Can you feel the silence? - by HFA

Day 0

I take a sip of my drink and watch a video on Facebook. It’s a girl holding a blanket in front of her dog. The girl is fully behind it, then as she drops it she quickly disappears behind the door and as the blanket hits the floor the husky whimpers. I know what’s going through it’s head. It basically goes like this: “the fuck is my food, you stupid cunt?”

Raul taps me on the shoulder and disappears into an intolerably long discussion of probabilities of Mexico making into the next round. I nod. I smile. I sip. 

It’s Tori, Richard, Bob is half napping on a stool, Raul, Patrick, some other dude and me. And clearly Jay, in his flamboyantly Jamaican shirt, is rapping into his fist. None of us saw it coming. A flash. Then it sounded like thunder. And a second or two later day turned into night. I looked outside and it looked like we were drowning in oversized moths. Except they were not moths. It was just ash, everywhere, sticking to the windows, and if you could see through it - sticking to cars, poles, buildings, pavement. It was everywhere. 

I thought I was cool so I walked over to Bob and slugged him in the chin. He protested at first so I did it again. Then I lifted the divider and went behind the bar. Both Tori and Richard protested as well, so I stepped out and punched Bob again. Then I went back in and rummaged through the glasses and ice until I found a pitcher, and then I rummaged some more and got another pitcher. I opened the faucet and shoved the pitcher underneath it. Bob started showing signs of life so while the pitcher was filling up I went and I punched him again. 

I swapped pitchers and swiped a few bottles of liquor of the shelves. Raul was finally able to close his mouth so I gave him a pitcher and some bottles and lit up a cigarette. Outside was looking ashier and ashier. The guy that no one knew yelped “I gotta go”. He opened the door, the ash poured in and I almost choked, but he bravely stepped out and made it about 7 feet before he coughed himself to death. His body is still there and I pat him on the back for his efforts. 

Day 1

Richard is the first one to lose it. We have been in the basement for a bit less than 24 hours. We have water but no food. Plenty of alcohol. Jay is smoking weed nonstop, at this point I wonder if he actually understands what life is. I do. Richard starts kicking the trash cans and yelling something. Jay tries to console him but it goes sideways, they get into a fist fight. They both knock each other out and I just make sure that the bucket of water I hid is safe. 

Day 3

Bob cannot stop moaning and the vote is that we throw him out. He makes everyone else uncomfortable. Richard is hopping around - I suspect he smoked the rest of Jays stash. Jay is not doing that great. The lower left portion of his face is gone and he just keeps lying on the floor and gasping for air. 

Day 4

Jay is not moving. His face is no longer there. It resembles a giant plate of uncooked meat with a bunch of skin on the side. Tori is crying uncontrollably. The water has been exhausted, I was able to squirrel an empty pitcher away. It’s no longer empty, I have been pissing into it. When push comes to shove you do whatever you can to survive. I have never been so hungry in my life. 

Thank god for cigarettes. I sneak away to the area by elevators and light one up. I listen. We are way below the ground but I can hear the air blowing outside, spreading ash, spreading despair, spreading inevitability. I take a drag and check my phone. 2 percent, no calls, no messages, I wonder if my parents are alive, I wonder if their cat is alive, then I light up another cigarette. Two left. No messages. 

Day 5

Tori never woke up. Richard is asleep next to Jay. Jay is mostly gone by now. No water left. I started drinking my own urine, things could have been better. Two cigarettes left, 1% left on phone. One bottle of vodka left. This will be my final entry. If you are reading this - cherish your life, it could have been worse, much worse.

100%

It is a time to shine. I use all the force in my leg to get the door swinging. It opens up and for a change I feel fresh air enveloping me. It feels.. exhilarating, it feels like I was born anew. It feels fresh. I light up, I walk 20 feet to the right and smash the door in. It’s the corner store guy and he’s behind the register, greenish or blueish - it’s hard to tell. I get a pack of cigarettes and put them in my pocket. Something does not feel right.

I am probably the last person alive in Manhattan and if I had a dog I could pretend to be will Smith in his “I am legend” movie. Except this isn’t a movie. I light up again and cough uncontrollably. When I am done, my palm, the one I was coughing into, is red and moist. 

I walk along second avenue, a smoke in my right hand and a bottle in my left. I stumble a bit, but I can still do it. One more stumble and I can’t get up again. I chug out of the bottle and inhale to the fullest. It starts raining, but rains with ash this time. 

I get up and I feel.. incredibly light. I am so light I could just jump up and scale any building. It’s incredibly silent, no cars, not people, nothing. Is it possible to be so quiet, so empty? The ash is still here but I no longer mind it. I can breathe it in and not feel anything. I. Don’t. Feel. Anything.