.Her hospital gown flapped in the breeze,
“Are you still? After all of...this?” izzy gesutred to the acpolcoatpyic landscape below them.
:”I guess so.”
“Will you say a prayer for me?”
“Yeah.”
And so they sat together in the massive quietness of death as the moon rose, pale and sickly over the silent city, and the only light was the end of Izzy’s cigarette.
I thought the end of the world would be more fun than this, Izzy thought as she took a drag from her cigarette. Maybe there could’ve been dancing and wild drinking, instead of the suddenness, the emptiness, the sceams.
She could still hear the shouts of the people of New York City as the mushroom cloud expanded over the horizon, could still feel where the bomb’s scorching rays had burnt her arms and where a falling piece of rebar had crushed her leg. She stubbed out her cigarette and looked up at the imposing building before her. Half the roof was crushed in and the ground was covered in broken glass. She sighed, and hobbled towards the wide,smashed doors.
The hospital lobby was more grotesque then she was expecting, and Izzy had seen some pretty grotesque things in the last 24 hours. There was a mother with a stroller, bent double to protect the baby inside. Her skin was red and bubbling and the air smelled of cooking meat. Izzy didn’t dare lift the woman’s broken and mangled corpse to see what had cooked inside the plastic and fabric oven. She gagged a little, and moved on.
She made her way to the elevator and pushed the top button, smirking slightly. This was a hoot,a real hoot. When the elevator dinged ,she was shocked. But she got on, and with a creak and and an ominous saway the little metal box climbed up to the fourth floor. Izzy disembarked and, gripping the wall for support, made her way towards the nurses station. Grabbing a roll of bandages, she tore some with her teeth and did her best to wrap her burnt, raw skin. She scrambled about, flinging pills and creams this way and that until she found a burn salve and a pair of crutches. It was then that she heard the most pitiful noise in the world. Wobbling past the nursery-she didn’t have the stomach to look inside-she found the source of the noise in the pediatric oncology wing. Pushing open the door, she found a little girl, bald as cueball, lying helpless in bed and crying.
“Hey, kid,” said Izzy dryly, “Want a cigarette?”
“Who are you?” asked the girl. She was thin and wan and sickly looking and hooked up to a series of monitors and bags of dripping fluid, still pulsing and keeping her alive despite the destruction all around.
“Izzy Chou. Thought I was the only one left alive, so maybe a better question is, who are you?”
“I’m Annie Connely. Make-a-wish kid.. Do you know where my parents are?”
“Dead,” said Izzy quietly.
“Dead?” Annie repeated.
“Dead.”
The room went quiet. Annie stared at her small, bloodless hands. IZzy took the opportunity to take in the room around her. A piece of the room had fallen in and taken out a corner of the ceiling, leaving them exposed to the sharp smelling wind that carried death and decay to their nostrils. In what remained of the room was a large teddy bear, a lot of flowers, and a series of pictures taped to the door. They showed a girl-Annie-with long, red hair and full, rosy cheeks, perched on the shoulders of a tall bearded man. They showed Annie with a puppy, Annie with After a long moment Izzy said, “Let’s go, kid.”
Annie didn’t respond. She shook slightly, sobbing silently.
“I said, let’s go!”
“Go where?” Annie yelled, rage and grief gripping her tiny body like a fire. “There’s nothing left.”
“Just-come with me, ok? Listen-we might be the last ones left and we sure as hell ain’t repopulating the earth. All that free radiation treatment and we probably won’t be here for very long anyways.”
“But what about the rest of the world?” Annie asked.
“They’re the ones who sent the bomb to us. As far as we’re concerned, they don’t exist. Now, let’s disconnect you from these things.”
Izzy hobbled over to the IV and said, “This is gonna hurt.” She gave it a nice yank and Annie screamed.
“Alright, alright, it’s all over with.” She undid the electrodes and tubed until ANnie sat in bed, free of the life-saving machines, with her arm bleeding from the spot where the IV had been.
“You ready to go?”
“Yeah.”
And they set off into the gathering dusk.
The view from the top of the empire state building was always pretty nice, but today it was even prettier. The radiation sky was electric green, vivid pink, neon yellow. The city below them was wrecked, fallen in, crumbling. In the distance towards the sea, a thick fog was beginning to roil and flow inland, carpeting the twisted steel and shattered concrete in a layer of cottony down.
They hadn’t been so lucky with the elevator here and even less lucky with the number of dead filling the hallways. They piled up on each other, dead weight, burnt and gory bags of flesh.
Some of the stairs were broken or missing, and at one point the walls were gone entirely. Izzy made her way upwards slowly, dragging her bad leg behind her. Annie did okay, but had to stop and take gasping, rattling breaths every few steps. Finally, as night fell on the silent city, they reached the observation deck.
The first thing they noticed was that lights had gone out. Izzy had lived in New York City her whole life and had never, not once, not ever seen it so dark. The neon signs, the yellow glow of the skyscrapers-all were gone. The next thing they noticed was the quiet. Normally the city was a roar of traffic, of voices, of tires and footsteps and barking dogs and beeping trucks. Not tonight. Not ever again.
Izzy sat down on the very edge of the building and Annie sat down beside her. The silence was weighty like a heavy blanket or a shackle.
“You’re not a Chirstian, are you?” Annie asked.
“Nope. Mom was a bhuddist and dad was-well, he wasn’t very religious.”
“I am.” Annie pulled a silver chain with a cross on it from her thin neck.Her hospital gown flapped in the breeze,
“Are you still? After all of...this?” izzy gesutred to the acpolcoatpyic landscape below them.
:”I guess so.”
“Will you say a prayer for me?”
“Yeah.”
And so they sat together in the massive quietness of death as the moon rose, pale and sickly over the silent city, and the only light was the end of Izzy’s cigarette.
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