The Smoking Girl

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.