The Witnesses

As night lay its dark shadow across the land, giving rise to a moon bright and full, the sleepy city of Applewood remained unaware of the meteoroid that hurtled towards the Earth from deep space. As it pushed through the friction of space, its outer core glowed hot with blistering speeds close to sixty thousand miles per hour. Millions of light-years ago, this tiny remnant of a planet was almost the size of Earth, traveling perpetually through the universe with an incontestable destination. Undaunted by its objective, it smashed through galaxies, obliterating all in its path. It had one purpose, one autotelic state, which was about to be realized. The inner core, no bigger than a bowling ball, was all that remained of the great planet as it hurled light-years through infinite space, smashing through the asteroid belt. If it hit solid ground, the impact crater would be huge, but not dreadfully so. As it cooled in dark flight, the last five miles to impact, its core makeup would prevent it from shattering, as is common with meteors that make it through Earth’s atmosphere. Made of matter never seen before by man, its properties were formed during the birth of the solar system itself, predetermined by those who came first. Packed inside its core, the dissolution of Earth.

Little five-year-old Maisy Cob sat inside the grocery cart, her nose streaming snot as she hacked continuously throughout the Qwiky Mart. Touching vegetables and fruits, she sneezed, wiping her nose on sleeves already caked with mucous. As her mother shopped and texted, little Maisy infected a nation. Tired, sick, and cranky from a day at the shops and hiking at Thatcher Park, all she wanted to do was go home.

Ten-year-old Marcus Williams lay awake in his bed listening to the sounds of laughter and other indeterminable noises coming from his mother’s room. He wondered who he would wake up to in the morning this time. A businessman in a suit and tie? A burly biker from The Hell Hole Bar and Grill in town? He looked around his room at all of his plants. He had numerous ivies and cacti along with a Wandering Jew and a gorgeous Flowering Maple. It was his hobby, but he never told anyone. His love of anything green was his own secret. He had books upon books of medicinal herbs as well and hoped someday to find cures for all diseases. He knew from reading about the rainforests, the cure for every disease on Earth could be found in plants. He also knew that if the other boys at school knew that he loved to grow plants, well, he would never live it down. He wondered if he would even be able to go to college the way things were in his house. From the living room, he could hear a news reporter on the early morning news:

“A strange streak across the sky this morning as witnesses claim a fireball hit near Altamont, NY in the tourist attraction of Thatcher Park, a natural gorge. The impact could be felt in the surrounding counties, leaving a cloud cover of ash and smoke that could be seen for miles. Authorities say that the area has been closed off for further investigation. In other news....”

Marcus was intrigued. A meteor maybe? Aliens? Getting up and dressed, he went to the fridge to get a drink, but as usual, the fridge was empty. Time to go scavenging. He was used to taking care of himself and getting pretty darn good at it, too. First stop, mom’s purse. He listened near her bedroom door to make sure there were no more noises and turned the knob. Opening the door was the hardest part. He pushed it open quickly to get past the one little creak the door had, cringing as it made a sound. Good, no movement on the bed. He tried not to look over at his mother, not wanting to see her in a compromising position. But he did, and he also saw the liquor bottles on the nightstand, the bag of pot, and numerous pills. She was out for the count. He loved his mom, but she had her own agenda and it didn’t include a ten-year-old.

He spotted her latest fling’s pair of pants on the floor and silently thanked God. They always had cash, the men she brought home. They better, because she didn’t come cheap. Getting down low, he crawled over to the crumpled pair of pants on the man's side of the bed and put his hand in the front pocket. Nothing there but a lighter and package of condoms. Gross. He tried the other pocket and found a twenty-dollar bill which he promptly stuck in the waist of his pajamas. Now the wallet. It felt fat, and he smiled. Opening it, he saw close to a thousand dollars inside. His heartbeat quickly, not expecting so much money. He froze when the man began coughing and moaning in his sleep, sounding like he was really sick. Great, now he and his mom would get it, too. Grabbing a good stack of bills, he crawled out of the room, smiling ear to ear. He was going to eat well today!

Twelve-year-old Misha Robertson sat in the principal’s office for the third time this week. Sullen and pissed off, she sat with her arms folded across her chest and a scowl on her face. Her lip, still bleeding slightly from the fight with Abigail Simmons, felt twice its size and throbbed incessantly. Screw her and her whole clan of rich bitches. No, she didn’t have a cell phone or wear UGGs, those nasty, ugly boots. She didn’t have a Coach purse or skinny jeans by Escada or Jordan sneakers. As she sat waiting for her rival to get back from the nurse, she heard a multitude of coughing, sneezing and the wet, viscous sound of mucus deep in the lungs. Gross. She never got sick, thank God. That’s one thing her mother used to say proudly before she died in the car accident. “My daughter is strong as an ox, never been sick a day in her life!” Misha smiled sadly at the memory. God, she missed her mom. As she was still smiling, Abigail came in with her big, fat, crocodile tears, bloody nose rag, glaring maliciously at her.

“Hi, crybaby, did ya get yer bottle from the nurse?” Misha taunted.

“Shut up, skank!” Abigail hissed. “You’re in big trouble!”

“Oh, really?” she shot back, “Do you mean I’m going to be sent home for five days to do whatever I want? Oh, gee, I guess I am in trouble, then.”

“Your such a scumbag, Misha, why don’t you do the world a favor and just kill yourself.”

“Nah, I think I’ll stick around a while and make your life miserable, Abby.” Misha sneered.

The principal called her into his office with a stern look on his face. Hiding a smirk, Misha followed after him, shooting Abigail the finger without turning around. Principal Hayes motioned for her to sit.

“Well, Miss Robertson, your beginning to be a fixture in this office,” he scolded her, “What do you have to say for yourself?”

She just sat there, ‘the look’ on her face, then answered him. “Mr. Hayes, I just got sick and tired of her bullying Mary Frye. It’s wrong. No one does anything around here to stop it!”

“Now that’s not true, Misha, our staff here at Applewood High has a strict policy about bullying and anyone caught doing it will have severe consequences!”

“But that’s just it,” she argued. “No one does see it! It’s like you all just turn a blind eye!”

“Seems as though out of school detention isn’t working so well,” he said. “I actually think you enjoy your little vacations. So this time, I’ve decided to try something different.”

He sat at his desk and wrote an address on a piece of paper. Handing it to her when he was done.

“I want you to report at this address tomorrow morning, nine o’clock sharp,” he ordered her.

“What the hell is this?” Misha said angrily, looking at the address. “This is ten blocks from my house! How am I supposed to get there, fly?”

“Walk, Misha,” he said curtly. “You’re young and healthy, so walk.”

“This is bull! What is this place, anyway?” she demanded, looking at the address.

A woman stuck her head into the office. “Sorry to interrupt, Mr. Hayes, but something is happening. Everyone is getting sick,” she informed him.

“So send them to the nurse!” he yelled, annoyed. Didn’t he have enough to worry about?

“No,” she insisted, ”everyone is getting sick, sir. They came in with colds this morning, more than thirty kids, and ten of the staff. Now they’re on the floor of the classrooms, sir, you have to come.”

Turning to Misha before he left with the secretary, He turned to Misha and said, “Show up there tomorrow, Misha, or I’ll put you on PINS.”

Misha sat there fuming. It wasn’t fair! She didn’t deserve to be punished, Abby did!

It happened so quickly, so spontaneously, the CDC didn’t even have time to issue a pandemic warning. The flu was vicious, brutal, its symptoms ravaging the human body in less than twenty-four hours. It started out as mild as the common cold with a scratchy throat, sneezing, and sniffles. Within thirty minutes, lungs filled with mucus causing acute respiratory distress and within an hour, death from suffocation. Hospitals closed down as doctors and nurses all became infected. Caregivers didn’t last long enough to be of any help. Foreseeably, the sequence of events that followed forced FEMA to set up flu camps in major cities across the US and Canada. Nicknamed the ‘Death Camps’, once you went in, you never came out. But there were strange rumors heard all over the world as people lay dying. Odd shapes seen by the sick and dying, shadows of tall, dark figures. Some called them Witnesses. Christians called them demons, and conspiracy theorists said they were aliens. The figures spoke in quiet whispers amongst themselves as they watched the fall of humankind

The sheer number of deaths was apocalyptic and as the lights went out one by one, a silence not heard for thousands of years fell like a dark curtain over Earth. Those few who remained immune numbered less than ten thousand, scattered over the world haphazardly. The sick lay dying and the dead so overwhelmed those left, they were buried in mass graves. The Witnesses continued to lurk in the shadows around the world, but now, no one cared who they were anymore. They were too busy dying.

Marcus broke into the back door of a small men’s boutique looking for clothes. His feet, sore from walking, needed new boots. Winter was coming, so he had to rummage up a coat and some warm clothes. He couldn’t stay in his house anymore, not with his mother and her boyfriend’s bodies still there rotting. He thought of all the places he could stay for the winter, but he needed to have a place with a fireplace. That way, he could just break up furniture or whatever he needed to in order to stay warm. Food wasn’t a problem, yet. He still had the whole city to scavenge. At least he wasn’t scared anymore.

At first, he was scared to come out of his house, thinking there was a zombie apocalypse. Then he realized he was being ridiculous, zombies couldn’t and didn’t exist. Instead, it looked like the whole wide world had died and he was the only one left. But he knew that wasn’t true, either. He saw them. The ones on the news, the Witnesses. He saw them following him one day as he went on his daily food run. He’d forgotten his backpack and whirled around quickly. He caught a fleeting glimpse as they ducked into the shadows of the doorway. Breaking out in chills, he ran into the house, afraid to come back out. He noticed after seeing them more often in his peripheral vision, they didn’t seem to have any inclinations towards harming him. They just, well, watched. Wherever he went, Marcus knew they would be somewhere near.

Misha sat on an old merry go round on the side of her old elementary school. Weeds had grown up through the faded, red slats of wood, squeaking like a rusty wheel in winter as it turned. With one foot pushing herself around lazily, she sat feeling sorry for herself in the morning sun. When everyone was dying, it felt like she was in a trance, detached and unemotional. She never saw her father, anyway, he was either working or out on a booty call. But now, she would have traded what little time she did had with him for anything in the whole world. It was better than this constant silence. No one cared if she was bad or good, no one cared if she did anything anymore. Except for the ones that lived in the shadows. They terrified her at first. They were tall, but she never saw any features. They just were. She didn’t feel threatened, either, just observed and studied.

Maybe because she didn’t get sick as everyone else did. Tears filled her eyes as she thought about everybody else. She was alone. She was only fifteen and she was all by herself now. She had to start thinking ahead like an adult. So what do adults think of? Bills. But there were no bills to pay now and no one left to pay them to. Okay, scratch that off. Food. She needed to find herself some food. That should be easy considering there were houses everywhere. Canned goods. If she found meat, it would be spoiled and putrid, so that was out. From the corner of her eye, she saw the shadow people leaning forward as she spoke out loud.

“Who are you?” she yelled out at them. “What do you want from me?” She saw them step back from windows and back behind trees. She heard their sandpapery whispers as they conversed among themselves.

“Did you do this to us?” she pleaded for answers. “Are you waiting for me to die? Well, I’m not dead yet! Do you hear me? I’m still here!!”

A murder of crows erupted from the trees as she yelled, startling her. At least the birds were still here, and she swore she saw a dog yesterday. But what scared her more than even the shadow figures, was the threat of big predators like pumas and wolves. Now that there were no people to drive them off, they roamed the cities without fear as they searched for prey. Applewood wasn't a huge city, nor was a town. Sort of in-between. Mountains rose on both sides of the town, and on the northern side, wilderness for miles. Yesterday, Misha spotted a large gray wolf by the school and knew what she needed. Standing up from the merry go round, she decided to try and find a gun shop. She knew of a sporting goods store over by the old Walmart, she’d try there first. Grabbing her bike, she rode the fifteen blocks to get there.

Marcus was lonely. It was so weird not talking to anyone or going to school. Why was he still here? Why didn’t he get sick, too? To make matters worse, he could hear the shady voices of the shadow people as they continued to follow and observe. He could never make out what they were saying, though, just the sound of whispers in between and underneath. One time he spotted them ducking into the shadow of an alley and decided to follow them. But when he ran to the alley, there was no sign of them. It’s like they read his thoughts, knew his intentions. After a while, he just ignored them. Marcus’ biggest complaint was boredom. There was no point to anything except staying alive.

As he walked, passing the old park where he would ride his bike and play ball with his friends, he thought about his future. There was no one to say he did a good job or tell him that it would be okay. The odor in the city was so bad from rotting corpses, he knew he couldn’t stay here long. He’d read enough books to know that the drinking water could soon be compromised with disease. Plus, he still had a pocketful of money from his mother’s partner, useless now. If he was in charge, he wouldn’t even make money. People wouldn’t be poor, he’d see to that. He would start a new government. No one would be in charge, really. Just good old common sense. Marcus knew that once people got a taste of power, things started to change for the worse. As he thought this, the whispers of the Witnesses grew louder, more intense.

“Hey! Shadows!” he yelled at them. “Talk to me! Stop whispering and talk to me!”

The silence that he took for granted now was shattered by a voice.

“Is someone out there?” a girl’s voice yelled back at him.

Startled to the point of almost peeing his pants, Marcus ducked into the shadow of the school. A person! A real live person! His hands shook as he debated on showing himself or running as far as he could run. What if there was actually a group pointing guns at him?

When Misha stepped out from the shadows of the school doorway, he almost fainted with shock.

“Are you alive?” he asked, wanting to kick himself for saying something really stupid. She was really pretty, too.

“Yea, you?” she answered, then laughed. “well, now that we’ve established that we’re both alive, my name is Misha.”

“I’m Marcus,” he said shyly.

Spontaneously she hugged him close. Embarrassed at first, he finally gave in to the hug, letting himself feel the pleasure of holding another human being in his arms. Though he was younger by a year or two, he was still taller than her. The hug lasted a long time, each of them savoring human touch.

Finally pulling apart, they listened as the whispers of the Witnesses grew with intensity. ′

“I think that we were meant to meet. Hear them?” she asked, “I think it’s what they wanted all along!”

“Who are they?” Marcus asked, “What do they want?”

The two of them sat against the wall of the school and fell into a conversation as if they’d always known one another.

“I think they were always here,” Misha theorized. “I think they either caused this or knew it was going to happen.”

’Is that why they watch us, though? I mean, why don’t they just communicate with us? Why all the hiding and whispering?” he asked.

“Maybe they wanted to see what we'd do. Remember the meteor that hit Altamont before everyone got sick?” she asked him. “I think that’s what caused the outbreak.”

“Yeah! I do remember it, now that you just reminded me!” he exclaimed, turning to look intently at her. “And your right. I went to school right after it happened and next thing you know, people were dropping like flies!”

“That saying is funny. ‘Dropping like flies’,” she laughed. “What the hell does that mean, anyway?”

He laughed with her, thinking it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard. Laughing felt so good and he took her hand in his without thought. She squeezed his back, happy to feel another human being. The whispers grew in intensity and they were almost overwhelmed by it.

“They’re happy, I think,” Misha said. “I feel it.”

“But why? Do you think that they meant for us to meet?” he asked her.

“I think it goes deeper than that,” she tried to explain, “I think that we, you and I, are meant to start things over.”

The minute she voiced her thoughts, the Witnesses grew quiet.

“See?” she validated. “They’re quiet.”

They both stood up, listening.

“Please come out and tell us what you want! Please show yourselves!”

A Witness stepped out from the shadow of the school and instinctively, Marcus stepped in front of Misha, shielding her from harm. As they watched, more Witnesses revealed their hiding spots, until they were surrounded. Marcus spread his arms out blocking Misha from stepping out in front of him. Terrified, they watched the faceless, featureless shadows come to life all around them. Then a voice echoed within their heads, and they listened.

“You have lost much, children,” the voice told them, “Misha is correct in her theory. You were chosen before your birth. We are Earth’s guardians. Witnesses, as you’ve named us. The planet is dying. We have returned to counterbalance man’s desecration of Waterworld before it’s too late.”

“Waterworld?” Misha asked out loud.

“Yes, only one of three hundred planets in the universe,” it explained, “Earth is a treasure that mankind was about to destroy. We had high hopes for you, but even before the birth of the High One, we knew that you were destined for wars and destruction. What is even more surprising is the number of humans starving on a planet rich with resources. The disappointment is overwhelming.”

’But why us? Why did you choose us to live? We’re just kids!” Marcus argued, perplexed by it all.

“We chose a select throughout the world who possessed certain qualities as human beings that we admire and this planet requires. Qualities we’d hoped for all of you. Misha, you possess an amazing empathy for others that is astounding, even though you, yourself don't know it yet. Marcus, your love for all that is green is a trait found in very few so young,” the voices told him. “it is imperative that each select human carry on to repopulate and teach these skills to their offspring. It’s how it should have been.”

“But how do we survive?” Marcus asked. “We’re all alone!”

“No, we will stay. We will be your guides,” they whispered gently. “It is going to be very hard at first. But you need to stay focused on your task.”

“What if we fail?” Misha asked them.

“There is no room for error, child. This is your last chance,” they told her. “A great flood eradicated mankind once and we solicited the help from a man called Noah and his family. But nothing was learned. You must document all you have seen and heard as a testimony to those who come after you.”

Marcus and Misha had a lot to ponder as the Witnesses faded into the shadows.

Misha started crying, so powerful was the message. This was really happening. It wasn’t a movie, they weren’t dreaming, and though there were others like themselves, they were halfway around the world.

“Misha, are you okay?” Marcus asked, “We are awake right?”

“Yeah, we’re awake,” She answered, wishing she wasn’t.

“So, when do you think we should start, you know, repopulating?” he asked her, his face a mask of seriousness.

Misha looked at him through her tears, shocked, till she saw the smirk he could no longer hide. Bursting out laughing, she took his hand and the two of them went off to prepare for the work ahead of them. Winter was coming and there was much to be done.

The Witnesses were pleased with their laughter. They would be okay. The race of humans made many mistakes, but hopefully, this one would be their last.