They came back. I had hoped they wouldn’t, but they’re here. The sound started again just a few moments ago. Most people left their cars. I didn’t. I crawled into the trunk through my back seats. I’m not going out there. I’ve got some old Taco Bell back here that smells funky and some empty quarts of oil that made the carpet greasy. Should’ve listened to my girlfriend and thrown them away. I hear all sorts of things around me, screams, explosions, and the grating sound of shattered glass being walked on. I never should have left the bank.
When I woke up this morning, before I left the bank, the world was hot and humid. I could feel the heat bubbling down into that dank basement. It’s April? It shouldn’t be this hot. I made it outside and found everything smashed. There were cars turned over and charred. A bus was torn open and was stained a deep red.
The whole world smelled burnt and ugly.
A few light poles had fallen down in the parking lot, but both missed my car. A cop had started to wave traffic through the street. A bulldozer was pushing all the rubble out of the way. Houses were smashed. Their roofs were taken off and walls torn out. The plants were budding like crazy. The heat was everywhere. I asked the police officer what happened and he said, “We got attacked by some sort of thing last night, devils or something. I’d try and make it home. They seemed to have gone away in the daylight. A bunch of people died though. Prepare yourself. I don’t know much more than that, but everyone is trying to get home.”
He looked at the bank behind me and shook his head.
“Well, money isn’t that important now, huh?” he said.
That wasn’t my money, so whatever.
I jumped in my car and turned on the radio. There was nothing. Just that annoying broadcast that they test at the beginning of the month. I-94 was getting cleared of debris and people were piling into their cars. It took me all day to get to Minneapolis. Nothing moved. My phone is dead. I got to Broadway when the drumming sound started. There is nothing else. I have to stop writing. I’ve never written this much in my life. Things are walking by my car.
I can feel their weight.