The Countdown

Chapter Ten~ This is Getting Real

The air was damp and musty. It was cold, and black tiles lined the floor. I shivered involuntarily. The door had opened up to a dark, narrow room.

It felt like a dungeon, the walls were lined with several marble shelves, full of black velvet boxes, each labeled with a surname and a date, going anywhere from one to ninety years back.
Birthdates, I inferred.

Abigail did slow three sixties in her place, mouth hanging open.

We split the room evenly, scouring the shelves for a box marked Everhart March 22 2089.

There were hundreds of boxes, and they seemed to be in no specific order.

Names began to blur together, some I thought I might have recognized, but I raced by so fast I couldn't be sure. by the time I had searched my fifth shelf things started looking pretty bleak.
How could I find my clock out of so many, and still have hope of stopping it in time?

One of the boxes practically lept out in front of me. Swiver February 4 2089.

Abigail.

Abby's clock was here, counting down along with all the others. Gingerly I pulled it from the shelf. The box was small, and surprisingly warm.

I'd give this to her, and, if by some miracle I survived today, maybe she'd live longer than eighty seven.

"Abby," I started to tell her about her clock, but the words died on my lips. I didn't know why, but something told me this wasn't the time. something began whirring .

Abigail and I met at the center of the room and slowly stalked towards the sound. It grew louder; more urgent.

We peeked behind a shelf. There was another room. It was bare except for one black marble table.

On it, sat several open boxes. The contents of one box shuddered, emitting another round of whirs.

The name read Quinn August 18 2079. The Clock inside flashed. The numbers clicked down.

00:00:04.

00:00:03.

Abby's eyes locked on mine. Realization struck and we panicked. We were stunned still, unable to move or look away.

00:00:00.

The clock gave one last shudder then grew still.

The clock had stopped.

Somewhere in town someone by the name of Quinn had just died.

We were numb. We examined the clocks as though a crime scene. The expired clock had combusted, now cracked and gnarled.

The others were silent, and still intact.

05:24:53, 11:07:19, 00:43:24.

All these people had less than a day to live. All of these clocks stopped today.

That meant mine would be there too.

It didn't take long for us to find my Clock. It was smaller than I had expected, fitting nicely in the palm of my hand. It didn't seem like anything special, just an average desktop digital clock.

It was hotter than Abigail's, as though burning up my life.

concealing it in my pocket, we backtracked without another word.

This was the most dangerous part of the plan. We had actually found my clock.

Now, we had a possible explosion on our hands.

((AN: Oops. Sorry for the short chapter. Anyways, hope you're enjoying))