A Glass of Merlot at the End of the World

On a train headed to nowhere, all the blinds were shut. Outside he steel walls and padded cars the world raged, a reminder that existence stood on the precipice. And for those inside the locomotive, this teetering reality could be blotted out by denial and the drawing of a shade. For now these passengers on fate's carrier were content to stall their inevitable fate as long as possible. For now they were content to lie.

A fierce scream from the earth shook the train to its core and nearly caused it to derail. For a few tense moments, all was still and the train's inhabitants collectively held their breaths. But then the threat was over, almost as quickly as it had come, and everyone went back to their distractions. As the train righted itself, Jackson Howell picked up his fallen newspaper. “October 30”, the date read, nearly five months ago. Five months of purgatory, he thought to himself bitterly as the door to his cabin opened, startling his musings. A young couple entered, arms around each other and lips locked tight. Jackson stared for a moment and then shook his head as his eyes wandered back to the newspaper. The couple, somehow managing to take their eyes off of each other for a moment and seeing Jackson, moved on and entered the adjoining car. “Don't forget to breathe!” He yelled after them, knowing his words would fall on deaf ears. Or do...more food for the rest of us. Sighing, he pulled out a cigar and lit it, taking a few puffs and savoring the sickly sweet flavor. At the end of the world he at least had his father's Cuban's to help ease his troubled mind. And the brandy, don't forget about that dear boy. Producing a flask from within the folds of his jacket, Jackson took a swig and relished the burn that the familiar liquor brought to his throat. Putting the libation down but not away, he focused on the headlines in front of him. Jackson knew each one off by heart but like most days he humored himself anyways and half an hour later turned the last page. He folded the paper neatly and put it under his seat for the next day's reading. Reaching inside his jacket again, he pulled out a small piece of paper and a pencil and marked a tally. 148 days. If he had to read about the Padres winning the World series one more time he was going to lose his mind. His angry, fragile, tormented mind. And he couldn't help but think that with the way things were going, that wouldn't be so bad.

Rachel Navarro stood with her hands clasped behind her back, watching in utter fascination as all that she had ever known was brought to heel in the wake of an unstoppable force. All anyone had ever known. It was only a matter of time now before the world literally caved in all around her and unlike many of the other passengers, she always had her blind open. Waiting to die, that's what many were saying and rightfully so. But, ever the optimist, she had chosen a different mindset right from the start. If the world was going to end then she was going to embrace it, not hide behind a thin piece of fabric that attempted to shield her from the truth. Rachel knew her sanity hinged on it so she watched and waited with deep breaths and shallow murmurings in her ear.

She had yet to meet someone on the train who she could talk to. Really talk to. Good conversation was at a premium it seemed and no one was willing to pay. Occasionally some unlucky soul, their mind having already succumbed to the numbing terror that comes with knowing one's end, would wander into her car and stand slack jawed at the uncovered window. They would remain like that, babbling like a child, until she ushered them out knowing from experience that there would be no helping them. Which made her think – which nightmare was worse: that of a crumbling world, or a faltering mind?

Rachel lingered for some time at the window, staring out into oblivion, until finally she decided she needed to stretch her legs. Grabbing her sweater from a nearby chair, she threw it on and slowly began making her way from car to car, from hopeless to terrified and back again. Finally she reached a car where panic hadn't yet taken a hold and the air smelled only a little of despair. And cigar smoke. She nodded to the familiar well-dressed man sitting at the far end of the car, a fat cigar hanging from his lips, and he did the same as she sat down. Exhaling loudly, Rachel closed her eyes and almost immediately opened them again. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. Not the frantic buzzing of the collective, the hollow speech of those who were simply waiting for the final scene to play out. Not the awkward cries of those who still had so much to give. And certainly not the ramblings of those whose once brilliant minds had already passed the point of no return. This new sound was bright and atmospheric and instantly transported Rachel to a place far, far away. Music, welcome my old friend. How long has it been? Dripping with warmth and vividness and might, the wordless melodies began to seep into her bones. This was a distraction worth having, one that was complex and beautiful enough to spend the rest of her short life pondering. Smiling, she closed her eyes again and let the finality of what was to come melt away in the sweet sonance of a song.

She didn't know how long she had been out but when she opened her eyes the room was noticeably darker. Faint light crept around the edges of the drawn blinds and it was quiet save for the usual groans and squeals of the train. At some point a few candles had been lit and a warm glow permeated the space making if feel quite cozy. Rachel looked over at the man at the far end of the car and saw that he was sleeping. As she watched the rising and falling of his chest and the twitching upper lip that wouldn't stop, she remarked how much he reminded her of someone that she used to know back in university. How did I not see it before? The train shook violently and the man jolted awake. Rachel quickly looked away as he pulled his glasses on and glanced in her direction. Yawning, he reached for a flask sitting on the seat beside him and took a long drink. As he began rifling through the stack of newspapers at his feet, an idea began to formulate in Rachel's mind. Silly perhaps, but maybe just the dose of fantasy that she needed as death prepared to welcome her to its ethereal halls. She just hoped the man would play along. He was, she believed, the last other sane person left alive.

“I'm Rachel. Rachel Navarro. Pleased to meet you.” Her voice broke the quiet but the man didn't look up as he responded without emotion.

“Jackson Howell. In another life I would say the pleasure is mine but, well, that's not where we find ourselves.” Undeterred, Rachel pressed on.

“Jackson, would you care to join me for a drink?” She held her breath as he looked at her quizzically and held up his flask.

“Already got one.”

“Oh, you mean that swill? Come now, I meant a proper drink.” Jackson raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

“I have a bottle of Merlot back in my cabin that I can be back with in a flash. Not the real high end stuff but a whole lot better than whatever it is you're choking down.” At this the man chuckled softly.

“Are you asking me on a date? Impeccable timing you have, Miss Navarro.” Rachel ignored his sarcasm.

“I suppose I am. Well, is that a yes or no? A girl needs to know.” She winked in his direction and he sighed, going back to his papers. After a lengthy pause he finally responded.

“Okay.” Grinning like a schoolgirl, Rachel promised to be right back with the wine. Why was she so excited? She didn't even know the man and she was racing back to her cabin as if her life depended on it. Then again, maybe it did. What was left of it anyways. And she was determined not to let despair take her a moment sooner. She quickly located the wine and two small tumblers and set them aside as she stripped out of her clothes and changed into something more elegant. Makeup was hastily applied, hair let down, and earrings put in as her feet fumbled to fit into different shoes. As she left her cabin, wine and glasses in hand, a cloud of perfume followed her and she hurried as fast as her heels would allow all the way back to the first date she was about to have in a long time.

Jackson fidgeted with his shirt with one hand and attempted to smooth down his messy hair with the other. Why had he agreed to such a silly idea? A date? Now? When love was the last thing on his mind and soon wouldn't matter anyway? With a woman he had only seen before, never talked to? He shook his head and did up the last button when the door to his cabin opened and Rachel walked in. Taken aback, all he could do was stare in disbelief as she set the wine down. Sure, she had been attractive before but in such a short time she had transformed herself into a woman of rare beauty. Her dress accentuated every curve of her body and her long hair hung seductively down past her shoulders. She smelled like citrus and spice and every step she took made him breathe a little faster. Maybe this wasn't such a bad idea after all. Running a hand through his hair one last time, he absentmindedly smoothed the creases in his shirt as he waited for her to approach. When she reached him, she held out a hand and he took it kissing it softly before releasing it reluctantly. She looked at him coyly for a moment before speaking.

“Jackson. You clean up nicely.” He laughed.

“Nothing like what I see before me. Please don't think me too forward but you look absolutely stunning Rachel.” She smiled and averted her eyes. Not knowing what else to do, Jackson walked up to her and took her hands in his, moving them both to the center of the room and began to dance. Startled, Rachel eyed him questioningly. Then he leaned over to whisper in her ear. “It's Strauss. He always compels me to dance.” She had been so focused on the date that she hadn't paid attention to the music that was playing. Smiling, she nodded and let him lead her through the piece. When it was over, the two of them slowly parted and made their way over to where the wine waited for them. Jackson offered to open it and Rachel obliged, watching him as he did so. He poured the ruby red liquor, handed her a glass and then went to his seat. Sitting much closer now than they had been earlier in the day, Rachel and Jackson swirled their drinks and began with awkward conversation. Soon, this turned into full fledged discussion and it didn't take long for either of them to forget about all that was happening outside of their own private little world. And then they both raised their glasses in a toast and indulged themselves with the first few sips of the wine.

The sky outside grew darker, the world edged closer to madness and the train threatened to go down at any moment but all of that suddenly seemed not to matter to two people on the first, and last date of the rest of their lives. At the end of the world, with a glass of Merlot in hand.