The End is Now Page 17

  He tried to imagine what it must have been like for the Native Americans living in teepees or for the cavemen when the weather got like this. At least the Indians would have giant Buffalo-skin rugs. What would the cavemen do? There weren’t even any caves in Goodland. That must have been horrible. And at that moment, Will felt very glad he was born when he was. Sure, the rapture was kind of scary, but he never had to worry about things like surviving. He never had to be a Native American huddled in a Buffalo-skin rug amongst all of the frozen trees, nor did he have to live as a caveman without a cave.

  That was something to be grateful for.

  And then, when Jeff pulled into the parking lot of the Super Mart, Will stopped thinking about the Goodland of yesteryear and started focusing on the Goodland of today.

  The first thing he noticed was that the parking lot had never looked like this. Will was always a little fascinated that there were always so many extra parking spaces in the lot of the Super Mart. Sometimes buses and campers and RVs would park there for weeks because the owners must have known that they would never use all of the parking spaces.

  But today every single space was taken.

  There were even cars parked in places where there weren’t spaces. There were cars on the side of the road, against the building, in front of loading docks, and in the crisscross spaces next to where the shopping carts went.

  Inside the Super Mart things were much worse.

  When the Hendersons originally started to head towards the supermarket, Jeff thought they might also want to stock up on other non-grocery items: batteries, flashlights, Band-Aids, antifreeze, board games, and so on. Jeff said they’d want to stock up on things just to be safe in case they got stranded or cut off from the city somehow. “There’s no way any of that is going to happen,” he said, “but better safe than sorry.” So he suggested they go to Super Mart instead.

  It seemed like everyone else had the same idea.

  The people of Goodland were vultures, picking every shelf clean, as if this was the last chance they’d ever have to stock themselves up with Hot Pockets and Children’s Tylenol. It reminded Will of when his mom had brought him to black Friday last year after Thanksgiving.

  “Think of all the money we’ll save. We can get twice the Christmas gifts for half the cost,” she had said. They got to the Best Buy an hour before it opened and there was already a line wrapped around the building. And as the doors opened, people flooded in, flanking every aisle, scratching and clawing for DVDs and TVs, and begging to be the chosen ones who were given one of the ten free printers. It was one of the most uncomfortable scenes Will had ever witnessed. He saw his friend’s moms (the same kind ladies who had given him rides to soccer practice, the same ladies who insured that every boy on the team was given a Capri Sun and Fruit Roll Up after a game) turn into soulless creatures as they yelled at each other and cussed and snarled “mine” over all of the wonderful deals on electronic merchandise. Will had never seen people act that way, and he learned on that day that every adult was one step away from anarchy.

  It was even worse on the day of the ice storm. It seemed that anarchy had arrived. Checkout lines were stretching down every aisle. The shelves were barren. Even clearance items — trinkety things that hadn’t been touched in years like Chia Pets and The Clapper — were being snatched up because people didn’t want to leave the store empty-handed. And there was no kindness or decency in sight anywhere in the store. Just people, young and old, big and little, doing whatever it took to get what they wanted.

  The Hendersons stood frozen amidst all the chaos in the Super Mart. The scene was all too overwhelming. They didn’t really know what to do or how to act. Finally, Emily said, “All right, if we’re going to shop, we’re going to need a cart.” She then grabbed a shopping cart, but some short man with a goatee and wire-framed glasses ran up to her and said, “Hey man, what do you think you’re doing!”

  “Getting a shopping cart,” Emily said. Will thought Emily always had this sassy, teenage-girl, know-it-all quality to her. But she seemed taken back by the man who’d run up to her.

  “Yeah, sure, whatever,” the man with the glasses snorted. “I, like, see this cart across the store, run to it, and you think you’re going to grab it from me?”

  “She wasn’t trying to take it from you,” Jeff said.

  “Nobody’s talking to you, square,” the man said. “And besides, it doesn’t, like, matter what she was trying to do, because what she did was steal my cart.”

  “Oh, okay,” Emily said, letting go of the cart.

  That was the only invitation the goateed man needed; he snatched the cart and ran into the chaos of the Super Mart.

  Will thought the goateed man must have awakened his dad because he cleared his throat and said, “All right, here’s what we’ll do. We need to stick together and get the essentials first. Bottled water, batteries, flashlights, stuff like that,” Jeff said.

  What about food, Will thought. Isn’t food an essential? He thought about being trapped in the corn maze with his insides eating themselves out because he was so hungry, and he imagined himself like that for days, waiting for the trumpet to sound and Jesus to come. He couldn’t bear the thought. They needed food, Will realized. He was starting to feel that he was the only clear-thinking person in his family. Maybe he would need to start taking more action, maybe he needed to grow up a little to help his family survive this crisis.

  Jeff went on, “If you see a cart, grab one. Until then, we load up our arms. Now let’s go.”

  “Maybe we should split up,” Will said.

  “We’re not splitting up. It’s too dangerous in here,” Jeff answered.

  “It’s just a grocery store.”

  “Son, have you ever seen a grocery store like this?” Will didn’t answer. His dad kind of had a point. “Now come on,” Jeff said as he started leading them away from the food toward the flashlights. What were they supposed to do, turn the lights on and watch themselves starve to death? This plan was getting worse and worse by the second.

  When they got to the flashlight aisle there were only two left and Jeff lunged at one of the last ones. He seemed to have grabbed it at the same time as some lady in a wool coat.

  “Excuse me, sir, I had this first,” she said.

  “No way,” Jeff shouted. “I just gave some guy my shopping cart.”

  “Not my problem. Let go.”

  “No, it’s mine,” Jeff said.

  Will never found out who won the argument because that was about the time he snuck away from his family and towards the grocery side of the Super Mart. There was no time to argue. His dad would be mad at first, but he’d be happy when Will came back with a cart full of food.

  He decided that his best bet would be frozen foods. They would keep for a long time and they would have full hearty meals like Salisbury steak, mashed potatoes, macaroni and cheese, and apple cobbler. He knew that the freezer aisle was aisle 11 and on his way there he tried not to look at everything else that was going on in the Super Mart. He tried to tell himself what to do: Just keep walking. Do not stop and don’t be a sissy. All you have to do is get some food for your family. And if you don’t want to starve, you better get some before it’s gone.

  Despite the pep talk he gave himself, he couldn’t make it past the produce aisle without stopping. He watched as women with shopping carts grabbed the last of the apples and pears and bananas and put them into their carts. They were all complaining, saying things like, “This fruit is way too bruised to buy. I can’t even believe they stock fruit like this. Honestly, if they expect us to pay for this, at most these apples/pears/bananas should only be half price.” Of course it wasn’t really their conversation that shocked Will.

  It was the empty produce stands.

  There were neon letters on poster boards that said Bananas for 69 cents or Apples $2/lb. But underneath those signs were only empty brown shelves. Will had never seen shelves in a grocery store completely barren. He never
even knew that was an option. He never thought about the process of stock boys coming in late at night to restock all the fruits and vegetables so his mom could buy more — because he never had to. It just happened. And the fact that things were not happening normally was starting to unsettle him. The system was breaking down.

  What are you doing? Keep walking. You are at aisle one — ten more to go, buddy.

  Will locked his eyes and walked straight ahead. He didn’t focus on all the grabbing and tussling over cereal and oatmeal in aisle four, or the shouting match that was happening between two large men in aisle nine. It wasn’t his problem. All he had to do was make it to the freezer aisle.

  Unfortunately the freezer aisle was the most crowded in the Super Mart. Every freezer door was open with two or three people at once trying to grab whatever was inside. Will stood at the end of the aisle and watched as all of the frost-coated doors had hands and faces and legs mashed against them. It reminded Will of when his dad would let him watch detective shows after he was already supposed to be in bed. In those shows they had shelves that slid into freezers where they would put all of the dead bodies. In aisle 11 it looked like all of the shelves had been stood up and now all of the dead bodies were trying to claw their way out.

  How am I supposed to get in that aisle? There’s no way, Will thought. It’s weird and there’s too many people and I’m too small.

  Are you serious? Is that what you’re going to tell your dad when he asks why you snuck away? Are you actually going to tell him, “Sorry Dad, I was going to get food but I’m too small”? Are you really going to let your family starve because the grocery aisle is too crowded?

  Of course he couldn’t let his family go hungry. It would be fine, no one was going to hurt him, he just had to get in there. He had to be brave. So he marched down the aisle past the worthless things like frozen vegetables and stopped in front of the sign that said “TV dinners.” There would be turkey à la king with mashed potatoes and spaghetti dinners with breadsticks. But the frozen TV dinners seemed to be quite the commodity. Everyone was reaching and clawing towards the back to get the last of Super Mart’s frozen meals. Will tried to reach in with everyone else, but with little luck. He was too short and just couldn’t wedge his way in there. He’d have to let people know he needed in there too.

  “Pardon me,” he said a little timidly. No one noticed. “Please, I need to get in. I have to get some turkey à la king for my family.” A few people looked back but did not give him room. He would have to shout. Everyone here was acting so primal and he would just have to get in and act primal with them. That was the only language they would listen to now. So he shouted, “I have to get food for my family! PLEASE let me in! What kind of people are you? You didn’t listen when I warned about the school being destroyed, and now you’re acting like this?”

  Will realized he probably shouldn’t have said that last part. Because at that moment every soul in the aisle stopped the pushing, shoving, and clawing and stared at the little boy. People got out from deep inside the freezers. The frosted doors clicked shut. And then there was only silence as people stood watching Will. The only sound came from a big-boned woman who dropped an entire armful of ice cream. Will didn’t know what these people were about to do to him.

  Then one man said, “That’s him. That’s the little boy who predicted the tornado.”

  “That’s not the Henderson boy,” another man argued.

  “No, it is him. I recognize him from the news,” the lady with the ice cream said.

  “What’s happening? Can you tell us what’s happening?” someone else asked Will.

  More questions started to fly. People in the surrounding aisles could tell something was happening and they started to flock towards the freezer aisle. Quickly people from the store jammed their way into the freezer aisle and both the aisle entrances were overflowing with more customers trying to see what was going on. And even though most people couldn’t see Will, they could hear the murmur of the mob saying, “It’s him… the prophet… the tornado kid… he’s about to say something.”

  Will heard their questions and he knew exactly what they were asking. They wanted to know what the next prophecy was. He had to give them the second sign. He would just open his mouth and tell them. He had waited long enough. His mom or his dad or the mayor or anyone else couldn’t stop him from doing what the face wanted him to do.

  He took a deep breath to speak, and that was all it took to make the crowd go completely silent. But nothing came out. His mind was blank. He still couldn’t remember what exactly the next sign was. He thought it would all just come back to him when the time was right. But for some reason, it wasn’t that simple. For some reason the face’s words seemed far away and cloudy.

  So he clinched his eyes shut and tried to remember back to the night of the cornfield. He tried to remember the face telling him about the three signs that would predict the rapture. And the face used three words. Will could remember that now. The first word was about destruction. Will could hear the face’s strong, thick voice saying, “The school will be destroyed.” But what did it say next? What was the next word?

  Power.

  Yes, power, that was it. But what about power? It was coming. No, it was going. Will couldn’t remember. It seemed like the night in the cornfield was a lifetime ago. Even now, as he closed his eyes and pictured it, it seemed so blurry and jumbled. It seemed like a dream. Will knew he had to say something, so he finally took a breath and belted out the word, “Power!”

  The mob began to murmur questions all around Will: “What about power? What does power mean? Whose power? God’s power? Power plants? Power Rangers? Power team?”

  Then Will answered all of these questions with his eyes still clinched shut. He hoped the face’s words would come to him as he spoke. “The power is — ”

  “The power is what?” someone squeaked.

  “The power is leaving. The power is going to leave,” Will said and let out a deep breath. He knew there was nothing specific to this prophecy. No timeline, no event, so of course this time no one would believe him. But when he looked around at everyone’s faces, that didn’t seem to be the case at all — in fact it looked like everyone believed him. They nodded as if they understood — or at least as if they were trying to understand — what exactly the power is leaving meant.

  And Will decided he would let them figure it out; he couldn’t talk anymore. He just wanted to get to his mom and dad. It seemed as if the mob in the freezer aisle understood. They parted like the red sea and let him through. No one touched him. No one even reached for him; they acted as if they were afraid God would strike them down if they did.

  EMILY HENDERSON

  Emily didn’t know why people were cramming themselves into the freezer aisle until Will emerged. As he left the freezer aisle, he was all hunched over and his fingers were crunched tightly together so that, from a distance, it looked like he only had three fingers on each hand. And as he walked away from the aisle, people just kept staring at him like he was Gandhi or Joseph Smith or some other kind of freakish prophet. His eyes were a liquid ice blue, almost glowing, and as they looked up at her, Emily realized something — there is no possible way I’m related to him. We are nothing alike. So who is the stranger in the family? Is it Will or am I the one that doesn’t belong?

  Will slowly kept sliding his feet across the grimy grocery store floor. As he walked, Emily couldn’t handle the way those people in the freezer aisle just kept staring at him. When he got close enough, Emily grabbed her brother’s arm and pulled him into the cereal aisle where all the Lucky Charms and Frosted Flakes were now gone. There was nothing but oatmeal left. Emily crouched down next to her brother and looked at him. On closer inspection she noticed her brother’s eyes weren’t glowing at all; rather it looked like they were coated with that frosting they put on glazed doughnuts.

  “What’s going on? What happened?”

  “I had to tell them.”


  “You had to tell them what?”

  “The next sign.”

  “The next sign?”

  “The next sign that the face gave me for the rapture.”

  Then a large man in a flannel shirt and puffy vest burst into the aisle. He stared at the two children for a moment. Then he shouted, “Are there any more Rice Krispies down there?”

  “I don’t think so,” Emily said.

  “Great. That is just fan-freaking-tastic. My wife is gonna kill me,” the flannelled man said as he left the aisle.

  “This place is crazy,” Emily said.

  “I know,” Will said. “Those people were crazy. They pressured me to tell them the next sign. That’s why I told them.”

  “So what did you tell them?”

  “The power is leaving.”

  “That’s it?”

  “That’s it.”

  “What does that even mean?”

  “I don’t know. The face just gave me the signs. He didn’t explain them.”

  “Yeah, but ‘the school is going to be destroyed,’ that’s at least sort of specific.”

  “I know. I think that’s why the face gave me that sign first.”

  “Let’s just find Mom and Dad. They sent me to find you and I’m sure they’re freaking out by now,” Emily said.

  Once Emily and Will found their parents, they all left the Super Mart. Problem was, they didn’t leave with very much. They had a flashlight (with no batteries), a few apples (which had been badly bruised), some yellow and blue yarn (her mom insisted she could knit them all sweaters), and a couple of Salisbury steak microwaveable dinners. They had much more that they had needed to get, but Will’s meltdown/prophecy had taken place before they could get anything else.

  And on the car ride home they seemed unable to focus on their lack of supplies because everyone was still too angry. Emily couldn’t decide exactly why both her parents seemed so upset with Will. After all, they were split down the middle about the prophecy issue. Someone should have been happy with him. And it was pretty clear to Emily that her mom thought whatever had happened in the cornfield was a gift from God while her dad just wished all the prophecy talk would go away. But now, for whatever reason, they finally agreed on something. They agreed Will should not have told everyone his prophecy. At least not in the store. Not like that. And Emily could tell this because they were shouting things like, “Seriously, what were you thinking, Will?”