Mageblade

One

            Clattering and rushing footsteps accompanied the sounds of screaming, swearing and crying outside Lourdes' door. Clutching her trusty aluminum bat once autographed by Derek Jeter, she flung open the front door to find several neighbors scurrying to pick up their belongings in a frenzy of panic. It looked as if old man Peterson had collided with the Cheng family on the stairwell and was hurling racial slurs at the family who'd only just arrived in the country a few months ago.

"Ay, Peterson, cállate ya! What's with all the racket?"

The old man puffed himself up and glared at her. "Young lady, this is America, you will speak English!"

Lourdes stared into his watery eyes. "In a few hours, there won't be an America, viejo. This is our last night on Earth, you think you can manage to not be an asshole for once?"

Peterson gaped at her for a moment then looked at the wide-eyed young family; their arms filled with dilapidated boxes and grocery bags.

"Or are they just not leaving the country fast enough?" Lourdes sneered.

The old man glared at her again before stomping down the stairs and slamming the door in a huff.

"Xiexie." Mrs. Cheng said, her husband smiling briefly.

"Won't you come, Miss Figueroa?" asked their 8-year-old son, Tommy.

Lourdes smiled, sadly. "No mijo, I'm fine here."

"But the monsters are coming. They'll get you if you don't go!"

"Nah, I dare them to try when I've got this with me." Lourdes hefted her bat.

Tommy looked skeptical and with good reason. Lourdes knew the bat would do no good but she didn't want the child to worry. She didn't know how much he understood and how much, if anything, his family was keeping from him but it wasn't her place to frighten him with the facts. She took a few parcels from Mrs. Cheng who was also jostling a newborn and helped them downstairs and into the car. As she waved them off she realized that poor baby didn't stand a chance in Hell, none of them did really, but the baby only had a few days in this world. Given the state of the place perhaps this was a blessing.

Screams reverberated off the blackened walls of burnt out high-rises accompanied by the sound of gunfire just down the street. Plumes of smoke drifted leisurely into a sky yellow with haze. The once bustling neighborhood was so deserted Lourdes half expected to see a tumbleweed roll down the street. It was just her here now, just her and the monsters. Lourdes shivered and returned to her apartment.

"...as armed forces fall back against the ongoing threat officials remind everyone that shelters will be closing promptly at nightfall, that's 30 minutes from now. Everyone is urged to take shelter either at one of the designated facilities scrolling across the screen or barricade in your own homes or businesses..."

"Take shelter," Lourdes snorted, "what the hell for?"

The 25-year-old turned her back on the TV. She was tired of seeing endless footage of servicemen being slaughtered by the dark mysterious demons that suddenly appeared to lay siege to the planet every night. Instead, she stood by the window and watched the sun set for the final time. Lamps blazed from every corner of her studio apartment with daylight bulbs scavenged from homes long abandoned by her neighbors. Lourdes chuckled bitterly. Why did they run? To where does one flee from the end of the world?