I turned on the radio, but the only station that was coming in
was screaming fire and brimstone, then the power went out. With a heavy sigh I
wheeled myself through the books, and broken glasses, and other knick-knacks
that had tumbled to the floor. Once I reached the front window I peered out.
Yup, it was the end of the world all right. The sky glowed orange and I counted
at least five plumes of black smoke slowly darkening the horizon. Across the
street my neighbors were running frantically to their car. This was my chance,
I threw open the front door, but just as I called out to them, something fell
from the sky and landed on their house. What had once been a two-bedroom, one-bathroom
ranch with a white picket fence, was now a smoking hole in the ground.
This wasn’t good.
I rolled my wheelchair back through the debris field that
was my living room and stopped at the base of my stairs. As I sat there trying
to decide if I should try and crawl my way up the stairs for my go-bag, my back
door flew open with a concussive blast. Or at least that was what it sounded
like, but it turned out it was actually my boyfriend, who had a bad habit of
not only slamming doors shut, but slamming them open as well.
“Oh thank goodness
you are okay!” he exclaimed as he came flying into the living room.
“Yeah, I’m fine John, but I can’t get upstairs to get the go-bag,
and I certainly can’t drive the car.”
“That’s why I ran straight here, I knew you would need
rescuing.” he said as he bent down to hug me.
“Yeah, that and you don’t have your own car to escape in,” I
replied as I pushed him away, “now stop this nonsense, go upstairs and
get my go-bag, and let’s get out of here already.”
With the go-bag in hand John scooped me out of my chair and
whisked me off to the car. Once we were safely buckled in, John put the key in
the ignition, and turned it. Nothing happened, the battery was dead.
“I guess that’s what happens when you don’t drive for a
month.” I said with a shrug.
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