The End (3 page)

He checked the gas gauge and eyed the station across the street.  He'd have to maneuver through
a several car pileup to fill up but if he was going anywhere he'd need to fill up.  Evan wasn't even sure where to go.  He didn't really have any friends or family left to check up on.  As far as he knew, for whatever reason, he appeared to be the last man on Earth.  Should he try and figure out what happened?  Or how wide spread it was?  Or if it could be reversed?  Was that his responsibility now?  He stared at the pile of snickers bars on his passenger seat and felt a little guilty.  When he looked up he also saw one of those new hybrid SUV's sitting a few spots up—the keys still sticking out of the door.

. . .

Evan pulled his newly acquired Toyota Highlander into his garage.  He left all the groceries in the back intending on grabbing some clothes and a few personal items before heading... somewhere.  He packed his clothes, some toiletries, a pack of plastic 1 gallon zip lock bags just in case (just in case of what he wasn't sure yet).  Not being much of a survivalist he didn't have anything like a wind up lantern or solar battery packs or anything like that but they did cross his mind.  He also didn't have any weapons.  Even the pistol in his pocket was pretty useless since he didn't have any ammo.  Hell he wasn't even sure where to buy ammo. 

He didn't winterize the house or shut the power off figuring such things just didn't matter anymore but he didn't see any reason to leave the TV on.  As he picked up the remote to shut it off he noticed something.  The TV was still showing footage of the empty stadium in Philadelphia.  Only now the jumbotron wasn't showing player statistics or txt to vote for your favorite player
ads.  It said in large letters from top to bottom, WTF?

"Nice."  Evan sat down and stared at the screen.  The screen changed to the empty field again.  A moment later it flashed to the empty stands and was several more minutes before the jumbotron was in view again.  This time his heart skipped a beat.  As if someone were erasing characters from a command prompt he watched the ? F T W leave the screen one at a time and in its place appeared L E O  I S  A  T O S S E R.  Paranoia began to seep in.  Had he gone crazy?  Did he just steal groceries AND an SUV?
  Maybe this wasn't as widespread as the entire world.  Or maybe this was just an elaborate prank programmed by some bored employee of the stadium to appear only during off hours.  He'd been known to insert trick code into his own programs from time to time.  In a way it was like a signature.  Or was someone alive and well in Philadelphia just as alone as he was? "Damn it, man, put your phone number or something up!" but they did not... would not.  The Leo is a tosser message stayed put and nothing else changed for a full ten minutes. 

Evan eventually stood up, put his bags into the Highlander and drove away from his house.  The house he'd worked so hard throughout his twenties to earn.  Thinking that such things mattered but knowing that they really didn't, especially now.  Before heading out of town he checked Facebook and CNN again on his phone but again nothing had changed.  He set his GPS for Philadelphia, Citizens Bank Park specifically, and ticked off the options to avoid highways and tolls knowing there was bound to be barricades of crashed vehicles all along the highways across the country.  Luckily the blackout happened mid-afternoon on a business day.  There'd be traffic but not all that much... at least on the east coast.  He stopped
at the edge of his neighborhood.  The GPS announced a left turn and he listened, uncertain whether heading to the city was the right decision or not, but happy just the same to have a heading... and a working GPS.

2

“
I walked the avenue till my legs felt like stone,
I heard the voices of friends vanished and gone,
At night I could hear the blood in my veins,
Black and whispering as the rain,
On the streets of Philadelphia.”

-
Bruce Springsteen

Roy “Doc” Holladay wiped the sweat from his brow then replaced his cap.  He was making his fifteenth start of the year.  He’d struck out four and walked two in fifty pitches so far in the season.  He wound up, ready to strike.   Marlins, Giancarlo Stanton, was at bat.  Giancarlo had snuck a grand slam past Holladay just last year on this very field and by the look on his face he wasn’t about to let it happen again.  The sun was glaring down on them at Citizens Bank Park in South Philly as he released the baseball.  Leo watched from the stands as Giancarlo swung.  CRACK.  All eyes were on the ball as it flew high into the air as if it had wings.

“LEO!  Get your ass back down here!” Mike
Rose bellowed, “The workstation at stand 3 is on the fritz again.  Check it out.”   Leo didn’t see where the ball landed distracted as he was by the radio on his belt.

“On my way,” Leo said to nobody.   He quickly made his way down the stair case.  “Probably unplugged the stupid cable again like she always does,” Leo mumbled
.  He did notice that there was no cheering which probably meant Giancarlo’s fly ball was a homer anyway.  He'd taken the job at the stadium the previous summer as tech support for the concession stands.  He figured worst case he'd get to go to all of the games for free but he barely saw an inning in a season because the equipment sucked and the company was too cheap to replace any of it. As he came around the corner he no longer saw the wide open breezeway of the stadium, sky, sunlight, or anything at all.  Instead in its place was black.  Eigengrau.  Darkness. 

Leo stopped dead in his tracks thinking that somehow he had been struck blind.  He tripped over something and went spr
awling to his hands and knees.  All around him was a cacophony of noise.  Not ballgame noise.  Sure he could still hear the sound of the pipe organ charge blaring from the jumbo-tron but there was no cheering.  Only thuds and crashing.  When he looked up he could see again but just barely.  Then, slowly, the darkness dissipated like smoke.  Clarity, light, and color returned to the world.  For a moment Leo was so thankful that he was not in fact blind at the ripe old age of 21 that he didn’t realize that he was now alone.

He picked
up his radio, "Mike, come in."  No answer. "What the fuck are you doing on the ground?" he said to the Goofball, the Phillies mascot that was sprawled, legs splayed, at the base of the stairs.  Leo stood up, "Come on, dumb ass, I'll help you up."  The Goofball just lay there, "Fine, whatever, have fun with that."

Making his way to stand 3 he noticed piles of clothes laying around and a lot more litter than usual.  As he approached the workstation he saw the CAT5 cable dangling haphazardly
disconnected from the main unit and rolled his eyes, "Sylvia, you need to keep this connected like I told you before." He plugged the cable back in, "It's already a 10/half connection without people unplugging shit all the time," he mumbled then immediately jumped back.  On the ground next to the stand was a set of yellowing teeth on top of a green polo.  The name plate attached to the shirt read Sylvia. 

Leo started looking around harder now, noticing more, realizing something was more than just not right.  Quickly he ran to the stairs leading to the seating area.  The smell of beer was strong, beer dripping into the stands from dropped cups, but he paid no attention to this.  As he reached the top of the stair case he barely had a chance to be shocked at the site of an empty stadium that just moments before had been packed when a
Delta dc-9 nosedived into South Street Philadelphia.  A few seconds later something erupted to the west closer to the airport, then again along route 95.  Leo turned around and ducked as yet another plane plunged overhead. 

He slammed his hands over his ears when
the Lincoln Financial Field sign was struck by the Gemini A321 Jet.  The sound of wrenching metal was overpowering followed by the blast of heat that hit his face even from across the parking lot when the tail exploded.  The rest of the jet crashed into the Navy yard and across the Delaware expressway.  Leo ran back down to the breezeway.  His Blackberry was cracked and not responding.  He threw it away and tried the radio again, "Mike, holy shit, man, are you seeing this?" 

He was only 8 years old when the twin towers were struck but he still remembered the day it happened.  Growing up in
South Philly he also remembered the speculation that Flight-93 might have been headed back towards Philly instead of the White House had it not been brought down in Somerset County.  He remembered seeing the footage of ashes raining down in New York City and the plume of smoke at the pentagon and yet this felt different.  This didn't feel planned, it was too sporadic, too quick and where the hell was everybody? 

More explosions were occurring outside but they were muffled now as he made his way to the basement level where the offices were.  He ran to the TV that was there on top of
Angie’s filing cabinet that always had the news on.  He saw her blue dress with the low neckline crumpled on the floor in front of her desk.  On the TV was a skewed view of the News 7 studio, nothing more.

He ran to his boss's office, Mike's glasses were on top of his keyboard, his blue jeans and red polo on his chair and the floor.  Leo's heart was racing, he knocked the glasses out of the way and began typing.  First he checked the news websites and then the social websites but there was nothing.  He picked up the phone and called over to
headquarters but there was no answer.  He tried a few other sites, he tried calling a few friends, he tried calling Dominoes pizza.  Nothing.  Nobody answered. 

He sat there for at least ten minutes more hitting refresh on various news sites but nothing changed.  Eventually he pulled up the jumbo
-tron interface, logged in, and typed in the sequence he'd seen Mike enter so many times in the off-season. The clear text entry for the display opened and he typed in "WTF?”  Why not?  If anything would get someone's attention it would be 15' letters on a screen that could be seen for miles in two directions and at this point he'd be happy to see even a terrorist.

. . .

Flight 799 landed uneventfully on the runway at Philadelphia International Airport.  The captain spoke clearly announcing the local time and weather over the intercom system.  He thanked everyone on board the 757-Premier, especially those who had maintained their preferred status.  He wished everyone an easy connecting flight and welcomed home those who were at their final destination.  The 757 glided smoothly towards the terminal and as it came to a complete stop at the gate everything went completely black and the captain never spoke again.

Finn was startled awake by his own snoring.  The seats around him were all empty.  He looked back and forth along the corridor.  It looked like someone's luggage had exploded.  In the seat next to him was a paperback copy of George Takai's Oh Myyy! and on the floor a cracked Kindle fire, "Oh my indeed."  He raised the shade of his window and looked out.  The plane was at the gate he saw and off in the distance another plane had crashed into the tarmac, "Wow!" he pulled out his camera and began snapping pictures before even unbuckling his seatbelt.  Before long he made his way down the aisle looking to get off the plane.  As he passed first class he found that the door was still closed and amid the scattered belongings was a flight attendants uniform.

The
restroom door was closed and the occupied light was on.  He knocked on the door, "All right?" No answer, "On the job in there aye?" He paused again not wanting to piss anyone off, "Seems I missed the boat.  Don't mean to be a bother but could you let me off the plane?"  Still no answer, "You know there's been a plane crash?  Just outside there."  Finally he tried the handle. The restroom was empty except for another pile of clothes, "Bugger." The cockpit was also unlocked and inside were two empty captains’ uniforms.  The plane was still idling, power engaged, "What the bloody hell is going on here?"

Finn sat down in one of the empty seats in first class with a small bottle of wine, just enough to fill a glass with, going over the
emergency landing instruction booklet in the seat back pocket.  He put it back in the pouch and made his way to the main cabin door again, "All right.  In case of emergency lift lever."  He lifted the lever then continued the instructions to open the cabin door but the wheel gate wasn't in place, just a 35' drop to the tarmac, "Well isn't that just perfect!"  Exasperated he went to the emergency exit and tried again, this time as he pulled the door back an inflatable slide appeared before him.  After a moment he was on the tarmac.  Shockingly he noticed a large plume of smoke off in the distance within the city and there also appeared to be more than one plane crash right there at the airport.  A baggage cart had crashed into one of the planes parked in the distance and a moving staircase was trudging along down the runway seemingly unmanned.

Smoke and flames were making their way towards him from the multiple crashes,
carried by leaking fuel and strong winds further enhanced by the surrounding dried grass.  He looked around for a way into the Airport but nothing stood out.  There had to be an employee entrance somewhere though.  He followed the trails of a baggage cart and found a concealed entryway.  He crawled onto the conveyor belt that led into the underbelly of the airport. 

A long series of conveyors covered in luggage were there as well as a few empty uniforms and an iPhone.  He ran to the iPhone and picked it up, the battery of his own phone long dead after the flight.  Its screen was cracked in one corner but it was still usable.  They hadn't even used a passcode
, "must be my lucky day".  He quickly launched several APPs looking for any information he could find but was dismayed to find nothing current.  He held onto the phone and made his way into the baggage claim area again through the conveyor system.

More clothes lined the common areas, every now and again a cup of coffee was
splattered on the floor as well. "Hello!" he called out again and again as he wandered about but no answers came.  He made his way upstairs to the security checkpoints certain that if anyone was around they'd stop him from entering the secure area of the airport, especially in light of all the plane crashes but again he saw nothing.  At the entrance he saw TSA uniforms mixed in with the passengers empty clothes. 

Amid a wrinkled sundress something shiny was sticking out.  He knelt down and picked up a small sealed pouch of something clear and squishy.  Finn quickly dropped it when he saw its match still lying inside a br
a within the dress, "Someone's dropped their knockers." 

"Hello.  Welcome to Philadelphia International Airport.  We're glad you're here and thank you for visiting our fine city."

Finn leapt to his feet and ran towards the sound but it was just an automated message explaining the security area.  "Please remove all laptops, toiletries, and.." He made his way through the security gate without being stopped.  Inside the airport was more of the same.  One of the golf cart style carriers had crashed into a bookstore scattering paperbacks all over the floor.  Smoke was pouring out of a deep fryer that appeared to have a hat sticking out of it.  A fountain soda machine was overflowing soda onto the floor where a large plastic cup had gotten lodged against the dispenser trigger.  Finn got into the golf cart and began driving along the terminal through the empty airport. 

He drove past the CNBC News retail outlet and noticed an empty studio was on the screen of the TVs
they had on display, the ticker at the bottom still going with likely old news.  He slowed and watched the screen anyway. 
President will focus on the middle class. 
Followed by
Apple and Samsung, Frenemies for life.
  Followed by
Highlights From NY Fashion Week. 
Followed by more mundane news.  Not a single thing about the multiple plane crashes at Philadelphia airport or the plume of smoke pouring from center city or a horde of naked people running around with their knockers and todgers flapping about.

He continued down terminal A
in the cart.  There was another TV going behind the counter at the Chickie's and Pete's restaurant.  A clear view of the Phillies v. Marlins game was on screen and on it he saw someone walking across mid-field carrying a baseball bat, "Blimey."  The cart crashed into a stack of luggage carts. 

. . .

Leo sat for a while staring down at the empty field.  There were several fleeting moments when he thought of jumping, might have done it too if he'd had a few more beers from the Brew stand.  Instead he'd switched to hot dogs and was now too stuffed to do anything so drastic.  He made his way down to the dugout and then out onto the field.  He picked up Giancarlo's hat and put it on.  Then he picked up the baseball bat and pretended to swing.  He tossed the hat to the side and walked towards the pitchers mound where Holladay's jersey was flapping in the wind.

Behind him in all its glory was the jumbotron screen, the big
“WTF?” prominently displayed.  He wondered if there was anyone out there watching from home, anyone out there at all.  He tossed the bat to the side and picked up the baseball.  He raised a leg and extended his arm but before he let go of the ball he changed his mind and slid it into the back pocket of his baggy blue jeans. 
Why not?
he thought.