Steve noticed the pretty young girl walking with Beth, the
H.R. chief. He saw her again the next
morning, as he walked to the front door from his car. She was outside, dutifully observing the
thirty-foot buffer zone, smoking a cigarette.
Almost every day after, Steve would see The Smoking Girl outside. He’d smile and nod, and she’d smile back. When he didn’t see her on days it was raining
or cold, he thought about making an excuse to go to the underground parking
garage, which was the other designated smoking area. “Nah,” he said to himself. “too stalky.”
One day, he finally talked to her. They caught an elevator together on the first
floor. Just as he started to speak, it
hit him – the unmistakable stench of a heavy cigarette smoker, thick and
vile. Steve willed his body with all his
might to not cough. Thankfully, she
exited the car on the second floor. The
Smoking Girl was gone, along with the heavy smell, although the remnants
remained in the car for his trip up the next two floors.
Steve felt a wave of sadness and resignation. The Smoking Girl was so pretty, but with that
baggage, he couldn’t see talking to her at all.
Later that week, everybody at work was on edge. Steve’s nerves jangled constantly, like that
feeling right before a car crash. He saw
Jacob in the lunchroom.
“What’s going on?” Steve
asked, “Everyone seems weirded out.”
Jacob didn’t reply.
Instead he looked out of the large picture windows past the tables. There was a light rain, and the sky, which
was a dull slate gray earlier, had changed to a pasty green color. The clouds seemed to pulse as the green color
changed shades.
“I’m leaving.” Jacob
said. “I’m calling my wife and going
home. You should too.” With that, he left.
Steve started back to his office to get his things. Once on his floor, he called out,
“Hello? Anyone here?” No response.
A wave of fear washed over him, adding to his already
jangled nerves. Instead of going to his
office, he pushed the door open to the stairs and ran as fast as he could down
to the bottom sub-basement stairwell that led to the parking garage. He threw himself in the corner and curled
into a ball, with the concrete stairs between him and the big heavy door.
The crack that followed was so loud and violent it split the
sky. The heavy steel door was blown
inward and smashed the concrete stairs to rubble. A gust of hot air pinned Steve against the
wall as he closed his eyes and curled tighter.
The earth and sky roared.
Then, a second later, it was quiet. Steve opened his eyes. The building was no longer above him. He was in a giant pit, filled with broken
concrete and twisted pieces of metal.
Listening, he heard nothing. The
sky had changed back to a normal slate gray, and he even saw some pockets of
blue poking through. He stood up and
carefully picked his way through the rubble.
Cresting the rim of the pit, he saw only devastation. He looked for people, for bodies, for
anything.
Evidence of human civilization had been erased. Steve could see to the horizon in all
directions. All that remained was
rubble, smoke and ashes. Steve collapsed
and held his head in his hands, trying to comprehend it all. He sat at the edge of the pit, his body and
mind shutting down.
After what seemed like hours, Steve stood up and picked his
way along the edge, heading for what he thought was once the parking lot. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a
flash. It was the color green. It was stark in its noticeability, since his
world no longer included trees or grass.
“There’s a plant that survived this?”
He thought, as he gingerly moved to see what it was. The green was a sleeve! A sleeve that was moving! Someone else is alive! As he got closer, Steve saw the prone figure,
moving in the rubble.
It was The Smoking Girl.
Hoping to not break an ankle, Steve moved as fast as he could to
her. She was slowly trying to get
up. The Smoking Girl was dirty and
grimy, but at that moment, was the most beautiful sight in the word. She turned to see him standing there, and her
eyes, coated in dust, widened in awe and wonder that, by a miracle, another
human had survived.
“Are you okay? Can
you stand up?” He asked.
She nodded slowly. He
put his arm around her and helped her stand.
“Steve.” He
said. “My name is Steve.”
“I’m Caroline.”
They stood for a moment, and then hugged tightly. This was the hug of humanity, a species that
survived for four million years of cataclysms, a species that survived a little
bit longer. That was when it hit
him. The thick, acrid smell of cigarette
smoke on her breath entered his nose, invaded his lungs. Somehow, he didn’t seem to mind.
