The End Is Now

PENANCE Jake Kerr

Samuel Esposito couldn’t escape the faces that haunted him. The captain established dining hours at set times, and no matter when he went to the galley to eat, someone was always there. He asked the captain if he could be served in his cabin, which got him an angry look and the response of, “We’re not your fucking servants.” He tried going late; he tried going early, but the two-hour windows to eat were set in stone. If he missed it, he didn’t eat. Sam skipped breakfast and did his best to skip one of the other meals.

In the end, however, he couldn’t avoid the faces of his fellow passengers, all of them full of hope as they fled the asteroid on a collision course with North America. Yet that very same hope had lived in the faces of all the people the moment before Sam had sentenced them to death. Sam tried to convince himself that his job before he was evacuated on the ship wasn’t evil. He was simply a messenger. The Expatriation Lottery was fair, and he was simply letting people know the results.

But it was evil. Everyone came in with hope. But then Sam would give them the news, and they would leave with none. Emotionless, hopeless faces. Practically dead already. Their appointment with Sam was an appointment with death, despite the professionalism and sympathy.

The appointments had been every fifteen minutes. His boss had told him to act professional but sympathetic. Stick to the facts. Provide tissues if necessary. Don’t be afraid to hit the panic button if the client becomes violent.

That’s what he had called them: clients—the citizens who had come in, sat down or paced the room as they waited to hear their fate. Sam let them do whatever made them the most comfortable, but in the end there was no real comfort, only the extremes of fear and hope. Sam would then tell them whether they had won the Expatriation Lottery and would be sent to Europe or Africa or somewhere else. Where didn’t quite matter; the winners would be free to live. But the others—the losers—had been told they had to stay in North America and wait for the asteroid to kill them. There just weren’t enough planes or ships to take everyone.

The ones who lost: He had pulled up their results on his computer before they entered and knew that he was about to deliver the most horrific news possible. Sam had done his best, but that moment when the face went from tightly wound hope to total desperation tore a bit of his soul away each time. He would want to look away, but he couldn’t; he had to be there for them, a warm and friendly face—even though he wasn’t a friend; how could he ever be a friend?—in their darkest moment. It was his duty.

Thousands. There were thousands of people who had listened, their faces so full of hope as Sam said, “I’m sorry, but you have not been chosen to emigrate.” But Sam himself would never have to face that moment; as a government employee, he didn’t have to take part in the lottery—he had been exempt and was therefore automatically one of the lucky ones.

He had been one of the last to flee North America, with the asteroid already visible in the night sky. He and eleven others were to be squeezed onto an oil tanker with a crew of twenty-four. Thirty-six souls and one million barrels of American oil, escaping the Meyer Impact.

When the day came and he had been told it was his turn to emigrate, Sam grabbed a bottle of bourbon he had saved and did nothing but drink big gulps between anguished sobs. Eventually he was too drunk to cry or too drunk to know if he was crying. He woke not remembering the last few hours of the previous night.

Those were the best hours of his recent life.

There was only one person in the galley for dinner. The blonde woman. Sam didn’t know her, but the captain called her Barbie. Sam sat down on the other side of the room with his back to her. He had just taken a bite of his hot dog when a tray slid along the table in front of him and the woman sat down.

“Hi, I’m Alex.”

Sam stared at his food. “Sam,” he replied.

“Nice to meet you, Sam.” Alex held out a tan hand with exquisitely manicured nails. Sam shook it but didn’t say anything. She had a firm grip. After a few moments of silence, she added, “Are you afraid of the ocean?”

The question seemed to come out of nowhere, and Sam almost glanced up in confusion. “What? No. Why would you think that?”

“It’s just that we’re already halfway across the Atlantic, and you’re never out on deck with the rest of us. You just stay in your cabin.”

Sam didn’t reply.

Alex let out an “Oh!” then reached across the table and touched his hand. “You know, there’s nothing to be afraid of. We’re safe. In fact, the asteroid is close enough that you can see it clearly, and it’s really not that bad.”

Sam pulled his hand away.

“It’s actually quite pretty now if you think of it as a celestial body that just wants to be with us on Earth.” She leaned forward. “Be honest, don’t you think it’s pretty?”

Sam couldn’t not glance up. “Pretty?”

He turned away, but it was too late. He’d seen her face. Sam closed his eyes and shook his head, but when he opened them he was back in his Expatriation Office. The blonde woman was there.

She wasn’t there.

She was there.

They were all one.

“Yes. Do you think I’m pretty, Samuel?” The question surprised him. He had only been a Lottery Counselor for a few days and thought he had been asked every possible question, but this was new. He looked up at her. She was blonde, with a round face and bangs. She was beautiful in a girl-next-door kind of way.

“You are very pretty,” Sam stammered and then stood up. “I’m sorry, but I have another appointment. Please remember that the Grief Counselor is down the hall.”

The woman stood up, but rather than move toward the door, she approached Sam and fell to her knees and grabbed his legs. He considered pressing the panic button, but then she said, “Sam, would you like a blowjob?”

He stepped back and stumbled over his chair.

“Would you like me to give you a blowjob every night? I would do that for you. I would do that for you whenever you want if you just go to your computer and change my status.”

Sam shuffled backward around his chair as she reached for his crotch. “Please, Sam. Just think, wouldn’t it be nice to wake up with your cock in my mouth?”

Sam pressed the panic button as he maneuvered his chair between himself and the woman. (Elizabeth Mary Conroy. He would never forget the name.) “Please, Ms. Conroy. I can’t help you. I can’t change anything. I’m just a Counselor.”

Elizabeth stood up and started unbuttoning the top of her pants. “Would you prefer to fuck me? You could fuck me, Sam. You could fuck me right now.”

“I can’t help you. I’m so sorry.” The words came out as a whisper, but the woman heard them. Her hands fell to her side as the door slammed open and Terry, the security guard on duty, entered.

Looking over at the guard, Elizabeth finally cracked. Up until then she had been speaking in a calm, even seductive, voice, but now that fell away to raw desperation. She threw herself forward, wrapping her arms around him. “Please save me, Sam! I have twin girls. They’re only three years old! Three! Don’t let us die!” The words came out in sobs directly in Sam’s ear as he held her up.

“Sorry, Sam,” Terry said as he pulled Elizabeth off him, her hands clutching Sam’s shirt and pulling him along with her. “I’ll get here faster next time.” Terry grabbed the woman’s wrist and pulled her arm violently toward the door.

He finally untangled them, and she looked up at Sam. “My girls don’t deserve to die! Please save them.” Before she could say anything else, Terry pulled her out of the room. She glanced over her shoulder, and the look staggered Sam. She had reached the obscene point where she had accepted that she and her children were going to die, and all Sam could see was pure and utter loss.

Sam closed his eyes and shook his head.

He opened them to the screech of a metal chair pushing back from a table, and when Sam looked up, the blonde woman, Alex, was gone. He lowered his head and went back to his meal. Thankfully, no one else entered before he finished.

On the way back to his room after lunch he stopped by the communal bathroom to wash his hands. Thankfully it was empty. There was a large mirror above the sink, but Sam did his best to not look at it. He couldn’t reconcile the face he saw in the mirror with those that surrounded him. The grief, the loss, the desperation. He saw it everywhere except in the mirror.

It wasn’t right.

He dried his hands and looked up. He wasn’t a bad person. He had done nothing wrong. He was a messenger. He couldn’t save people, and he couldn’t condemn them either. He was innocent. I’ll live because I did a difficult job that had to be done. He forced a smile, but seeing it reminded him of a skull’s grin. I’ll live, but they won’t.

Sam lowered his head and turned on the tap. When the water from the faucet was ice cold, he splashed it onto his face. He looked up at his reflection. I’m not one of them. I’ll live. I should be grateful. Droplets slid down his cheeks. He splashed more water, hard, against his face, against his eyes. Why am I not one of them? He splashed hard again and again until he was slapping his face with his hands, not even bothering to make the excuse of putting water in his palms. Finally, his face was red, raw, and his hair hung down limp. It illustrated a pain that was familiar, almost comforting.

He walked back to his cabin. The asteroid was to impact North America tomorrow.

It was late the next day, and Sam had managed to ignore his hunger and remain in his room. The idea of looking at another person filled him with dread, so Sam didn’t reply when there was a knock on his door.

There was a pause, and the knock was replaced by a pounding that felt like it shook the room. “Sam, everyone on deck. Captain’s orders. Asteroid hits in a few hours.”

“No thanks,” Sam replied, not leaving his bunk.

“This isn’t a request. Topside in five minutes or the captain will have me come down to drag you up.”

Sam considered refusing, but the captain seemed like the type to actually send someone down to get him, so he rolled out of bed and made his way up to the deck. Everyone was gathered on the small observation area that extended over the back of the ship. He was the last to arrive, and the captain was already talking. He looked over at Sam. “Hey, slacker, I was just saying the rock hits in about four hours. If you want to watch, this is probably the best spot.” Sam nodded.

The passengers were all milling about in front of the captain, who stood at the top of a short set of stairs facing the rear of the boat, his arms behind his back. The crew were off to the sides, observing from a distance. Sam turned away and gazed out toward the setting sun.

And there it was. The middle of the day, and he could see the asteroid clearly in the sky. He caught his breath and focused on the water, the giant propellers churning the sea into a violent froth that trailed off behind the ship.

“I said turn around!” Sam finally noticed the captain’s raised voice. He turned and kept his head down.

“I’m sorry. I was listening,” Sam replied.

There were footsteps and the captain stood in front of Sam. “Look at me. I don’t think you appreciate the gravity of what we’re facing here.”

“I think I know better than most.” Sam stared at the deck.

“Are you mocking me?” The captain reached out and pushed Sam’s head up so that he had to look him in the face. “You think you know what it’s like to face death?”

Sam squeezed his eyes tight and prayed that the captain would still be there when he opened them.

He wasn’t.

Or was he?

They were all one.

“You sound like you’re sorry, but do you know what it’s like to face death?” He wasn’t old, but he looked like he had lived a hard life. His skin was tan and dry. His hair was a very dark brown, fine, and straight. It was cut short and parted on the left. He frowned, and Sam thought that he looked like a hick policeman, the kind of guy who liked to pull people over even if they weren’t speeding just to ruin their day.

He slammed his fist on Sam’s desk. “Do you?”

“No, sir, I’m afraid I don’t, and I can’t fathom how hard this is for you.” The man pointed at the computer.

“Change it.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that.” Sam had seen enough people lose the lottery by then that he knew he didn’t have to hit the panic button yet. Maybe he could get the man to calm down.

“Can’t or won’t?” The man leaned forward. There wasn’t sadness or even desperation in his eyes. Just anger.

“I’m sorry, sir. I’m just a Counselor. I can’t make any changes at all.” The man didn’t move. “Perhaps you should talk to the Grief Counselor. They’re just down the hall.” Sam stood up.

The man stood up, too. “I can’t fathom how you can just sit there and lie to me like this—” He looked down at the nameplate on the desk. “—Sam.”

“I’m not—” Before Sam could finish, the man leaned across his desk and grabbed him. Sam pressed the panic button over and over again as the man maneuvered around the desk, pulled Sam away from his chair, and slammed him against the wall. “Please—” His words were interrupted by an explosion of pain as the man’s fist connected with Sam’s cheek. Sam flung his arms up to block any more blows. None came. The man pulled Sam from the wall and pushed him toward the computer as the door flew open.

“Change it now, or I’ll kill you!” The man screamed. The guard, a new one from the Army named Phil, wasted no time and slammed a baton across the back of the man’s head. He fell onto the desk, and Sam scrambled backward against the wall. Phil pulled out his gun and shot the man three times in the back.

Phil spoke while Sam watched the man slide toward the floor off his desk. “Dammit, Sam, you need to be quicker on the trigger.” The man had rolled onto his side, his eyes staring at Sam. “You have the button for a reason, you know. You can’t try to calm everyone down.”

The captain’s mouth—wait, not the captain; did it matter?—opened a bit, and a bloody bubble formed. Sam couldn’t tell when the man had died. All he could focus on were his eyes, which hadn’t closed. The anger and desperation in those eyes were gone now, replaced by an emptiness. Not peace or acceptance: Emptiness.

“C’mon, Sam. Let’s get you fixed up.” Sam felt his cheek. He was bleeding.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I’ll be okay.”

“Not if you’re leaning over the railing when the waves hit.” Sam opened his eyes, and the Expatriation Office was gone. Phil was gone. The man was gone. Part of Sam’s soul was gone. The captain tapped Sam on the forehead. “Are you with me, loner? Stop daydreaming and think! This is your life we’re talking about.” He looked over at everyone else. “I want everyone below decks fifteen minutes after the asteroid show ends. A ship this size has little to worry about, but I don’t want to take any chances. You hear me? The waves may get nasty. So stay below decks until I give the all clear.”

As the others asked more questions, Sam made his way down to his cabin. He didn’t want to see the asteroid impact, and he didn’t want to see any more faces.

Sam dreamed of the asteroid hitting North America as if he were watching a movie. The blast wave and impact spread fire across North Dakota and rolled across the United States. He flew backward and watched the wave obliterate buildings, cities, mountains. He felt detached from the horror. He was high up in the sky and couldn’t see any people dying. It wasn’t until he was watching the shockwave clear forests in Arkansas that he realized that it was catching up to him. He looked left, looked right, and tried to guide the dream to have him fly faster. But it didn’t matter: The wave of force and flames closed in. He could feel the heat. He felt the edge of the power of the asteroid. The force pressed against the bottom of his shoes. He started to panic. He looked down at the charred and ruined landscape behind the line of the spreading force of the asteroid. He closed his eyes as his feet began to shake.

And he was tumbling violently, rolling over and over as the asteroid took him. Sam opened his eyes.

He had been thrown across his room in his sleep, and as he got his bearings, the room tilted in the other direction, causing him to roll back across the floor. His head hit the wall, but he was able to reach out and grab one of the bunk’s metal supports, which were welded to the floor. The ship seemed to stop rolling just as the squeal of twisting metal accompanied the entire room shaking.

As if toying with him, the room tilted in an entirely new direction, sliding Sam toward the wall opposite the door. Scrambling to his feet, Sam pulled himself toward the door as the deep moan of straining metal reverberated through the metal bones of the ship. The end of the room dropped, and Sam grabbed the doorknob and opened the door. Emergency lights flickered in the hall, and iridescent water flowed down the stairs that led to the deck. The smell of oil was overwhelming.

A voice behind him yelled out, “We need to get to the lifeboats!” Sam turned as an old man approached him. He didn’t know the man’s name. The boat rolled again, and Sam slammed against the wall. He braced himself and moved forward.

He grasped the railing along the stairs and did his best to haul himself up, the erratic rolling of the ship tossing him in every direction. Depending on the direction that the ship rolled, the water flowed down in great enough volume that Sam found it difficult to breathe.

He reached the door to the deck, which was already open. Sam hauled himself through and supported himself against the frame as he looked outside. It was impossible: The bow of the ship was bent upward, with massive waves surrounding it on all sides. One of the waves slammed into the hull, and it took all of Sam’s strength to hold onto the door and avoid being swept out to sea.

“This way!” Off to the left was a crewmember with a group of people. They pulled themselves along the tower to the lifeboats by clinging to a metal railing. The deck rose, and Sam let it propel him to the railing. As his body slammed into it, he grabbed hold. He turned back to the door; the old man was no longer there.

He looked right; the crew and passengers were making their way to the lifeboats. “Wait! There’s someone else here!” One of the passengers glanced back at him, but Sam couldn’t see who it was through the sudden surge of water as another wave tossed the ship. When the water and mist cleared, the people fleeing continued to move away from him.

Sam ran to the door and hurled himself at the stairs. The oily water made the railing slick, and Sam stumbled down the steps, barely keeping himself upright. Another wave of water flowed through the door and filled the hall. The old man was sitting with his back against the wall.

As Sam reached him, the man’s face went wide in shock. “What are you doing here? Go! The ship is sinking!”

“I’m here to help,” Sam replied, as the ship rolled again. Sam smashed against the opposite wall. He looked back at the man, who was bracing himself against the floor with his hands. His face was contorted in pain.

“I broke my leg. You can’t save me. Go!” The man motioned toward the stairs with his head.

“No, I can help support you.” Sam moved closer and reached for the old man’s arm.

Pulling his arm away from Sam’s grasp, the man looked him in the eyes. “Look, son, don’t be foolish. I know I can’t survive this, but you can.” He grabbed Sam’s arm. “Go! Save yourself.” He then shoved Sam toward the staircase.

Sam didn’t argue and stumbled toward the stairs. He looked back at the old man, whose face was lowered, his eyes closed. Sam paused and wiped the salty water from his eyes.

He had left enough people to face death on their own.

“What’re you doing?” the old man asked as Sam slid down next to him.

“Not leaving you.” Sam looked at the old man, who seemed confused and afraid, but whose face didn’t remind Sam at all of any of the poor souls from the Expatriation Office.

The old man shook his head and smiled, his fear receding. “Better than being dashed against the hull, I guess.” He squeezed Sam’s shoulder. “Thank you.” The change in the old man took Sam’s breath away. There was no fear. No desperation.

Just a warm and friendly face.

The water rose, and the other faces faded. So many of them, alone as they walked out the door of his office.

Sam closed his eyes. He was finally there for someone, walking with them as they left through the door.

There was a pure and brilliant light on the other side.