He Went to Jared

When the world ended, it didn’t end in some showy apocalypse. There were no aliens, no catastrophic climate events, no global nuclear wars. No, the world ended because of a birthday gift.

***

Greg Jessup, 54, harried and hurried, pulled into a parking space at Green Meadow Mall at 5:58 pm on Friday, June 25—his wife Anita’s birthday. A birthday he had completely forgotten about until 5:16 pm when, having exited his tiny cubicle at Jacob, Christmann and Holmgren Certified Public Accountants, he got into his battered Subaru and checked his social media for the first time that day while waiting for the A/C to kick in. Scrolling through the usual collection of memes, pet pictures, and reposts, he stopped abruptly when he hit the first “Wishing you an AWESOME day, Anita!” entry, followed by a flood of similar posts. “Oh, SHIT!”

So instead of heading straight home to a cold beer and the comfy couch, here he was at the mall for an emergency gift and card. In the time-honored tradition of special occasion forgetting spouses everywhere, he decided jewelry was a safe bet. Anita loved those charm bracelet things that had been trendy a few years ago…what were they called? Panda something? Greg ducked into the first jeweler he came to and started wandering the cases.

He had just spied the collection of various dangly, shiny bits when the sales associate came over. “How can I help you today, sir?” Greg pointed to a little golden dog that sort of reminded him of their golden doodle, Max. “I’d like to see that one, please.”

The associate smiled as she unlocked the case. “Ooh, that’s a limited edition. A great choice, sir.” She handed the box over and he flipped the tiny price tag then choked. $250 for a CHARM? Not on his salary. “Um, did you have anything, ah, on sale, maybe?”

The smile slipped a bit. “You might try the clearance section in the back. Let me know if you need any further help,” she informed him as she briskly removed the box from his hand. After locking it back in the case she returned to the main counter area, leaving Greg to his own devices.

Following her suggestion, Greg located the discreet “Clearance” sign above a set of shelves hanging on the rear wall. No locked cases and velvet display pillows here, just a somewhat jumbled collection of odds and ends. He sighed, realizing his options were going to be limited. Still, jewelry was jewelry, right? He picked up a pair of earrings that looked nice. Pierced—were Anita’s ears pierced? He couldn’t remember. An amethyst and turquoise ring was appealing, but he had no idea if it would fit. The thick silver rope chain was a steal at just $35, but if it wasn’t solid sterling it would make Anita’s skin turn green. Just as he was about to give up and resort to flowers, he noticed the charm. Nudging it out from under some bangles, he examined the little golden heart. About the size of his thumbnail, it was etched all over with intricate scrollwork and inset with tiny red gems, probably garnets. The tag said $50, and it was even the same brand as the expensive dog. He was saved!

Scooping up his treasure, he hurried to the counter. The sales associate rang it up and, when he mentioned it was a gift for his wife, put it in a little velvet pouch then boxed and even gift wrapped it for him. “Funny, I don’t remember this one,” she said as she finished tying the bow. “But I’m sure your wife will love it!”

After a dash into the card shop for something large, pink, covered with glitter, and with “For My Beautiful Wife” emblazoned on the front in flowing, golden script, Greg got back into the Subaru and finally headed home. It was 6:48 pm when he pulled into the driveway. “Hey birthday girl, I’m home!”

Anita came out of the kitchen, looking surprised but pleased. “Oh my god, you REMEMBERED?”

“Well, of course I did! Here, happy birthday, baby!” Greg handed over card and box with a flourish. “For the best wife ever!”

Anita opened the card first. “Aw, honey, that’s so sweet!” She was so happy he had remembered at all that she didn’t even mention the fact he’d forgotten to sign it. It was the thought that counted, after all. Then she opened the box, untied the strings on the velvet pouch, and poured the charm into her hand.

“Oh, Greg, it’s gorgeous! You shouldn’t have!” Anita knew to the penny what every single collectible charm cost and this was one she had never seen before. That meant it had to be a “special” which meant EXPENSIVE. She positively glowed at her now very relieved husband. “Run up and get my charm bracelet for me, won’t you? I want to put this on right away. Oh, just wait until Diane and Kathy see this! They’ll die!”

Greg trotted upstairs to the master bedroom, grinning. He might even get a little something later, Anita was that happy. He got the bracelet from the jewelry box and came back downstairs to find Anita prying at the charm with a fingernail. “I can’t quite get the locket to open,” she said. “Here, you try.”

Locket? Greg hadn’t noticed it was a locket, but he figured his chances for romance later had gone up even more. Lockets were her favorite. “Hand it over.”

Greg pried at it as well, to no avail. “There must be a catch somewhere,” he muttered, examining it more closely. Then he realized one of the tiny garnets, exactly in the center of the heart and encircled by the scrollwork, was raised instead of set in. “Oh, I think I found it!” He pressed firmly on the stone and the locket sprang open.

***

And that’s how the world ended.

The old myths were only half right, you see. Pandora didn’t have a box. She had a bracelet, and on it was a single, heart-shaped locket.

No one knows how that locket ended up on a clearance rack at the Jared's in the Green Meadow Mall, when it had been lost for millennia. But there it was, just when Greg Jessup needed an emergency birthday gift for his charm collecting wife Anita. And when he opened it there was no ominous darkness, no crack of lightning, no creepy mists or roiling vapors; just a seemingly empty locket Anita filled with a lock of hair from their daughter Briony who had died of leukemia at age 9. They had their dinner and a little wine (and a little more wine) and Greg did indeed get lucky that night. There was no reason to think anything at all had changed.

But the next morning, Anita was especially bitchy, and Greg was unusually moody, and they fought off and on all day. That evening they had friends over for drinks, and Diane’s husband Tom accused Kathy’s husband Mike of having an affair with Diane. The night ended in a bloody fist fight and the cops being called. No one could believe it—they’d all been friends for almost 20 years.

Three days later, the postal carrier for their neighborhood came down with some kind of flu no one had ever seen before. He was dead in 36 hours. The CDC came to town and quarantine signs started going up.

On July 4, after days of constant screaming arguments, Greg murdered Anita then blew his own brains out. By July 15, Diane had succumbed to the new flu. Tom, grief stricken and still convinced his wife had been having an affair, ran Mike down with his pickup. The very next day Kathy climbed into the bathtub and slit her wrists.

Like ripples in a pond, the ills contained in the locket spread outward, ever outward, growing in amplitude as they went. There wasn’t a single apocalypse, no, but those infamous riders sure were busy: Pestilence—the new flu was just the first in a series of pandemics; Famine—new strains of fungus and swarms of insects decimated crops; War—conflicts seemingly sprang up everywhere at once, both old ones heating up again (Gaza) and new ones forming (the US-Sino Trade War); and of course, Death. Lots and lots of death. Inflation followed, the stalking hound at the heels of the Horsemen, and the global economy plunged into the deepest depression ever recorded. Civilization managed to carry on for a while but soon the cracks began to show. As disaster piled upon disaster and misfortune stacked on top of tragedy, order eventually devolved into chaos. Governments failed. Society crumbled.

That was five years ago. Humanity is now reduced to a remnant, haunting the husks of once proud cities like vengeful ghosts, or hiding in remote areas to avoid the roving packs of scavengers. Everywhere the strong prey upon the weak and the only law remaining is that of the jungle: survive, at any cost.

Welcome to the end of the world, brought to you by a clearance sale birthday gift.

This time.

Oh, yes, we’ve been here before. I should know; I’m the one who opened that locket the very first time. Then, as now, all I could do was watch in horror of what I had unleashed. Watch, and wait, and remember. That’s part of my curse, you see; the price I pay for the unrelenting curiosity that drove me to solve every puzzle, answer every question, open every door—or locket—even though I knew I should not. I will survive to see civilization rebuild itself, see humanity flower again, see evil be once more contained. And I will survive to see the locket resurface and be opened again, to see the world fall again. And again. And again.

I suppose it is meant to drive me mad.

But there’s one other thing the myths about me got wrong. I didn’t slam that locket shut before hope could get out. I slammed it shut before hope could get back IN. I left it out there in the world, where it’s needed. Hope is why civilization rises anew. Hope is why the cities are rebuilt. Hope is why art will flourish and science will advance, and why peace can take root in the most blood-soaked ground.

Hope is why I am NOT driven mad.

And so, I will watch, and wait, and remain here with my memories until next time.

I hope it will also be the last.