The End of the World, For Real This Time 

“Where are you” 

I felt my phone vibrate in my back pocket, and pulled it out to reveal that text, devoid of punctuation. I immediately felt sick to my stomach. 

“By the school, I needed to get some air. What’s wrong?” I responded, before continuing down the trail, my feet blending with the leaves and twigs lining the forest floor. The same ones that had lain there throughout winter, frozen in place. 

“Where” 

The abruptness of the word sent chills cascading down my spine. I glanced around to orient myself. 

“By the swing set?” 

“I’m coming to you, don't move.” 

The urgency the message conveyed left no room for discussion. I found myself perched on one of the swings, curiosity about the situation pooling in my mind. I began swinging slowly, looking up to see the trees shifting above me, a canopy of green backlit by the grey of the clouds. Closing my eyes, I let the air fill my lungs, and felt myself relax ever so slightly. My hand loosened its grip on the swing’s chain. 

Before long I heard the rhythmic crunch of leaves, someone… Or something, I suppose, drawing closer. I almost wished it were a bear or a mountain lion. I had a feeling that either would be easier to deal with than whatever was coming. Regardless, I turned to meet my potentially bloody demise, and was met with the face of my boyfriend of the past six years. It was a face I’d come to know probably better than my own, but it was seldom I saw such dread and concern lining his familiar features. He walked up to me silently, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his jeans. 

“If you wanted to come with you could have just told me,” I said with a weak grin, hoping to dispel the somber mood. 

“Sweetheart… Something happened.” His words sent fear ricocheting throughout my chest, and my mind began spinning with possible casualties. 

Granny is all the way in Florida. Could she have fallen?

Could Rebecca have gotten into an accident? She only got her license a few months ago…

Maybe Uncle Dick’s gambling finally caught up with him.

His deep inhale shook me from my thoughts, and I sat waiting for him to continue, my entire body now stiff as stone. When he didn't speak after a few endless moments I decided to coax him along.

“Love, just tell me what’s going on.” 

“This is going to sound absolutely ridiculous. I wouldn’t have believed it myself if I hadn’t seen it on the news, and even then, I thought it was a hoax. But it’s real and I found out too late and…” 

“David, stop,” I interjected, still having no clue what he was going on about, but my pulse rising nonetheless. “Start over. You're not making any sense.” 

He inhaled again, letting his entire chest expand with the effort, his eyes falling closed briefly. 

“There’s a comet. They’re calling it Mors or something like that, and it’s going to break the earth's atmosphere. Actually, it probably already has.”  He took a moment to collect himself before proceeding. “The Near-Earth Office, Planetary Defense, the NASA one, miscalculated its trajectory. It was a simple error done because of some mishandled data but, fuck, Alex.” He ran his hands through his hair frantically, his usually calm nature quickly falling apart around him. 

“It’s supposedly only going to take out most of the East Coast, if we’re lucky.” 

I sat in shocked silence for what I soon realized was far too long. 

“Holy shit we have to go,” I announced, springing up. 

“We won’t make it, it’s too late.” 

“I don't care. I’m not dying on my middle school playground.” I grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the parking lot. He followed me, but reluctantly. Too much so. I stopped and turned back to him, cupping my hands on either side of his face and willing his deep brown eyes to meet mine.

 “Love, we have to try.” 

I scanned the parking lot in search of an available vehicle, and soon spotted a rickety Ford pick-up with rust eating away at the edges. I recognized it as the school janitor’s truck, though the janitor himself, Mr. Nelson, was nowhere to be seen. I looked around frantically in search of an alternative, and found nothing besides a few abandoned bikes and wayward skateboards. I remembered how crotchety and rude Mr. Nelson had been in middle school, treating kids with the same attitude he did with the rats in the broom closet. Suddenly devoid of hesitation, I walked over to the truck, David close behind. 

“How do they unlock cars in movies? We need a coat hanger, or wait, I saw someone do it with a belt once. Shit, then we have to figure out how to hot-wire it.”

David walked around to the passenger side door and opened it with ease, the only resistance being the patches of corrosion grating against each other. He quickly slid onto the peeling leather seat and closed the door again behind him.

“Oh,” I whispered to myself, feeling my face grow hot. “But how are we going to start it?”

 David pulled down the visor and a ring over-flowing with keys tumbled down, jingling into his hand. 

“Apparently with these,” he answered, holding up the key labeled Ford with a small grin. I stifled my embarrassment and jumped into the front seat. I grabbed the key and thrust it into the ignition, praying there was still gas left in the tank. I chuckled a bit in surprise as I saw we had about half a tank left, and glanced at David to see the same surprise lighting up his face. I shifted into reverse and pulled out of the parking lot, before gunning it down the narrow road, fear of legal ramifications dissolving more with every mile.