Infinite Testament (5 page)

The Final Day-12:30 PM

Moros was a homeless man who walked down the
boardwalk. He was handsome with a clean-cut appearance. He appeared
to be in his mid 30’s: his skin was tanned, his brown hair was short, and his
cheekbones were well-defined. His bright blue eyes were entrancing to
anyone who gazed into them. Rags were his fashion style of choice.
They were torn up and dirty but they kept him warm during the chilly
nights. On his back, he lugged a beat-up, flimsy old blue backpack.

Since Stephen’s interrupted broadcast, the world had turned
upside-down. And Moros found himself in the only place that had always
been upside-down: Venice, California. On a typical day, Venice was a
colorful, artsy, beach city filled with the most vibrant characters in the
world. There were overly aggressive homeless people, people dressed as
giant trees, and the final remnants of hippies from the ‘60’s. Up and
down the boardwalk, only feet from the beach, vendors were selling exotic goods
in tents, on tables, or straight off the ground. Artwork, incense, giant
dead insects, and marijuana pipes were just some of the goods available.

This day, though, was different. It was the last day
of the world. At least, everyone seemed convinced of that. There
was a feeling in the air Moros had never felt before. Thousands of people
stormed through the boardwalk, many holding hand-made signs:
Repent!,
You
don’t even need money anymore! Can I have It?
,
We’re screwed!
,
and Moros’s favorite,
The aliens will save us!
Why were there so
many people there on the last day of the world? Moros had no idea, but he
figured it had something to do with the beach. The love for the ocean was
universal.

Some assumed since Moros was homeless, he had screwed up
somewhere along the way. They couldn’t be more wrong. Moros was a
certified genius. It was, of course, by mere design that he was now
‘homeless’.

Rising from the sand on the beach, Moros spotted an
enormous bonfire. The flames leapt into the air and danced into the
sky. The fire was so thick, the ash was already raining down on
him.

That’s where he was headed.

1:30 PM

The streets of Hollywood were chaotic. Riots ensued
all over the city as people flooded the area to snag goods. The whole
city was a battleground. People were throwing any object they could
find through windows to gain access to stores. The possibility existed
that the threat was an empty promise. If that was the case, tomorrow
would be a great day for the rioters: they would have plenty of stolen
stuff. Some rioters, not interested in stealing, were simply interested
in mayhem. Those people were the ones to fear. Police officers
gripping tall glass shields were scattered throughout the area, but there were
too many people to handle.

Stephen and Campbell observed the mayhem from the minivan
Stephen rented. The car rental place was all out of cars, so they were
forced to settle for the minivan. It wasn’t the most conducive vehicle
for an end-of-the-world scenario, but it would do. Miles lied comfortably
in Campbell’s lap as Stephen drove. They were stuck in traffic: no
surprise.

Campbell asked, “So where exactly are we going? We’re
not joining the riots are we?”

“No.”

Stephen couldn’t believe the traffic. There wasn’t a
car moving for miles. He had watched as the traffic light turned from red
to green multiple times. He was growing impatient. If the world was
going to end, it was going to happen in two hours.

Out his window, he saw a vendor whose sign read,
Map To
The Stars
. The man sat in his booth amid the chaos. Rioters ran
all around him, screaming and hell-bent on destruction. The man seemed
oblivious to what was happening. That, or he had no fear of death and was
fully committed to his job.

Stephen opened his window and yelled out, “Hey! You
know where Lisa Binsby lives?”

Campbell’s head popped up in surprise, “What?”

The map vendor, a small man from India with a thick accent,
replied, “Yes, of course I do, buddy. Would you like to buy a map?”

“Get in the car. Take me there.”

Campbell, again shocked, “What?!”

The small Indian man looked just as surprised. “Can’t
do that buddy. I have a business here.”

Stephen looked around as lunatics were screaming, stealing,
and destroying just about everything. This man wouldn’t leave his star
maps booth?

“How much do you make in a day?”

The man, confused, stuttered.

Stephen interrupted, “You come with me, I’ll give you a
thousand dollars.”

The man shot to his feet. He placed a “CLOSED” sign
over his stand and came out from the booth. He walked toward the
minivan. “What are all these kids upset about? Did their internets
break?”

Stephen wasn’t sure if he should laugh.
Unquestionably, this guy lived under a rock. Or in a star maps booth.

The man slid the minivan door open and sat next to
Campbell. They gave each other an awkward nod.

“My name is Balwant Bunkich.”

Stephen looked in his rearview mirror. “I’m
Stephen. Nice to meet you Ball Wot.”

“Balwant.”

“Sorry.”

Campbell interjected, “Umm, Stephen? Why are we going
to Lisa Binsby’s house?”

2:00 PM

Since picking up Balwant, Stephen’s minivan made minimal
progress. The rioters only grew in number. The police force grew in
sync. With people running in the streets and alongside them, traffic
moved less and less.

Stephen grew increasingly impatient. Balwant was
comfortably asleep, his head on Campbell’s shoulder.

“Stephen!” Campbell yelled.

Stephen ignored him and stared at the frozen traffic.

Campbell yelled again, “Stephen!” Miles, joining in
the effort, barked. Balwant awoke and stared out the window next to
Campbell.

Stephen gave his attention to Campbell and Miles.

“What!?”

Stephen looked out the passenger window to see several
crazed, shirtless men charging straight toward them. One man had a chair
held high above his head and the others had bottle grenades. They
wouldn’t explode, but they would certainly start the minivan on fire.

Campbell yelped, “I think now is a good time to go!”

Stephen glanced around the area. There was nowhere to
go. Every road and intersection he could see was crammed with endless
traffic. One of the men threw a bottle toward them. It soared
through the air and narrowly missed, instead landing on the car in front of
them.

“Damnit!” Campbell yelled.

The car in front of them engulfed in flames.

“Hold on guys!” Stephen instructed. He slammed on the
gas and veered the minivan to the sidewalk. Stephen laid on the horn to
get the rioters out of the way. Those who didn’t ricocheted and bounced
off the side of the minivan. Enough was enough. If these fools
wanted to riot, Stephen wasn’t going to go easy on them. The rioters
diverted their attention to this renegade minivan. A group of naked women
emerged to chase them down. Balwant watched with excitement and
clapped. “Yes, yes, yes! Thank the Lord!”

Other vehicles locked in traffic joined behind them on the
sidewalk. Some plowed down the rioters. Roads didn’t matter
anymore.

“Look what you did!” Campbell exclaimed.

Cars crashed into each other as they tried to follow
Stephen’s lead. The sounds of colliding metal popped like
fireworks. The rioters moved in waves to attack traffic. Cars shot
up in flames. Fights broke out as people got out of their cars to
attack. The rioters were now at war with the people in traffic.

“My god,” Stephen muttered

Stephen escaped the madness and zoomed through a side
street that faced another mess of traffic. “Damnit!” They were
stuck again, albeit in a safer area.

2:30 PM

Mikey stood in his cell with his hands tied in chains above
his head. His feet were bound below him. He was somewhere
underground but wasn’t sure which room they had put him in. It looked
like a place they’d put prisoners in the 1400’s; it was dark, wet, and
isolated.

Mikey was a black eighteen year-old. His shirt was
ripped to shreds and he had plenty of scars and bruises to show for his time
fighting. His whole life had been tough. His attitude and
fearlessness was what kept him alive. His mother died giving birth to him
and his father was murdered when Mikey was just a toddler. He ran away
from his orphanage and lived on the streets, in a crime-ravished area of Grand
Rapids. A buddy tried to force him into a gang. Despite being
heavily recruited, he never joined and his friend lived to regret the
effort. Mikey spent many years alone, fending for his life, until he was
adopted. Things started to turn around for him. Until he became
caught up in this mess. Then everything spiraled out of control.

There was nothing he could do to save himself. He was
a vicious tiger tied down and out of energy. He was half-awake when his
cell door unexpectedly whipped open. It was
him
: the man who
interrupted Stephen’s speech, the man who was going to destroy the world.

The man said to him, “We’re a mere hour away my friend.”

“We ain’t friends,” Mikey snapped back.

The man wore a flowing blue robe and walked with a long
staff. His black hair ran down beyond his shoulders. His freshly
cut scar ran perpendicularly over his left eye. He was a menacing
figure. But one Mikey was not afraid of. His blood swelted into a
boiling pit of acid when he laid eyes on the longhaired menace. The
chains restraining his wrists and ankles were the only things keeping Mikey
from killing him.

The man was hell-bent on starting his life over. He
smiled. “We couldn’t have done it without you.”

Mikey hung his head in shame. It wasn’t true.
But he and his dad waited too long before trying to stop him.

“I wanted to thank you, Mikey. I hope your next life
is more fortunate than this one.”

Mikey continued to stare at the floor. His next life
would be exactly the same as this one and he knew it. He was doomed to an
eternity of heartbreak and failure. The man closed Mikey’s cell door and
started to walk away.

Mikey muttered, “Russell.”

The man stopped dead in his tracks.

“What did you just say?”

Mikey pulled up his head and stared in his eyes.
People were supposed to fear him. Mikey didn’t. Nothing he could do
would make Mikey fear him. It maddened him. Mikey looked at him
with defiance and his head shook with intensity.

Mikey yelled, “I said…. RUSSELL!”

The man grew shaken and a fury overtook him that surpassed
even Mikey’s.

“That is
not
my name! You refer to me as X!!”

The man was called X. It was his name. It was
his being. There was no one else. To call him anything but X was a
mistake.

Mikey chuckled. “You’re pathetic.” Mikey peered
deep into X’s eyes. In them was nothing but pure darkness.

Mikey taunted his nemesis, “You know what the sad thing is?
Sara will kill herself again. That stupid bitch will have a bullet in her
head again and again and again.”

X’s skin turned a dark red. As his teeth clenched, he
whipped open the cell door and got right in Mikey’s face, “If that is true,
then you will get to watch me kill your father an infinite amount of
times. And that would be worth it.”

X punched Mikey in the face. His entire body whipped
from the impact as the chains kept him standing. “Don’t you ever say that
name again!” X turned around, about to leave. Mikey could only see
his back and filthy long hair. X proclaimed, “We are all about to die…
but I’d take great enjoyment in killing you right now.”

X spun around. He gripped his staff and twisted it,
revealing a sharp blade that extended out of one end. X tore the blade
deep into Mikey’s stomach. Mikey flinched and his eyes widened with
shock. The pain buzzed throughout his body and he could feel his life
start to slip away. The whole room started to come apart from the
seams. The bricks around him appeared to dissolve and the bars of his
cell melted away like butter.

X smiled with pleasure as he watched Mikey die. It
was a sight he had yearned for. Mikey’s blood dripped onto the floor,
creating a puddle.

“The pain must be unbearable,” X said with a hint of
laughter. “The ironic thing is this weapon is the same one I used to kill
your father. The same blade. The same end.”

In one last moment of defiance, Mikey, half-alive,
muttered, “Kiss my ass… Russell.”

X punched Mikey in the face with such a force that his fist
crunched his bones. Mikey’s head whipped back and his skull crashed and
collapsed on the concrete behind him. X took the blade of his staff and
pierced Mikey in the heart just for good measure.

Mikey was dead. It was a noble end to a heroic life.

2:45 PM

Lisa Binsby was at her best friend Gina’s house. Gina
was another A-lister in Hollywood and lived across the street. Together,
they watched the news in disbelief. The whole city had lost its
mind.

“Do you think it’s true?” Lisa asked
Gina.

“I don’t know.”

They watched on the screen as Hollywood Boulevard was
slammed with cars that had added an extra lane to the streets by driving on the
sidewalks. The police were trying and failing to calm the battling
crowds. Suddenly, a rioter came into the frame and struck the camera,
causing the feed to die.

“My God,” Lisa muttered.

Gina asked, “Do you think I should call my Mom?”

Lisa turned toward Gina in surprise. “You haven’t
talked to her in years.”

“Which is why I should call her right? What if it
really is the last day of the world?”