Join The Party

Humans have a tendency to live in the past. We dwell on mistakes, idolize old stories, and toil endlessly over what could have been. The series of decisions that ended the world would have been studied in textbooks for generations. If there were survivors, we’d question them all.

Of course, I survive in our new world, and I’m not the only one, but there’s simply nothing that can be done to change our fate. I won’t waste time thinking about what we can’t change.

Our end came when an herbal pesticide produced results that not only caused flies to repel from the spray, over time, they died off entirely. After a summer of bugs being plucked out of pools, swept off front porches, and hosed into garden compost, the buzzing of flies was gone.

Three summers later, the first humans began to sport lesions from the bug drug. Skin dripped off their bodies like butter melting in a microwave. In some rare documented cases, people fully disintegrated. What little science we were told about before mass hysteria caused all civilization to crash was that prolonged exposure to anyone showing symptoms accelerates our own risk.

No one knows why I’m immune. It’s doubtful anyone ever will. I don’t even know for sure if I can’t catch the bug drug, or if my isolation has protected me from it, but I don’t want to test it.

If I’m honest, all I truly want is to have one last conversation with the girl who got away.

We went to summer school together, and often we’d ditch early to go pool hopping. When the heat of plastic chairs felt like they’d boil our bottoms, we’d flee to our bikes, and set sail for open waters. When we were together, finding an empty driveway, and a vacant pool was bliss.

Those are the times I like to look back on.

As I saunter aimlessly around the small town where I grew up, patrolling for signs of life before making my way back home to finish yet another comic book series, I permit my feet to take a road less traveled. I steal glances down empty streets, knowing there are plenty of unused pools around, and close in on my alma mater.

Before the bug drug, society had made advancements in solar and wind power, so the fact that the lights are still on in the windows of the decrepit school doesn’t surprise me. What does give me pause is the shadow that moves through a classroom. My rubber soles seem to grip the pavement. A shiver passes over me when another body moves to the window, and starts waving.

It’s been weeks, months, countless days since I’ve laid eyes on another person. There are at least two people inside the school. What if there are more? What if they’re immune, like me?

Someone opens the doors to the school, three more people pop outside.

Shock gets the best of me, and I can only nod when a woman, maybe my age, mid-twenties, asks, “Are you here for the reunion?” My bobbing head makes her laugh. “Come inside then.”

I wobble forward, noticing the large cloth with red paint writing that says, “Join the party,” in big block letters. A girl with curly hair offers a giggle as she waves me past her. A couple stand close to one another, holding hands and the door for me. This feels normal for a moment.

Then, I enter my old school, and everything turns strange again. When I went here, the hallways were bustling with life, laughter, gossip, and gas. Teens smelled bad most of the time. What I wouldn’t give to smell the stench now. The offices are empty, as are the classrooms.

Behind me, the trio of greeters follow slowly, allowing me to take in my alma mater.

The curly hair girl says, “How long has it been since you’ve spoken to anyone? I was rusty.”

As I consider my answer, the distant slam of a classroom door startles me. I turn to the sound. Walking toward me is the first person I saw through the window. I can see her clearly now, the girl who convinced me to cut classes in summer school. The one who got away. “Josie.”

“Doug Fleming? Is it really you?” She stands a few paces away from me, but again, my feet are like anvils weighing me to the tiled floor. Josie scoffs, throws her arms out, then charges.

I haven’t been embraced in longer than I can remember, but the moment she hugs me, all of my sorrow slides off my skin, and there’s nowhere I’d rather be.

“Hey,” says a man popping his head out of our auditorium doors. “We’re ready for you.” Josie still has her arms around me, and I don’t want to let go, so I simply stare until he says, “New guy’s fitting in well. Come on, we’ve got room for another.”

Josie turns to him and says, “Doug and I were in the same class. We went to summer school together. You remember that, Doug?” I nod. She smiles. Her teeth are still shiny white. I haven’t brushed mine today. Haven’t since the shortage in supply got the better of my dental hygiene.

Around her neck is a heart-shaped locket, the same polished brass she’s been wearing most of her life. Josie doesn’t tell just anybody whose picture she carries with her, but I know. She told me once, after she tidied up her babysitting duties, and we used a stranger’s remote to order a scary movie on their uncomfy couch. We whispered so the kid wouldn’t wake up, and she totally caught me stealing a glance at her chest, so I played it cool, and asked about her locket.

“This is so surreal,” Josie says. “I can’t believe out of the entire world being wiped out, you and I survive. I forgot how great it feels to hug an old friend. Let’s go see what Jeremy set up.”

We all file into the auditorium, where Jeremy, the oldest and tallest of the group, stands on the stage where a mock game show set has been constructed from art supplies. A few more people smile in our direction, waving us all to walk down the aisle to the front row.

I sit next to Josie as our host beams down at us. His eyes fall often on the girl beside me. They’re smiling at each other. There’s a connection between them that makes me tread lightly.

The game show is humorous. Light comedy designed to get people talking. When I count the bodies up on stage and seated in the audience, I make thirteen. I never thought that number was unlucky, it’s Mom’s favorite number, so I try to stay optimistic when it comes to superstitions.

“Lisa, for two hundred quark points, what species was the last to die on our planet?”

“Well, technically humans haven’t died out yet, but ironically we still have cockroaches, so bugs?” Lisa looks a few years younger than me, but a couple faces in the room look familiar. Perhaps we shared experiences in these halls, walked right by each other, never knowing this fate that we would one die share.

“Correct. We might have killed off flies and the rest of humanity, but roaches, mosquitos, spiders, and ticks still threaten our lives. Beware bees, people. Allergies can be the real killer.”

Jeremy puts on a fun show of it, and I can tell Josie enjoys herself. Why shouldn’t she? Why shouldn’t I? This is meant to make us forget about the truth of our lives. I’m surrounded by people, and everyone is happy. I found Josie. I should be happy. Now, if only we can be alone for a few minutes, we’ll have our chat, and I’ll die without regret.

After the show ends, Jeremy hops offstage. Josie stands, presses her hands to his cheeks, and giggles before kissing him. “Great job,” she says.

“I had a great audience,” says Jeremy. “Made my job easy. Besides, I didn’t go to school here, this is your reunion.” He smiles at Josie, then turns to me. “Jeremy Widboom.”

We shake hands. I say, “Doug Fleming.” Then add on, “It’s nice to meet you,” though it isn’t.

Josie pats Jeremy’s chest and says, “When the whole world started dying around us, we both made it through somehow. Wouldn’t you know it? We were meant to rule the world together.”

I want that fate. I want that with the one who got away. I want Jeremy’s life, but he simply starts the progression for the next activity, leading us from the auditorium, back to the hallway.

“Hey, Josie, would you mind sticking around for a minute? If you don’t mind, Jeremy?”

“Josie’s a big girl. She likes to make her own decisions.” He laughs to let me know he’s joking. Perhaps I have gotten a bit rusty when it comes to social cues after years in isolation.

“Yeah, sure. What’s up?” she asks, as the others head across the hall to a distant classroom.

“Wow, hi. First off, it’s crazy seeing you right now. Like… And, Jeremy? He seems great. You two have been together for a while now?” For the first time in a long while, I feel my tongue clicking, teeth chattering, and gums yapping as if a motor suddenly sputters to life within me.

“It’s been three amazing years. We’ve been really lucky. What about you? Still in town?”

“I’m staying at Mom’s. It’s home, so. You? I heard you moved away.”

Josie nods. “I did. I met Jeremy, and after this all happened, he asked me, ‘When was the last time life felt comfortable?’ I said in high school. Sure, I rebelled, did things I shouldn’t have for attention, but life was peachy. Really. Right?” I raise my brows in agreement. “We drove across the country in the sweetest cars we could find keys to, painted our sign, and started searching for survivors. Here we are. Here you are. Wow.” Her smile lights up her face. “How’s your Mom?”

“Gone. Along with everyone else I know.” Josie’s face droops into a pout. She settles a hand on my shoulder. “It’s been a hard three years, but seeing you all here, all of these stragglers that you brought together in the walls of our high school, it takes me back.”

“It does. Totally.” For a few moments, silence lingers. “What did you want to ask me about?”

I swallow the lump in my throat, breathe slowly, then ask, “Do you still think about me? Us. What could have been?” Josie sighs. “I mean, like, I know you’re with Jeremy, but I keep replaying the night we watched The Shining on that floral print couch, feeling like I’d found my person. Do you know what I mean?”

She nods and lowers her eyes. Her gaze falls somewhere on the floor between us. Josie fiddles with her polished brass locket. Inside the locked heart is a picture of her Mom, who passed long before the world ended. She sobbed in my arms that night, and then we kissed.

“Hey,” I say, hopefully less glum than I feel. “Let’s go enjoy our reunion.”

Josie smiles. She hugs me one last time, then guides me toward the last of humanity.