How I Saved Humankind
by Debra Kraft
Of course you won't believe me. Why should you? Nobody does. Who am I to say I saved the world? I saved humankind? I'm nothing more than a blip in eternity, an infinitesimal little no one, a nothing. I work at a gray desk in a gray cubicle in a gray concrete building in a city full of gray concrete buildings filled with gray cubicles and gray desks. It's a pretty safe bet to say I will never occupy a corner office.
And yet, I did it. I saved humankind.
There's no denying it was Armageddon. I don’t bother to pay attention anymore, so I don't know what the scientists are saying about it today, how they're rationalizing stuff that simply can't be rationalized--not with physics, anyway. It wasn't a black hole or a wormhole or any other kind of hole. It was the Abyss. I know, because it almost had me.
I was sitting at the kitchen table, reading the evening paper and wondering just how it is that politicians can be so slippery not even a 'caught in the act' video can stick them with the tiniest modicum of accountability, when I decided I needed something to drink. I guess I just needed to rinse out all that crap that got stuck in my mouth since there was no one around for me to blab it out to. I stood up, and before I even opened the bottle--hell, before I'd taken one step toward the counter, I got dizzy. It felt like the world was tilting beneath my feet.
Of course, that's exactly what it was doing. But it wasn't just tilting, it was being drawn into the Abyss. I'd never been in an earthquake, so, you know, maybe I might have thought that's what was happening, seeing as how I had nothing to compare the experience to. But I never did think that. I'm no expert, but I know enough to know during earthquakes the earth actually quakes. It moves. It shakes. It doesn't just tilt.
I ran to the front door. I must've looked like a drunken sailor the way I sort of zigged and zagged through all that tilting. But then I got there, and I yanked the door open...and the most amazing things were happening outside. Trees were leaning backwards--or, since I can't really say whether trees have fronts and backs, maybe it's better to say they were leaning towards the back of the house. Cars were sliding sideways. And the house across the street looked like it was reaching for me.
When I saw people running, I thought it was probably better to join them than not. So I started running too. I left the door wide open and sprinted down the street--or up the street; I'm not entirely sure which direction it was. All I know is we were running away from the pull. I don't think any of us knew exactly what it was we were running from, but we all pretty much knew we didn't want to know, and we sure as hell didn't want to let it come and grab us.
And that's when the big birds got there. They were flying over our heads, a whole flock of them so big and thick they blotted out the sun. At least, I’ve decided to think they were birds. Really big ones, some white, and others black. I heard someone shout something about mothmen. Someone else shouted out about angels. I’m not expert enough to say which of them was right. All I know is they were big, and they were flying over our heads, and the black ones scared the hell out of me so I thought it best to just try to ignore them.
Then there came a point when I just couldn't run anymore. That thing that was pulling at us, it started to grab my legs--okay, not in the literal sense. It didn't have hands or fingers or anything like that. I just couldn't step forward anymore, no matter how hard I tried. It was like this big, giant magnet was at my back and I was nothing more than a pile of steel. I finally decided to turn around to see just what the hell was sucking me in, and--damn. That's what it was. Hell.
People, dogs, cats, trees...everything was flying backwards, or flying back towards the back of where my house used to be. It was like someone turned a Texas-sized tornado sideways, and I was looking right into the tail.
