Day 36: Apocalypse
How could I have known that this would have happened. I didn't mean to be away from home when it hit. But it may have saved me, for the time being anyway. I woke up this morning, for all I could tell, still me. I kicked open the back seat door on my Mazda 6 and looked out cautiously, stretching my legs. The air smelled different. There were a few cars sitting still around me in the lot. Finally, some movement. A person walked by in the distance. At first glance he appeared to be alright. Other than the familiar odd traipse of the weary traveler there was no sign that anything terrible had happened, that is until I pulled out my phone and realized that that man was also looking down at his, barely watching where he was going. Nothing too odd I thought. Probably just checking the Facebook.
Unconsciously I checked mine, and there it was, the Super Blood Moon. It was posted everywhere, on every wall, on every site, on every blog! Then suddenly it hit me. This was the sign of the Apocalypse. I realized that I wasn't exposed to the moon's rays thanks to the stubborn Georgian skies. It's been nothing short of dismal around these parts for the last five days. I assumed that most of the east stretching possibly as far north as New York all the way down to Florida were probably spared as well thanks to the mercies of Mother Nature, but yet, I'm forced to think as well, isn't it nature that unleashed this monstrosity upon us?
I couldn't help but wonder what had happened to all those, my friends, my family back home and across the globe who so boldly and bravely snapped photos of the ominous Blood Moon?
I sent out a distressed message across the Facebook desperately hoping to hear back from anyone who might have survived the end of the world as we know it. I had within the hour a few likes. But this inspired little confidence as I couldn't be sure if those likes weren't automated, not by the machine, but submerged deep into the psyche of my fellow Facebook users. What if the light of the Super Blood Moon turned the world into the most dreaded Facebook Zombie!
We've always joked about it. But what if it's real? Chills shot down my spine as a realization descended upon my mind. Oh no, I thought. We're all infected. Even myself. How could this be?? The Apocalypse truly is upon us!
I threw my phone down with a gasp. After only a few moments I realized that it was the only means of communication I had with the rest of the world. So I carefully picked it back up and checked my new responses.
If I can trust the messages--I'm choosing to trust them, so far Alaska has been confirmed safe. Wisconsin as well. I've heard mixed reports from Utah, but I'm holding on to hope. Lastly, I've been notified that D.C. Is absolutely gone. Utterly obliterated, any shred of common sense. But that was made clear to me last week as I passed through that place. I fear there is no hope for them.
I didn't know what to do at first. All of this seemed so crazy. Surreal. Then I remembered something. I had heard tales of an almost henge like structure near Athens, Georgia. Inscribed on the granite is instructions on how to proceed after an apocalyptic event written and funded by an anonymous source. It was less than two hours from where I was. With all the courage I could muster, I used the rest room.
I quietly made my way in and out of the building passing by several unaware travelers. I began to see that they were everywhere. People. People looking down at their tiny little screens, not even for a moment glancing up as I passed them. I, with a quivering lip got in my car and made my way to the Georgia Guidestones.
I don't expect any divine guidance, or any actual instructions to give serious heed to, but I must at least try to muster the energy and discover a creative avenue to transition this story into an actual accounting of the Guidestones. Why, you ask? Because I'm too far into this now. It takes me four solid downward swipes of my thumb to get to the beginning of this story in my Notes App. Too many words have been written. They can't be simply erased. They are seared into my mind now as if with a glowing red iron. I'd be damned if I pretending like they didn't exist. I simply can't go back and start over. The only way my grizzled heart knows is forward...
To be continued...