short story: the last day at the races

“…it is estimated the object will land somewhere in the state of Iowa in the United States around 8 PM tomorrow UK time. Judging by the object’s size and current speed it is estimated that the explosion caused by the impact would be powerful enough to cover the Earth’s surface three times over. It will likely dismantle and separate the layers of the Earth…”

My mind felt blank.

The managers had wheeled a television into the office so we could watch any announcements together. The news reader had dolled herself up for what was now likely her last news reading – I wasn’t sure whether to focus on what she was saying or on her.

After she stopped speaking there was a clutter of buttons through the office as phone and computer screens lit up. People were contacting relatives and making plans. It might not have occurred to me to do this if I’d watched the news alone, but among everyone else I felt I should. I called my brother. The usual humour hadn’t left his voice. He said he was out of the country, trying to get a plane back now. He said he was going to his wife and kid, said to give mum and dad his love but he’d phone them himself, and gave me his love too. My call was a lot shorter than everyone else’s so I sat watching these other calls going on.

When things died down a quiet energy held the room. “Anyone fancy a drink?” said Jeff.

*  *  *

It was dark outside on the way to the bar. I ordered a lager and drank it quick, determined to get drunk. Most of the office had come out. I’d been a somewhat quiet presence on the team and it was the first night I’d been out with them since I started working there.

The alcohol flowed smoothly and the hours on the clock were forgotten.

“So what you gonna do tomorrow?” said Ken.

“You know, I haven’t thought about it” I said.

“You haven’t thought about it? The last day on Earth and you haven’t thought about it?”

 “Well what you gonna do?”

“Gonna go make all the goodbyes. Go see my parents and my uncle. Do the rounds near where I live. Then I’m gonna go over to see Sunderland and see Clara. You know, my ex. Haven’t seen her in months”

“Why you going to see her? Got something you never said to her?”

“I guess, I mean there’s always stuff to say. But it’s the end of the world. I’d like to have one last good screw”.

I laughed but it made me sad to think I likely wouldn’t have one last good screw.

I’d lied to Ken: I had thought about what to do for my last day. I’d thought the usual last day stuff. Would I run through the streets naked and ignite anarchy? I doubted it. Would I kill a man, a stranger, with my bare hands, just to know the feeling? That didn’t feel right either. Most of my ideas were no good. All I really wanted to do was go see my dad and tell him I hated him. Say all the things I’d never said. That was it really.  

The bar was the busiest I’d ever seen it. The owner said so too. Early on he’d started to give out all drinks for free. He’d pour a round of shots for every new group who walked in, pouring himself one every time too. It wasn’t late when a vodka finished him off and he slid down the wall opposite the bar. His daughter came from the back and helped him to bed. “Pour your own drinks” she yelled. And a few jolly candidates jumped the bar and started to pour drinks.

My mind still felt worrying blank thinking about the impending destruction.

“So what do you all wish you’d done before, well, tomorrow?” said Abbie.

“You mean the bucket list stuff?” said Jeff. “I don’t know. Never been outside the UK. Wish I had”.

“Never? What the hell?” said Abbie. “I thought everyone had been abroad. That’s so weird”

“Oh shut the fuck up Abbie” said Lynne. Her words were slurring. Lynne was the office manager and I’d never seen her in anything but a state of total control. “It’s the last night we’ve got here. Do you all want to sit here and talk about our regrets? Because I don’t Abbie”.

“It was only a question” said Jeff.

We all tried to get back on with conversation but the mood had been soured for everyone else. I hadn’t minded Lynne’s outburst. Attempts to restart the conversation were like pressing down on a lighter with no fuel.

The group started to drop off one by one. They all made a big thing of their goodbyes. Wishing the others luck and thanking us for being good friends. I particularly liked Abbie’s sign off: “I don’t know if there’s an afterlife or anything but if there is maybe we’ll all meet and float around together. So until then, well, goodbye”. And she was gone.

By the end it was just Lynne and me left. She was looking down at the table, staring off into nothing in particular, only moving to pour more Jack Daniels into her mouth. We didn’t speak for a long time. It wasn’t awkward – the noise of the rest of the bar was enough to fill the empty seats. The whole world was being noisy. The streets outside were filled with life.

I sat staring at Lynne. I didn’t try to hide my stare like I might usually have done, just examined her like a painting. She was a lot older than me and her aura was dark: dark hair, dark makeup, dark clothes. She looked a little too professional. But an idea started to form in my mind regardless. I remembered the feeling I got as a child when the chance of doing mischief alone arose without the chance of being caught. The idea kept growing in my head until I knew it had to be released.

“Lynne?” I said.

“What?” she said faintly, looking up.

“Do you want to come back to mine and let me fuck your brains out?”

“Ermm, I dunno”. She looked around as if taking in her bearings for the first time in a while. “No. No, I don’t think I want to do that”. And she went back to drinking.  

I wasn’t disappointed by her response. I picked up my glass and clinked it against hers and she gave me a strong smile. I continued drinking for a long time. I can’t remember if it was Lynne or me who left first. That goodbye is lost to me. It was some time in the early hours of the morning when I stumbled out of the bar.

I made the walk home alone. I took the most scenic routes: by the riverside then through city centre. Near the centre a group of twenty-somethings approached me. My drunkenness likely made me seem hostile at first but they chose to ignore this. A girl, very pretty, hugged me with great strength. “Lots of love to you” she said loudly. “I hope you have a good end of the world”.

I gave her a smile and a drunken gasp. I’ve never been good at responding to surprise interactions with strangers.

Another one, a man this time, grabbed me and kissed me on the lips. It felt sloppy and forceful. Very enthusiastic. And I didn’t care. I got the vibe of these people. We were two bodies, two goofy bags of flesh, sharing a good moment. “Love to you fellow human” he said. His voice sounded dorky.  

“Love to you too. All of you” I shouted. At least that’s what I think I said, who knows what slurred from my mouth. It sounded merry anyway.

I waved them off and continued my walk. I’d expected anarchy in the streets, windows put out, things stolen, fighting, like the London Riots but worse, but it was nothing like that. There was commotion, but not much more than a typical Saturday night. People were being very open. It was the opposite of a riot, - with everyone hooded or masked, part of a crowd – no, everyone was making themselves heard.

I got to my building and took the elevator to the seventh floor and clambered into my apartment. Once inside I threw up in the toilet then passed out on the bed.

*  *  *

I woke up the next morning feeling like death. It wasn’t an enlightening hangover or a good hangover to end on, just a hangover like all the other ones. The clock said 12:47pm. It felt a bit like Christmas, by which I mean it was the same as other days, the sun was still shining, the clock still ticking, but the day had a special aura because everyone collectively knew there was something different about this day.

I brushed my teeth, took a piss, showered, then put the TV on. It was a roster of the world’s reactions to the incoming object. In America there was mass panic. They showed footage of gun fights in the streets, Ku Klux Klan rallies, and buildings being looted and destroyed. People in police outfits were causing chaos in most clips.

My favourite segment was from Syria. The footage was from desert land outside a small village. Two camps had been set up, one by local villagers and one by ISIS members, a few hundred yards from each other. They had set up shrines for worship. It wasn’t a peace agreement of any sort. Members of both were shouting at any passers-by and camera crews, telling anyone who would listen why the world was now ending. The ISIS members said they were the only ones that would be saved, and that the rest of the world would now realise their wrongdoings. The villagers were a lot more peaceful: they wished people luck and urged people to pray or to read from the Quran.

In Paris there was a big event made up of politicians and celebrities. The celebrities – actors, singers, musicians, fashion gurus – were thanking fans for the support and giving words of guidance. The politicians, from what I could tell from the short clip, were trying to find something meaningful or hopeful in the impending doom. Something about coming together in our final hours. I wondered why the fuck they were all being so serious. How did they put their suits on in the morning, tie their ties, with straight faces?

The segment about Britain was broadcast from London, obviously not anywhere near here. The streets were filled with people, like a cathedral or a market. The reporter said London apparently had the lowest amount of violent crime or rioting since the announcement. Old Blighty, traditional and good mannered til the end. Outside Buckingham Palace were rows of soldiers in red marching. The Royal family stood watching. God they must have been bored. The Queen gave a speech a few hours later but I didn’t give it a listen.

As I was leaving the apartment block I saw I’d got a few texts from friends asking if I was coming to the horse racing later. Everyone seemed to be going so I said I’d be there.

*  *  *

I let myself into my parent’s house without knocking, like usual. The smell of cooked chicken hit me. Both my parents were sat in the living room not paying attention to the TV.

“Oh honey, come here” said mum. She hugged me tight. There was an overflow of affection in her eyes, like I was a child and she was consoling me. “Isn’t it terrible? You been dealing with the news okay?”

“I’m fine” I said. Was I? I hadn’t put much thought to it. “Nothing we can do now except get on with things”.

“Nothing they can do. Like shit” said dad. It was his attitude to most things. “I bet everyone with a lot of money is gonna be okay. They’ll probably all be on a spaceship flying away by now”.

I sat down.  

“I doubt a spaceship will do them any good if there’s no Earth” said mum.

Dad grunted like he didn’t agree.

“Something smells nice” I said.

“I’m making us all a big meal” mum said. “Like a Sunday roast, just I’m missing a few things”.

I smiled at her.

It was nice just sitting there in her presence. I hadn’t been able to guess what her reaction was going to be to the news. For all I’d know I’d walk in here to her in tears but she’d taken it rather well. We made a lot of small talk. My dad sat complaining the whole time like always. I stared at him and thought of all the things I had to say. A lifetime of things that had built up and I’d have to let them all out in one conversation. Everything he said filled me with a bitter feeling.  

“So you going to the races?” he said.

“Yeah I am. Everyone’s been inviting me to the races. What’s that about?”  

“It’s the last races. We can all go out with a pint in our hands. Knowing me I’ll pick the winning horse for once. And then what the fuck is the point in getting the money anyway?”  

“I’m going too” mum said. She never went to things like that so this was nice news.

“That’s good” I said.

“I’ll just go serve the food” mum said and left the room. 

I sat staring into the side of my dad’s head. Here was my chance. I want to ruin the last day he ever has, I thought. I had planned out what I’d say to start. I looked at him and waited for my mouth to say something but nothing came out. The words didn’t run. An excuse was always there, a barrier holding up my mind. Mostly I didn’t want to upset my mum. I hardly said a thing to him, just chatted a little and watched the TV.

My mum brought the food in. It was a good meal and I thanked my mum for it. After that we sat and watched TV together until there was only a few hours left.

*  *  *

Dad drove mum and me to the races. There were people spilling out the doors it was so packed. There were people screaming at the betting stands. Dad dragged mum towards the betting stands and I told them I’d find them later and headed for the bar. There was a good atmosphere here.

I spotted Mac and some of the boys across from me and gave them a wave. They gave me a wave and a cheer and beckoned for me to come join them. I motioned I was getting a drink and went to order. I ordered a pint of lager and took a big gulp by the bar. I’d begun to feel restless. Ever since the announcement I’d pictured something different for my final moments but here I was at the races. The merriment of everyone there was agitating me even though I knew it shouldn’t. It reminded me of my first sleepover when I was six years old, at my best friend’s house, I hardly remembered the kid’s name now. I’d looked forward to the sleepover all week but a few hours into the night I’d felt agitated and wanted to be alone. Just the presence of my best friend was making me uneasy. I’d had to use the house phone to call my dad and ask for a lift home. The call had woken him up and he took a lot of persuading. He yelled at me during the journey back. I felt the same feeling now. I drank another mouthful of lager and looked around. My friends were distracted by the race and my parents nowhere in sight. Another mouthful and I left the drink at the bar and headed for the exit.

I asked a man just arriving by the stadium if I could take his car and he laughed and handed me the keys. He seemed to get a mini thrill from handing his car over to a stranger. But where to go? I drove around for a bit then decided on the beach which wasn’t far from here.

The day was grey and windy but somewhat humid, perfect for the mood of the day really. The beach looked angelic. There were couples dotted around the beach and a family picnicking, but the place was mostly deserted.

I found a quiet spot and sat down. Was this the right thing to do? The beach felt a bit lonely. But so had the races. And there wasn’t time to go back now. I’d expected to find something out about myself on the last day here. Thought the person I’ve always wanted to be in my head would come to life in reality. But here I was, the same person I’d always been. Maybe that’s why I wasn’t sure what to do with myself. I pictured my friend’s pints clinking together in their final moments and my dad yelling at his chosen horse. 

I sat feeling the sand and watching the waves and waited for it all to end.