The Death Date

chapter one

The ocean and sky blended together. The sun was still tucked behind San Diego's horizon in the early hours of the morning, and it was the darkest it could ever get along the Silver Strand. For a brief moment in time, the city was enclosed in a void, and the sea and the sky were painted as one. I could drive and drive, and the dark, grey mass was nothing more than color.

The sun was due to rise soon, and once it did, its rays would cast light upon the void and show it for what it really was – a vast ocean resting beneath a vaster sky.

I preferred the gray mass. It was easier to understand.

The only lights on the Silver Strand were a few headlights behind me and a few brake lights in front. We were each headed in the same direction, and we would all be compressed together in a few minutes' time when we reached the gate. The only people traveling this early in the morning were on their way to Coronado Naval Air Station.

I didn't normally drive the Silver Strand to work, as I was usually coming from the east side of the city and used the Coronado Bridge instead; however, I enjoyed the drive along this sliver of land. Sometimes I wondered if I stayed the night at Nick's house mostly because this commute was preferable to my regular one.

Once all the traffic converged, I made sure to pull into the middle lane before the gate. I knew the guards that worked this lane entrance – or rather, I knew their death dates – and so I wouldn't be forced to hear one upon entering. Hearing people's death dates was never bearable, but it was incredibly debilitating in the early hours of the morning. I preferred my surroundings dull and dark, and hearing the day someone was going to die brought a colorful, clean swipe to life – ironic, I was aware. It made life seem real when all I wanted was to exist in my imaginary, gray void.

The gate guard, a woman with creamy skin and crisp blue eyes, took my extended ID, glanced over the image, and then crouched to scan over my face. Our eyes locked, which, if I hadn't already been given her death date, would have been a surefire way I would have heard it. The woman smiled and handed back the plastic card.

"Have a nice day, Ms. Wright," she said.

Taking my foot off the break, I said, "You too." I then zipped down the road towards the east side of the Naval Base.

After pulling into the parking lot, I exited my car to stand along the edge of the San Diego Bay, and I could see the USS Carl Vinson – a massive aircraft carrier – silhouetted against the lights of the city across the water. A gentle breeze washed over my pale skin. After locking my car, I gathered my copper hair and secured it with an elastic tie. Another day, and though it was early, I had been spared hearing any death dates so far. I silently begged whomever was listening that the trend would continue.

The Morning Grind was illuminated from within, and I knew Jackie was already tackling the morning chores. I glanced at my watch, which read five to five. She must have gotten here a while ago, but I wasn't surprised; Jackie was the assistant manager with hopes of running her own store, and it drove her to the highest level of go-getter. I also wasn't complaining. Life on base started early, and I'd soon be up to my eyeballs in coffee orders. Anything she did before opening helped immensely.

Just as expected, the familiar and contrasting smell of soapy cleaner and brewing coffee seeped into my nose as I opened the door. All the chairs had been arranged around tabletops, and when I rounded the corner towards the counter, I spotted Jackie behind the display case glass. Her full, bright pink mouth was pinched and her dark eyes focused as she arranged the many muffins, bagels, and breakfast sandwiches the Morning Grind offered.