Seeking a friend for the end of the World

The bat crashed through the window of the abandoned car, its glass splintering into a hundred pieces, the sound small compared to the blaring alarm echoing through the abandoned street. Cars were the worst nuisance in his world. Orphaned, their owners claimed by the catastrophe, any small movement would set off their anti-theft alarm. With their changed circumstances, silence was everywhere and any loud sound jarred the peace. 

Nothing was more jarring than these annoying cars.

He unlocked the door, pulling it open to rummage underneath the steering wheel. There was always some sort of wiring there that, when tweaked, stopped the noise. With his favorite machete clutched securely, he cut through the wiring, the sound muting as suddenly as it had started.

Silence. Finally.

Blissful silence.

The bat fell from Adam’s suddenly numb fingers. The silence was as much his friend as his enemy. Relief that was flooding through his system was quickly replaced by despair.  The loss of civilization would drive anybody mad.

He missed the throng of people.

The chatter of gossiping ladies.

The grunts of rude men.

The giggles of happy children.

He would give both his hands to be surrounded again by society. Cruel, judgmental, self-centered society that only ever looked down upon him would be a much needed change.

He looked up from the scattered remains of the glass to study his surroundings. Standing in the middle of what was once the busiest street of his city, Adam felt a strange anger take hold of him. It spread its fiery flames throughout his body, fisting his hand.

It was grossly unfair. Everyone was gone, forever.

With a furious roar, Adam bent to retrieve the bat, before slamming it onto the bonnet of the car.

Again and again.   

"Dammit," he cursed loudly. 

"Yeah, Dammit!" said Dave, standing next to him, calmly studying his nails. 

"Cursing is so old world," added the woman, studying her reflection in the side mirror of the ruined car. 

Adam breath was labored as rivulets of sweat ran down his back. He glared at his companions. "You're not helping," he pointed out. 

"I'm sorry, were we supposed to jump on the sunroof of that car?" asked Sheila, rolling her eyes. "Nobody sent me THAT memo," she pouted. 

Dave grinned in her direction, before cautiously moving away from the broken glass. "You need to conserve your strength." 

Sheila snorted. "I think he needs to find a woman." 

"Shush," Dave snapped, before pushing Adam towards the line of stores down the street. "We need to get clothes and food," he reminded the group. 

Adam let out a frustrated breath. “Dammit!”

“That doesn't get old,” said Sheila, rolling her eyes.

Adam ignored them, concentrating instead on his latest dilemma. He'd have to steal again. 

Bat clutched firmly, he walked up the street and into the Armani store, his group mates trailing behind. There were disadvantage of surviving the apocalypse but good clothes weren't on that list. He was much better dressed now than he had ever been in the old world. That didn't mean it didn't rankle him that he was, in essence, stealing the clothes.

In the old world he used to be a street bum with no place to call his own. He had lived a hard life, surviving by being quick witted and fast. Years of those instincts were probably the reason why he was still alive. 

"Those guys sure know how to make pants," said Dave.

Sheila snorted. “Knew honey,” she corrected. “They knew how to make pants.”

Adam sorted through the racks, looking for something ordinary, something cheap. He didn’t like the idea of stealing from the store. Even though manners were the first thing humanity forgot after the apocalypse, walking into a posh store and helping yourself to the goods was  still incredibly rude. Rudeness wasn't his most heinous crime.  Yet something about the bleakness of their circumstances.

It reminded him, in no uncertain terms, that the world had truly changed.

“By all means take your time. What else do we have to do but pander to your vanity?,” Sheila called out.   

“Quite,” Adam warned, growling.

“Cool it you two. We’re probably the last people on this earth. We don't want to kill each other and be the punch line of a bad joke.”

Adam ignored them again. He stripped quickly, his movements efficient and brisk. Wasting no time, he picked the first shirt on the rack and buttoned it. He strapped his gun to his back, put the pocketknife away and picked up the machete and bat, before walking out of the store. 

He had scouting to do. His food supplies had been running low and if his time on the streets had taught him anything, it was that food was always top priority. His pace quickened, as he made his way towards the food store. 

He was checking the expiry date on a batch of packaged cheese when he heard the bell over the door chime. His eyes closed in annoyance. He had forgotten how troublesome people could be. Before the last thought was complete, the bane of his existence, useless couple of the century, Dave and Sheila walked around the corner.

They had clearly helped themselves to some free clothes.

Adam's lip curled in disgust. The Armani store had been robbed of a three piece suit. Call him crazy but he didn't see the point of being well dressed for the apocalypse.

“Did you have to clean them out?” He snapped. For days the couple had followed him around, like groupies of rock stars. Except they were more annoying. They grumbled about everything. EVERYTHING and depended upon him for food, shelter and protection.

He was a loner and they were driving him crazy.

Sheila raised her eyebrows. “What’s the matter tough guy? Developing a conscience?”

“Sheila,” Dave warned softly.

“No. Let me speak,” she told him before turning to Adam. “Do you think you’re squeaky clean? Who made you an angel? Your precious conscience is prickling so badly, why’d you take the shirt huh? And why are you in this store looking through food? Are you going to throw coins into the cashier’s box? Will you write out an IOU? Ha big guy”

“Sheila-“

“No. Don’t try and pretend to be the ‘good guy’. You were a thief even before everything went bat shit crazy. Did you think twice about the woman whose purse you ran away with? Did you question your actions when you carried that TV out of the old couple’s house? Where was your conscience when you put a mask on your head and robbed that bank? Ha?

Face it dude, you’re a thief. Always have been. Only now you steal for survival and not to support your substance abuse problem. And you know what, nobody even cares anymore. Who is going to come and handcuff you if you steal a bloody shirt? Do you see anyone here besides us?”  She threw her arms out, raising her head to the ceiling. “Hello? Anybody here? We’re stealing your precious cheese. Mall cops? Hello?”

Dave put a hand on his wife’s mouth, effectively muting her. “Shush,” he admonished, throwing an apologetic look at Adam. “You know you need the food and the clothes. You know you need them for survival. Stop making it about guilt when there is no need to.  We won’t be around all the time.”

With those words, their form disappeared. Slowly, in a cloud of smoke, both humans evaporated into thin air. One minute solid, real and the next minute they were imaginary.

Like always, Adam’s hands flew out to clutch at the smoke. But imaginary friends didn’t hang around forever. His hands fisted, the loneliness taking over again, killing him silently. He crushed the cheese and threw it forcefully.

The loss of civilization would drive anybody mad.

“Dammit!”