It's Not the End
of the World
by Aaron Rowley
"You
think they're going to notice?" Dr.
Schwartzwald's voice was muffled by his gas mask.
"That we
released a gas that's going to turn their lungs
to sludge?" I said.
"Yeah."
"Yeah, I
think they're gonna notice."
"Damn, I
was afraid of that."
As if they
heard us, a group of middle aged men in suits ran
up to the plexiglass window. They started to
scream at us and pound on the window. We couldn't
hear what they were saying, we just watched their
mouths move miming their panic. Their pounding on
the window sounded to us like a hollow, erratic
thumping. Blood began to drip from their mouths
and noses. They got a wild, crazed look in their
eyes. Their toupees began to slide off. They were
desperate to get into the room. I was glad that
the window was three layers thick and the door
could only be opened from inside. One of the men
coughed and sprayed blood across the window
blurring our view of the men in suits.
"Harris
is going to have my ass for this,"
Schwartzwald said.
"I think
that's Harris." I said nodding my head
toward the window.
"Really?"
Schwartzwald craned his neck as if that would
help him make out the faces of the silhouettes
pounding on the window.
I shrugged.
Schwartzwald
raised his short, round body onto his toes as he
tried to peer through the blood soaked glass.
Schwartzwald's white hair stuck out erratically
where it was shoved out of place by the bands
holding his gas mask on. The top of his head was
completely bald. It reflected a disturbing amount
of light.
Schwartzwald
sighed. His gloved hands rested on the table
behind him. Petri dishes were scattered across
the table top. The florescent lights were
especially blinding, the walls were a stark,
bright white.
I shuffled my
feet and glass from the shattered test tubes
crunched under my boots. I stretched my hands. My
hands were damp from the sweat trapped under the
latex.
"So...what're
we gonna do?" I asked.
"I don't
know."
"How long
is it going to take the gas to clear out?"
Schwartzwald
shrugged and rubbed his head with the back of his
wrist. "Three, four months maybe."
"You're
kidding, right?"
Schwartzwald
shook his head.
"So...what're
we gonna do?" I asked.
Schwartzwald
shrugged.
I sighed.
"How much gas is out there?"
Schwartzwald
shrugged. He looked down at the floor and
muttered to himself as he counted. "4...4
and a half liters."
I did the math
in my head. Depending on how long it took the gas
to get out of the building and which way the
winds were blowing, that was enough to kill
everyone from here to Canada.
I exhaled
slowly. The thumping on the window had stopped.
"So I
guess test tube bowling was a bad idea..." I
said slowly.
"Yeah,
looks like it." Schwartzwald said.
I sighed.
"Too bad. I was this close to a perfect game."
Schwartzwald
snorted, "You were going to choke. You
always do."
I laughed.
Schwartzwald laughed.
After a while,
we stopped. It got quiet.
"So...what're
we gonna do?" I asked.
"I dunno.
Wanna play 20 questions?"
I shrugged.
"Okay."
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