Last Call

I filled my glass to the brim, then tilted it to my lips. I swallowed it all in one gulp. It seemed a little redundant to use a shot glass now, rather than just drink straight from the bottle. I suppose I wanted to retain some semblance of how it used to be.

I looked to my right at all the empty bar stools and thought back on all of the fun and the fights I'd had here. This used to be a place of humanity and fellowship. The building used to stand as a monument to mankind and the friendship to be found within. Now standing empty, it would be a monument to what had become of us. It stood out in my mind the time Phillip Hoskin stood atop his chair and sung for us his drunken rendition of "Lights" by Journey. The chorus of laughter, the air saturated with joy and happiness. Such comradery. It all seemed like a fever dream now, born of a desperate need to escape all of this dread and solemn resignation. 

The door opened behind me. I didn't look to see who it was; I knew already. Mr. McGrough had been visiting me everyday for the past four days. He was a tall, older gentleman of about 65 years. His face was wrinkled and hardened by the life of labor he lived out on his farm. He was rough around the edges, but he had a good heart.

"Jerry, everyone's gettin' ready to go."

McGrough's voice was deep and husky. His tone was commanding and sure. Years of ordering teenagers and farm help around had given him an air of authority and respect. Recent events had not changed this, and he remained a pillar of a dwindling community.

I remained silent. I had said all I'd needed to say three times drunk and once more sober. I poured another shot of whiskey and gazed into the amber currents.

Mr. McGrough's footsteps echoed in the empty bar. He pulled out a stool and took a seat next to me. I put my glass to my lips and drank.

"We'll be leavin' out about four o'clock. Give everyone plenty of time." he said.

"Time to say goodbye?"

"I suppose you could put it that way. I'd say time to prepare."

Prepare was the right word. By today everyone had packed up everything they needed. Everyone was going over all of their travelling plans and were laying down their guidelines for the trip. I didn't know a single family that didn't have some sort of emergency plan or new set of rules laid out for their children. I felt a deep sympathy for the Donahues; I didn't know how they were going to keep their little b*****d of a son alive out there. Truthfully, I had the same fear for everyone.

"You oughta come with us, Jerry. Can't afford to be lettin' men waste themselves on whiskey. We need everyone we can get."

I chuckled. I never imagined myself the type to give everything up for the bottle. But I had never imagined the world would come to this either.

"Jerry, there's still a chance."

I smiled and poured myself another shot. "Do you really think that?"

"I do. As long as we're alive there's a chance. And last I checked we were."

"We got lucky. It could have started here just as easily as it did in Buffalo."

"But it didn't, and I think that means something."

I stared straight ahead, at the newspaper I'd pinned to the wall. I thought back on what happened to those poor people in Buffalo. The news came on one month ago and relayed a harrowing nightmare. Hundreds of unidentified creatures descended on the city of Buffalo as if from nowhere. They were fast and vicious. There had been no time to prepare, no time to evacuate, and no way to fight back. They wiped out the city in less than 18 hours. Rescue attempts or any searches for survivors were deemed futile and reckless.

I took another drink.

I looked over at him, and I said: "What do you think it means?"

He looked back at me. His mouth tightened as he seemed to gather his words. "Jerry, I'm not too sure. But I reckon it might mean we're to be the ones that survive. Maybe we got a head start because those monsters aren't supposed to kill every last man and woman on the planet."

I swirled my bottle around idly, and looked back at the newspaper. I said "I suppose you think God gave you that head start?"

He nodded, "Could be."

"What if God sent them here in the first place?"

McGrough nodded again, "That could be too."

I sighed. I kept my eyes on the newspaper. The Cable News Network deemed them "The Horde". The name stuck, as there was little other way to describe them. After Buffalo had been destroyed, the army came in and tried to stop the Horde before they could reach any other major city. Their efforts proved useless, and few lived to make a retreat. After two weeks the only thing we knew about them was that they were invulnerable to any method of death we possessed, and they had effortlessly massacred the entire American Northeast. They did not rest; they rampaged all hours of the day.

One week ago, the news reported that other Hordes had been seen in Europe and Africa. Hopes of retreating to the Eastern Hemisphere had been all but shattered.

That's when this edition of the World News Gazette was published. I've scarce been able to keep my eyes off of it since. That was the day I went into this bar and started drinking. I pinned it to the wall so I could read the headline clearly. It was a tabloid piece; there was barely any journalistic value to be had in it. Tabloid or not though, the headline drowned me in a wave of realization. Strange that the shallow would be the ones to put our predicament in such a concise and elegant way. It read:

HORDES RAVAGE EARTH, EXTERMINATION GUARANTEED

After a moment of silence, Mr. McGrough spoke: "You really oughta take that damn thing down, Jerry. Words'll kill men just as fast as whiskey or demons, if you let 'em."

Bitter tears welled up in my eyes. I muttered a reply through sorrow and gritted teeth: "I can't hide from the truth, McGrough. I won't. I don't see how you, of all people, can either. You're the most blunt and honest person I've ever known. Always spouting out your mind, even when maybe you shouldn't. Now you're coming in here telling me that we can recover from this? That we can escape an unstoppable horde of killers? We're done, McGrough. This is that apocalypse everyone's always going on about."

He took a deep breath. "You call it the truth, Jerry. You say it's a given that we're all dead and nothin's apt to change it. I've been in this life upwards of 60 years now, and not a day's gone by that someone wasn't sayin' the same thing. When it wasn't a horde of monsters, it was a nuclear bomb. When it wasn't a nuclear bomb, it was the Horsemen rainin' down judgement on us. The world's been endin' since the day it began, Jerry. Keep that in mind while you drink your whiskey."

We sat in silence for a few minutes. I sat and stared at my bottle and let a couple tears stream down my cheeks. Before I wouldn't be caught dead crying in front of anyone, but it didn't seem nearly as important now.

Mr. McGrough stood up. "I need to be gettin' on. Folks need help with their preparations." He took a couple steps to the door and stopped. "Four o'clock, Jerry. If you change your mind, we'll be more than happy to accommodate you."

I filled my glass to the brim, then tilted it to my lips.

Author's Note

Any tips or criticisms are more than welcome!

Reviews

[Woody]

what I enjoyed about this story was the element of mystery and intrigue. This could be the beginning of a novel, Stephen King style. On the other hand, it can be left as it is, open to interpretations and the imagination of the reader.
very nicely told, indeed. good descriptions.

[Nusquam Esse]

I enjoy stories that take a seemingly normal event and portray it the way you did here, but in apocalyptic times. Unlike Darkkimmortal, I actually felt that the beginning was poor in contrast to the rest. I am thinking it is because the sentences are too blunt for my taste, and don't feel like they flow as well as they could. I did however, really enjoy the ending, the way that the old man points out that the 'world has always been ending'. And with that last line, I really ponder which decision the MC is going to make.

[McKinleyA]

The first couple paragraphs felt a little off, and I believe you've pointed out the reason why. A bit of subtlety never hurt anything, so that is a quality I'll practice in future writing!

Thank you for taking the time to read this, I really appreciate it!

[Darkimmortal]

What a relief to see an edited story! I did not see a single typo or error that I felt the need to point out do first I would like to thank you for that. I don't blame people for the odd typo here and there, but when there are so many that they pull you away from the story there is really no point in reading.
Anyways, back to your story. First of all the beginning was very well done. You hooked my interest and made me read the rest of the story, which is what a proper beginning is for. Also, your descriptions are impeccable and your wording is so precise and accurate, I enjoyed reading every single one of them.
Really the only negative thing that I have to say is that there wasn't more. I need to know what happens to these people! What are the monsters? What will happen to humanity? Why are they there? You generated so many questions in my mind, and I need to have them answered to please tell me that there is more and I am simply unaware of it.
All in all this was a really great read, you piqued my interest, held my attention and left me asking questions and wanting more. Not many people can do that while I am reading on a laptop, so you should in the very least pat yourself on the back. I am just curious as to why I am the first one to comment in this when you are such a good writer.

Impeccable! I cannot wait to see more.

[McKinleyA]

I feel the same way about typos and the like, and I really appreciate you keeping an eye out for them. This is the first story of any length I've written in a while, and it was very fun imagining this scenario and these characters. I'd love to keep building on this world, so maybe a few more short stories are on the way!

Thank you so much for reading and reviewing this, it means a lot!

[Darkimmortal]

Not a problem at all! Feel free to message me when you write those stories! :p

[Nusquam Esse]

Short story writers are unfortunately quite neglected on this site. It is mostly dominated by poets which have no interest in anything they would have to scroll down for...

[Darkimmortal]

It is so hard to find people that will actually read and comment on short stories these days. What drives me even more crazy is people that put up their work and expect people to comment on it when they are unwilling to do that in return. It drives me nuts.

[Nusquam Esse]

Yeahhh... well, welcome to WC. ;) It is poet central, but you will occasionally find a good story writer on here with a bit of common-courtesy.