by Ken Brosky
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\nThe moment they saw the horse in the drive-thru, they knew it was bad news. \u00a0Motorcycles? \u00a0Occasionally. \u00a0A truck pulling a boat? \u00a0Once in a while, on a crisp Saturday morning in the summer.<\/p>\n
But not a horse. \u00a0Not a guy sitting on a horse.<\/p>\n
They were watching him through the small TV screen hanging above the drive-thru register. \u00a0Aimee, Mark, and Lucas had all heard the ring in their headsets that sent them to the register, looking up into the low-definition black-and-white TV set with the expectation of seeing\u2014most likely\u2014a minivan. \u00a0Not a man on a horse. \u00a0At least, they all thought it was a man. \u00a0There was no way to be sure; the figure was wearing a long black robe with the hood drawn up.<\/p>\n
Mary pressed her thumb on the A button on her headset.<\/p>\n
\u201cWelcome to the Fixx. \u00a0Did you\u2026 want to try one of our new chocolate chip scones?\u201d she asked, shrugging at Mark and Lucas.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo, thanks,\u201d replied a raspy, tired voice.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt has to be a prank,\u201d Lucas said. \u00a0\u201cYou know what? \u00a0Don\u2019t even talk to him. \u00a0Let him sit there. \u00a0He\u2019s probably got a camera in his… robe and he\u2019s going to put this on YouTube.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWe have to serve him,\u201d Mark said. \u00a0\u201cThose are the rules, dude.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHello?\u201d the man said. \u00a0On the screen, they could see him turn his head toward the menu.\u00a0 They all craned their necks forward to try and see underneath the hood. \u00a0But the picture was too grainy, a consequence of their manager\u2019s frugal decision to purchase a secondhand camera setup from a foreclosed business on the north end of town.<\/p>\n
\u201cSorry,\u201d Aimee said. \u00a0\u201cWhat can we get for you?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cJust a double espresso,\u201d the man said.<\/p>\n
\u201cOkay\u2026\u201d \u00a0Aimee punched the order into the computer screen. \u00a0\u201cThat\u2019ll be a buck fifty. \u00a0Come on up.\u201d<\/p>\n
She turned off her headset and turned to Mark.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re dealing with him.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ll pour the shots,\u201d Lucas said, hurrying over to the espresso bar near the counter overlooking the caf\u00e9. \u00a0The Fixx, a staple of the neighborhood, was an extremely small shop, catering almost exclusively to a single demographic that used the long, winding drive-thru to place its orders. \u00a0That demographic\u2014married, middle-class, liberal-leaning women and men who refused to purchase from Starbucks or even the \u201cunderdog\u201d Caribou Coffee\u2014avoided the cramped caf\u00e9 at all costs. \u00a0In the morning, the line extended out of the parking lot and into the street while the inside remained empty.<\/p>\n
Most mornings anyway. \u00a0This morning the rush had tapered off abruptly at nine o\u2019clock, rather than its usual time of ten-thirty.<\/p>\n
Mark opened the drive-thru window. \u00a0First he heard the clop-clopping of the horse\u2019s hooves on the pavement, then the white horse\u2019s head bounced into view. \u00a0It was an undefiled thing of beauty, pure white, with a long flowing mane hanging over dark blue eyes that seemed to regard Mark with a calculated apprehension. \u00a0It continued forward, stopping on some unseen command when the rider\u2014wearing a flowing dark brown robe\u2014was next to the window.<\/p>\n
This was a first for Mark.<\/p>\n
\u201cGreetings,\u201d the man said, turning to the window.\u00a0 As he did, the gray clouds hanging overhead momentarily blotted out the sun, darkening the shadow across his pale face and making his features indistinguishable.<\/p>\n
\u201cSomething tells me you don\u2019t have money,\u201d Mark said. \u00a0He forced a friendly smile. \u00a0If this was a prank, he decided it would probably be best to play it out nonchalantly. \u00a0No point in making more of a fool of himself than necessary.<\/p>\n
Lucas finished the espresso and handed the cup to Aimee, nudging her toward the window. \u00a0She walked over with The Fixx\u2019s classic gray eight-ounce to-go cup. \u00a0She set it on the ledge of the drive-thru window and took a step back.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo money,\u201d the man said. \u00a0\u201cSorry.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWell, we made it already,\u201d Mark said. \u00a0\u201cYou might as well take it.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI would appreciate that,\u201d the man said. \u00a0\u201cReally.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cCan I ask why you\u2019re on a horse?\u201d<\/p>\n
The man seemed to think about it. \u00a0The clouds overhead parted and the tip of his pale nose became visible underneath the dark hood.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou really have no idea?\u201d the man asked.<\/p>\n
Mark shook his head.<\/p>\n
\u201cIs it a prank? \u00a0We all guessed it was a prank.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI could tell you,\u201d the man said. \u00a0\u201cBut you won\u2019t like the answer.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cPlease tell us,\u201d Aimee said, standing on her tiptoes. \u00a0It now seemed like less of a prank and more of an event of some kind, something the baristas were missing by staying inside at work. \u00a0Mark wondered if the Circus Parade was in town, but surely someone would have put up a poster on the Community Happenings board next to the front door.<\/p>\n
The man drew in a deep breath, then leaned down and gently ran his short pale fingers down the horse\u2019s neck. \u00a0The horse\u2019s hair looked so soft, Mark was sure even the gentlest of breezes might send strands flying in every direction like dry leaves.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s the apocalypse, I\u2019m afraid.\u201d<\/p>\n
Mark chose to keep a slight smile on his face, just in case it was a joke.<\/p>\n
\u201cWell,\u201d he said after an uncomfortable silence, \u201cthat would explain the lack of customers in the past few hours.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cRight,\u201d the man said. \u00a0\u201cDo me a favor and set that cup on the lip out here.\u201d<\/p>\n
Mark took the espresso and set it on the metal lip hanging at the base of the drive-thru window. \u00a0The man used his left hand to pull back the hood of his cloak. \u00a0He had smooth\u2014if slightly asymmetrical\u2014features, a rounded nose and dark brown eyes with short curly brown hair. \u00a0His face was clear of blemishes and whiskers, and his chin dipped just slightly into his neck.<\/p>\n
Mark had imagined something much more sinister\u2014after all, this was a Horseman of the Apocalypse, if such a thing could be said with any seriousness. \u00a0Where were the harsh red eyes? \u00a0Where was the diseased, gray skin?<\/p>\n
\u201cIs this a joke?\u201d Aimee asked. \u00a0She wasn\u2019t smiling. \u00a0Her eyes were wide and her lips pursed, the way she looked when one of her co-workers showed up late for a shift.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m afraid not,\u201d the man said. \u00a0He took a sip of the espresso and seemed to savor the liquid on his tongue forever. \u00a0Finally, his Adam\u2019s apple bounced. \u00a0He pointed to the small dandelion sitting in a paper cup at the edge of the metal lip, a dandelion Mark had plucked before his shift started that morning.<\/p>\n
\u201cWatch closely.\u201d<\/p>\n
He moved his finger closer. \u00a0As he did, the green stem began to fade to a light brown, then a dark brown, and then the leaves withered, the bright yellow florets quickly blackening.<\/p>\n
\u201cOh my God, this is real,\u201d Lucas said from behind them. \u00a0\u201cI knew this would happen.\u201d<\/p>\n
Mark turned, wondering how long his co-worker had been watching. \u00a0Lucas enjoyed labeling himself an Average Christian American, but in reality Mark felt he was much closer to a Bible Freak, the type who took everything just a bit too literally.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy am I still here?\u201d Lucas asked, staring up at the ceiling panels.\u00a0 \u201cWhy haven\u2019t I ascended, oh Lord?\u201d<\/p>\n
Mark considered his co-worker.\u00a0 If this was indeed the Apocalypse \u2013 which, well, it was \u2013 then he figured they were all in fact Damned, cast aside by a God that Mark had up until moments ago not believed in.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy am I still here?\u201d Lucas asked. \u00a0He pushed forward, elbowing Mark\u2019s arm in the process. \u00a0In the face of Armageddon, it seemed trivial and yet Mark couldn\u2019t help but wonder if such an asshole act was the reason Lucas hadn\u2019t been chosen to ascend.<\/p>\n
The man\u2019s horse jerked, pulling away from the window.<\/p>\n
\u201cEasy,\u201d he said, balancing his cup level so nothing would spill from the lid. \u00a0He ran a hand across the horse\u2019s smooth fur. \u00a0In the sunlight, the fur looked very shiny and attractive. \u00a0But as the sun crept behind thick clouds the horse\u2019s fur turned dirty and greasy.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhy am I still here?!\u201d Lucas yelled.<\/p>\n
\u201cJesus Christ,\u201d Mark said, rolling his eyes. \u00a0Suddenly embarrassed, he turned to the horseman. \u00a0\u201cSorry. \u00a0I didn\u2019t mean to use his name in vain or anything.\u201d<\/p>\n
The man\u2019s thin dark lips cracked into a smile.<\/p>\n
\u201cHardly necessary to apologize at this point.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cPlease,\u201d Lucas said. \u00a0He clutched his hands in a praying position, the way he\u2019d most likely been taught as a child and had continued to use every Sunday of his life. \u00a0\u201cPlease, tell me what I did wrong. \u00a0I have to know!\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t know why you\u2019re here,\u201d the man said. \u00a0Aimee and Mark pulled Lucas from the window; the man\u2019s horse stepped closer. \u00a0It was a nervous, fidgety horse, one Mark would have thought was hardly cut out for Armageddon, what with the screaming and suffering and all.<\/p>\n
\u201cI have to go,\u201d Lucas said. \u00a0He pulled away from Mark and Aimee and ran for the back door.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s not a good idea,\u201d the man said. \u00a0\u201cDeath is still roaming these parts.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cKilling one out of every four that remain?\u201d Aimee said. \u00a0\u201cI remember that from Sunday school. \u00a0God!\u201d \u00a0She grabbed her hair with both hands. \u00a0\u201cWhy didn\u2019t I fucking listen to my mom?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDidn\u2019t do Lucas any good,\u201d Mark said, turning back to the horseman. \u00a0\u201cWhy do you think that is?\u201d<\/p>\n
The man shrugged and said, \u201cI wasn\u2019t given many explanations.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSo what are you doing out here?\u201d Mark asked.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m Famine,\u201d the man said. \u00a0He sipped his espresso. \u00a0\u201cI wander around, and things die. \u00a0I\u2019ve got this, too.\u201d<\/p>\n
He raised his right hand. \u00a0He was holding onto a golden scale, a balancing weight like the kind Mark remembered seeing on the statue of Justice on his family field trip to D.C.<\/p>\n
\u201cDon\u2019t ask me what it does, though. \u00a0I have no idea.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSo we\u2019re pretty much fucked,\u201d Aimee said. \u00a0Every breath came out quickly in the form of an incredulous scoff.<\/p>\n
\u201cWell, I won\u2019t do anything,\u201d Famine said. \u00a0He sipped at the cup. \u00a0\u201cI\u2019ll probably be back again for another drink. \u00a0I miss caffeine. \u00a0There\u2019s no caffeine in Heaven.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou look like Houdini,\u201d Mark said.<\/p>\n
The man nodded and smiled.<\/p>\n
\u201cI saw him perform a show once, when I was alive. \u00a0Right here in Wisconsin. \u00a0Back then, all of this land along the lakeshore was prairie. \u00a0You could go to the beach and see dozens of ships sailing toward Chicago.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSo you were alive,\u201d Mark said. \u00a0\u201cAnd God just picked you one day and said, \u2018Hey, you\u2019re gonna go back to earth and ride a horse.\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n
The man chuckled. \u00a0\u201cSomething along those lines.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThis is incredible!\u201d Mark said, laughing. \u00a0\u201cI mean, it sucks that we\u2019re fucked, but that\u2019s probably my fault. \u00a0I never bought into the religion stuff.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat were you?\u201d Aimee asked Famine.<\/p>\n
The man frowned. \u00a0It was a light frown, the inquisitive type that came from someone who\u2019d accumulated bushels of patience during his life. \u00a0Mark imagined he\u2019d been the type of man who avoided the politics and land disputes and intolerance of his day in favor of something much more simple, like an afternoon with a good book.<\/p>\n
\u201cI mean,\u201d Aimee said, \u201cwhat was your religion?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSeventh-Day Adventist,\u201d he responded.<\/p>\n
\u201cOf course,\u201d said Aimee, snapping her fingers. \u00a0\u201cI\u2019m a Lutheran. \u00a0I knew I picked the wrong religion, I just knew it! \u00a0Martin Luther was just too crazy to be right.\u201d<\/p>\n
Mark shrugged. \u00a0\u201cHow could you have known?\u201d\u00a0 Then he turned to Famine. \u00a0\u201cHow could any of us have known? \u00a0It was like a crapshoot. \u00a0There\u2019s a million religions.\u201d<\/p>\n
Famine shrugged. \u00a0\u201cYou couldn\u2019t. \u00a0I was extremely lucky believing in what I did.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHow could we have known which religion was right?\u201d Aimee asked. \u00a0She seemed to be asking everyone and no one.<\/p>\n
Famine\u2019s horse shifted feet, clamping one hoof hard on the concrete.<\/p>\n
\u201cI need to go,\u201d said Famine.\u00a0 \u201cWill you do me a favor? \u00a0Stay open so I can get some more caffeine before this is all over? \u00a0You\u2019ll be safe as long as you stay inside.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat if the power goes out?\u201d Mark asks.<\/p>\n
\u201cJust keep some coffee ready,\u201d Famine said with a warm smile.<\/p>\n
Mark watched him trot down the driveway, turning onto the street and kicking the horse into a full gallop. \u00a0As it passed the row of houses leading south into the suburbs, the grass along the sidewalk on both sides of the two-lane street wrinkled and blackened like paper in a flame.
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\nMark and Aimee sat on the counter, the radio in the back room turned to 620 AM and broadcasting news of the carnage from around the world. \u00a0None of the hard-right conservatives dominating the airwaves had ascended, it turned out, a fact that had shaken their otherwise stern voices so that every news item they read was peppered with wet hiccups and stifled sobs. \u00a0A lot of people had simply disappeared, a lot more were rioting. \u00a0Some had seen a man on a pale horse. They had seen him gliding between crowds of panicking people in crowded city streets, hacking at them with a long red blade.\u00a0 It was such a terrifying sight, the newscaster sputtered, that people were literally dying of fright.<\/p>\n
\u201cDying of fright,\u201d Aimee said. \u00a0She\u2019d begun washing dishes in the stainless steel sink for no reason in particular. \u00a0\u201cDo you really think that\u2019s happening?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOf course not,\u201d Mark said. \u00a0\u201cThese radio jockeys made a living terrifying people with political theatrics and now they can\u2019t turn it off. \u00a0We\u2019ll have to listen to the play-by-play of Armageddon from men who probably think they were left behind due to liberal bias.\u201d<\/p>\n
The doors to the store were locked. \u00a0Lucas had gone, a long time ago, with no intention of coming back. \u00a0The three black leather chairs in the caf\u00e9 were empty. \u00a0The silver cylindrical Regular and Decaf coffee urns sat on the counter, their one-hour timers reading zero. \u00a0No point anymore in brewing any fresh pots. \u00a0They had just one customer now, and he preferred espresso straight from the espresso machine.
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\nTwo hours passed. \u00a0Mark wondered vaguely if any of the other horsemen had found a restaurant or bar that had appealed to them the same way the coffee shop appealed to Famine. \u00a0Maybe Death was sitting in a pub somewhere, reminiscing about his life while his bloody sword rested against the barstool. \u00a0Maybe Pestilence was sitting in a Burger King somewhere, gnawing on French fries while occasionally refilling his cup with various fountain sodas.<\/p>\n
The headset rang again. \u00a0Aimee flinched, then immediately stood up and went over the espresso machine to pour two fresh shots.<\/p>\n
\u201cCome on up,\u201d Mark said into his headset. \u00a0He didn\u2019t need to check the TV screen\u2014the quiet sigh of the horse was a dead giveaway.<\/p>\n
Famine pulled up and politely waited for his espresso. \u00a0He had a smearing of dark mud on his left cheek and his right shoulder slumped. \u00a0Mark wondered how heavy the scales were, if they served any purpose at all. \u00a0Perhaps God was just one of those guys who had a flair for dramatic imagery.<\/p>\n
Mark opened the window.<\/p>\n
\u201cHow\u2019s the Apocalypse going?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAs good as can be expected,\u201d Famine said with a shrug. \u00a0\u201cI wander around, the trees and plants die. \u00a0Sometimes people shoot at me but I don\u2019t feel it. \u00a0I admit I\u2019m not quite sure what else I\u2019m supposed to be doing.\u201d<\/p>\n
Mark smiled.<\/p>\n
\u201cNo training course, huh?\u201d<\/p>\n
Famine shook his head. \u00a0He watched Aimee set down the cup of espresso on the counter, then walk to the back room. \u00a0\u201cThe young woman\u2019s not taking it too well, is she?\u201d<\/p>\n
Mark shrugged and said, \u201cWell, it does kind of suck.\u201d \u00a0He set the cup on the lip outside the window. \u00a0\u201cI mean, it\u2019s even getting to me<\/em> now. \u00a0It\u2019s all sinking in. \u00a0Pretty scary, I guess.\u201d<\/p>\n Famine smiled. \u00a0\u201cJust rolling with the punches, right?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMore or less,\u201d Mark said. \u00a0He sighed. \u00a0\u201cSo long as I don\u2019t wonder where my family is. \u00a0And all the crap that goes along with that<\/em>.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMy wife died of typhoid,\u201d Famine said. \u00a0\u201cWe came out to Wisconsin so I could work a factory job. \u00a0Then Francine died, just like that.\u201d \u00a0He snapped his dry fingers. \u00a0\u201cThen the factory went on strike. \u00a0Then the owners called for the National Guard. \u00a0When we tried to walk into the factory, they shot at us. \u00a0I took a bullet in my calf and couldn\u2019t go back to work. \u00a0I lay in bed for six days and couldn\u2019t move. \u00a0Then I died of infection. \u00a0I never once prayed.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMaybe that\u2019s why you got into Heaven,\u201d Mark said. \u00a0\u201cBecause of those six days. \u00a0The suffering. \u00a0Maybe it\u2019s not about belief at all.\u201d<\/p>\n Famine shrugged.<\/p>\n \u201cCould be. \u00a0That\u2019s the best theory I\u2019ve heard yet.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo one knows?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cGod\u2019s not the talkative type.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBoy,\u201d Mark said, \u201cthis isn\u2019t anything like what I expected. \u00a0It all seems so melodramatic.\u201d<\/p>\n Famine grunted but didn\u2019t say anything. \u00a0He sipped his espresso.<\/p>\n Mark stood at the window, staring at the dirty tile floor and thinking. \u00a0Famine sipped his espresso. \u00a0The power turned off and Mark felt his heart skip a beat. \u00a0What would happen to them now? \u00a0Had he outlived his usefulness?<\/p>\n \u201cWe have iced coffee,\u201d he said. \u00a0\u201cIt\u2019s bold. \u00a0You might like it. \u00a0I mean, you don\u2019t have to kill us or anything.\u201d<\/p>\n Famine smiled.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019d love to try something else.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWe have cookies, too. \u00a0And scones.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ll come back,\u201d Famine said. \u00a0He looked up at the dark sky. \u00a0\u201cUntil I hear otherwise.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cDo you think there\u2019s any point to all this?\u201d Mark asked. \u00a0\u201cI mean, it just doesn\u2019t seem like there\u2019s any point.\u201d<\/p>\n Famine seemed to think about it, sipping at the espresso until it was gone.\u00a0 He set the cup on the lip of the drive-thru window. \u00a0The white cardboard had begun to decompose where his fingers had touched it.<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t know,\u201d he said simply.<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s as if God\u2019s some middle-manager or something,\u201d Mark said. \u00a0\u201cI mean, all he would really need to do is use his Divine Power to wipe us all out. \u00a0Instead, he\u2019s got this long, side-winding plan that seems designed to waste time.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cPerhaps.\u201d<\/p>\n Famine sat and stared at the back of his horse\u2019s head for a moment. \u00a0Then he reached over with his right hand and set the scales down on the metal lip, knocking the cup onto the ground. \u00a0It made a loud, heavy clang.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m so tired of carrying this.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cCan you help us?\u201d Aimee asked over Mark\u2019s shoulder. \u00a0She\u2019d been crying in the backroom and the make-up on her cheeks had begun to come apart in clumps from the salty tears. \u00a0\u201cI mean, is there anything we can do at this point?\u201d<\/p>\n Famine looked at her and shook his head. \u00a0He looked as if he truly cared, and Mark imagined him walking his horse across the park next to Lake Michigan, staring at every blade of grass that withered as he passed.<\/p>\n The horse clomped one hoof down on the concrete.<\/p>\n \u201cIt was nice to talk with you again,\u201d Famine said.<\/p>\n \u201cYou too, dude.\u201d<\/p>\n As Famine trotted down the driveway, Mark shut the drive-thru window and locked it. \u00a0Outside, it had begun to smell like fire and rotting meat. \u00a0Dark clouds hung above, uninterested in moving.<\/p>\n Aimee walked into the back room, crying once more. \u00a0Mark followed her, afraid she might leave.\u00a0 Or something worse. \u00a0There were knives used for cutting the onions they put in the breakfast omelets and, even though he didn\u2019t think she\u2019d go that far, the fact that it was the Apocalypse made everything seem possible.<\/p>\n \u201cI want to go home,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n Mark put his arm around her shoulder.<\/p>\n \u201cJust stay here for awhile. \u00a0Until it gets better out there.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cGets better?\u201d she looked up. \u00a0Her eyes were bloodshot but, even still, the blue in her irises dominated the room. \u00a0Just yesterday those eyes had been responsible for bringing fifty dollars in tips. \u00a0Mark always let her work the drive-thru window so they could get good tips.<\/p>\n \u201cIt\u2019s never going to get any better!\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThen just stay here for me,\u201d Mark said. \u00a0\u201cPlease. \u00a0My parents live in Kentucky.\u00a0 I don\u2019t have anyone to go home to.\u201d<\/p>\n She closed her eyes and rested her head against his chest.<\/p>\n \u201cGod damn it. \u00a0We don\u2019t deserve this, do we? \u00a0Do we deserve this?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNo,\u201d he said. \u00a0He knew that was what she wanted to hear, and in her case he believed it. \u00a0For himself, he wasn\u2019t so sure. \u00a0Was it enough to be a good person? \u00a0If he said he believed in God, but did it only to avoid damnation, would that have been enough? When they were done, they both felt slightly better\u2014even if the feelings were purely chemical in nature\u2014and brought the Jenga box over to the front counter. \u00a0They stacked twenty-four stories before it fell and left the wooden bricks scattered on the counter. \u00a0They shared a large chocolate chip cookie, the ones they occasionally munched on during their long morning shifts, and, for a few seconds, they forgot everything.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat if he doesn\u2019t come back?\u201d Aimee asked. \u00a0It was their fifth game of Jenga and the tower was twenty stories high. \u00a0\u201cIs he sticking around or does he go back to Heaven?\u201d<\/p>\n Mark shrugged, spinning one of the Jenga blocks between his fingers.<\/p>\n \u201cI never read the Book of Revelation.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t know anything,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n Mark placed his block on the top layer and the tower wobbled slightly.<\/p>\n \u201cIt all seems so ridiculous.\u201d<\/p>\n The drive through rang and they heard the clomping of horse hooves. \u00a0Famine guided his horse forward without speaking into the speaker box. \u00a0As he approached the window, Mark could see that his shoulders were sloping low, his head hung down and the hood drawn loosely over. \u00a0Even the horse seemed to be slouching, sighing every few breaths through its loose cheeks.<\/p>\n \u201cHow\u2019s the Apocalypse business?\u201d Mark asked. \u00a0The scales were still sitting on the metal lip\u2014they\u2019d been afraid to move them.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m tired,\u201d Famine said quietly. \u00a0He drew back his hood, looking Mark in the eyes for the first time. \u00a0He had light brown eyes with just a hint of green and thin eyebrows.<\/p>\n \u201cListen,\u201d Mark said. \u00a0Behind him, Aimee was pouring a cup of iced coffee. \u00a0\u201cWe don\u2019t know what to do.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNeither do I,\u201d Famine muttered. \u00a0The horse impatiently shifted legs, sighing again. \u00a0\u201cWhen I was alive, I used to love taking a carriage into the country. \u00a0My wife and I would spent the entire afternoon inside sprawling forests and I remember taking deep breaths through my nose because I loved the bouquet of scents. \u00a0Now everywhere I go, the earth dies.\u201d<\/p>\n Aimee set the cup of coffee down on the lip.<\/p>\n Famine reached out and grabbed the iced coffee. \u00a0He took a sip through the straw and let the liquid in his mouth a long time before swallowing.<\/p>\n \u201cThis is my last drink here. \u00a0I have to go to Israel.\u201d<\/p>\n Mark nodded. \u00a0They\u2019d been living on pastries for the past twenty hours. His hair was greasy and his skin felt dirty.<\/p>\n \u201cWe\u2019ll have to leave this place, I guess.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhy?\u201d Famine asked. \u00a0He took another sip. \u00a0\u201cWhy not just sit right here for awhile? \u00a0Don\u2019t go out there. \u00a0Sit right here until everything is settled. \u00a0You seem like good people.\u201d<\/p>\n Mark smiled, slightly forced.<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t think I can eat any more coffee cakes.\u201d<\/p>\n Famine smiled.<\/p>\n \u201cMy name was Timothy when I was alive. \u00a0I appreciate your friendliness.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cGood luck with the rest of it, Timothy,\u201d Mark said. \u00a0He gave a little wave as the Horseman of the Apocalypse trotted off.<\/p>\n \u201cLet\u2019s wait,\u201d Aimee said. \u00a0\u201cI don\u2019t know why I ever wanted to leave anyway. \u00a0My friends are probably dead or gone. \u00a0My parents are probably dead or gone. \u00a0Running around won\u2019t change that.\u201d<\/p>\n Mark nodded, looking at her. \u00a0He thought she looked strong.\u00a0 It gave him hope that maybe something would happen, that all of this would finally make sense.<\/p>\n He grabbed the Jenga blocks and started stacking them, his back to the window.\u00a0 Outside, the low-hanging black clouds began to release thick droplets of rain. by Ken Brosky The moment they saw the horse in the drive-thru, they knew it was bad news. \u00a0Motorcycles? \u00a0Occasionally. \u00a0A truck pulling a boat? \u00a0Once in a while, on a crisp Saturday morning in the summer. But not a … Continue reading
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\nThey had sex in the back room, next to the large stainless steel sink, on the black floor mat while the news radio host said a long, rambling prayer over the speaker system and begged God to take just a few more souls, preferably those of his family and perhaps himself if there was room. \u00a0It was satisfying sex, the kind brought on by two animals who were deathly afraid that their genes wouldn\u2019t get passed on. \u00a0Neither of them were particularly attracted to each other. \u00a0They were both slightly overweight, with bland faces and a pair of birthday suits that could have used a good ironing. \u00a0They kept their headsets on the entire time, in case Famine returned.<\/p>\n
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\nKEN BROSKY<\/strong> received his MFA in writing from the University of Nebraska. He’s currently putting the finishing touches on a humor novel, a speculative novel, a mystery novel, and a short story collection.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"