They heard the sirens. They knew it was going to happen, they just didn’t know when. Welp, guess it’s now.
Ever since that week, that god-awful press conference, and just the whole bunch of terrible shit that was happening, they knew they’d be hearing those sirens any day now. Placer County local government had installed the alarm system and built the bunkers in fear of what that week would bring. They warned the residents to stay inside during the first alarms. They said to head for the bunkers when the second alarm began.
Keith spent his time either holed up in his room, looking out the window in the living room, or holed up in Meghan (’s room.) Meghan had a similar habit pattern, switching between her room and the living room couch.
The banana man stopped answering calls, the power was out, Margot was gone. They were forced into a hushed sober silence, just waiting for this hell to end and the new hell to begin.
“Now’s the time beebs.” Keith shook his head and backed somberly away from the window as the alarms echoed through the empty evening.
The sky outside was dark and stormy, lighting crackled across the sky, but no rain fell. There was a dark red menacing color on the horizon.
His voice was surprisingly calm, though he could feel the rush of anxiety and worry flow through his veins like a fresh hit of the juice.
Meghan sat silently on the couch. She looked over at Keith, frightened, but… quiet. No witty remarks here. The seriousness of the situation weighed on them both like a sack of bricks. They exchanged that terrified glance.
The sirens continued in the background of their exchange.
The two sat together on the couch now in the silence that followed the first bout of alarms. Keith held Meghan’s head to his chest and stroked her hair nervously with a shaking hand. Meghan stayed there remaining unsure, but comforted by her lover’s touch.
As much as he wanted to stay there with Meghan, something compelled Keith to walk back to the window. He slowly stood holding Meghan and putting her back to rest her head on the couch.
He pulled the curtain back and a rumbling began. It started slowly, getting more and more intense, like an earthquake, but there was something weird about these rumbles. The street had filled with an intensely thick cream-colored fog that rolled and swirled calmly in the silent dark outside the window. He looked as far up the street as he could in the low visibility where he felt the rumbling was coming from.
Suddenly, a blinding white light shot out from the clouds where he was looking. Keith cried out in pain grabbing at his face, he turned back to the darkness of the house shutting his eyes and reopening them, trying to clear his spotty vision. Meghan was at his side in an instant grabbing him, holding his head to her chest. She turned her attention from Keith to the now dimming light that emitted from the street outside, she was taken aback.
“Come and see! Keith! Come and SEE!” He rubbed his eyes one more time and turned to see whatever she was gesturing to. They both looked, and there before them was a white horse! Its rider held a bow, a crown, and he rode out as a conqueror bent on conquest.
The air reeked of something terrible as the first rider galloped past them, and they collapsed simultaneously into a fit of coughing. Doubling over coughing till their throats croaked and their heads were light. The two held each other in great fear.
The sickly smell burned itself out with a whoosh of wind, hotter than hell itself. Meghan and Keith broke out into a hot sweat, not hot like a night between the sheets with the two of them, but hot like hot molten lava on skin, like hot embers in their eyes. An unbelievable shaking occurred between them as they experienced the devil’s white torrid metal cock penetrate their very souls.
The shaking increased as the ground itself rumbled with the bombs of a beginning war. Keith turned back to the window again, dragging Meghan with him “Come and see!” he screamed out over the magnitude of the quaking around them! He yelped as his gesturing hands grazed the scalding hot glass window pane. Together they came to the window once again, their eyes squinting to see through the sweat that was pouring over their faces in the heat.
Then another horse came out, a fiery red one! Its rider was given power to take peace from the earth and to make men slay each other. To him was given a claymore of epic proportions. The horseman hefted the large sword above his head and charged past the apartments, screeching into the dark red night as his battle cries echoed through the streets.
The fiery feeling died as soon as the second horseman was out of sight. The stench of burning flesh was quickly absolved by a dreaded feeling of a terrible hunger. As the sweat subsided, the incredible powerful blinding feeling of absolute starvation took over the lovers’ bodies. There was no smell, there was no temperature, there was only that wretched feeling of empty stomachs in dire need of nourishment.
Their eyes met and they both only felt a desire to devour one another with no remorse. In this instant there was no history, there was no previous friendship, there were no good memories, there was no love. They only thought of how the other was selfish, how should you live while I am in pain like this.
Another light cut through their frozen carnivorous stares, drawing their attention back to the street. “Come and see.” They quietly said it together, each suddenly unaware of the other.
They looked, and there before them was a black horse! Its rider was holding a weighing scale in his hand. They heard what sounded like a voice among four living creatures, from somewhere in the twisting dust and fog saying, “A quart of wheat for a day’s wages, and three quarts of barley for a day’s wages, and do not damage the oil and the wine!”
After this gnarly turn of events, the two were returned to their ordinary well-fed selves. They trembled and fell to the floor, they sat for a moment crying into one another, why, why, why was this happening. The two sat curled together in each other’s arms under the sill very, very frightened. The crashing and rumbling and whispering and screaming and wind continued outside the window. They heard the sounds of ancient battles, the crashing of swords, screaming of men, they heard modern bombs hitting the ground, they heard explosions, they heard it all. The sound of Death was deafening.
Abruptly, all sound ceased.
They noticed this, but still sobbed into each other. Thinking they had gone deaf from the noise, Keith and Meghan looked at each other. “Come and see.” They whispered concurrently, each could hear the other, as clear as day.
They slowly stood, and once again turned their heads to whatever other fearful thing was awaiting them out that damn window.
And there She was.
They looked and there before them was a pale horse. Its rider was named Death! She was given power over the world to kill by sword, famine, and plague, and by the wild beasts of the earth. She wore a cloak of impossibly dark black smoke that moved sentiently, inhabited by Hades herself. Hades’ eyes were the clean silver clasps of metal holding her to Death’s pale neck.
The dark passengers of silent Death stood still outside the apartment. They gazed in on the terribly frightened couple who stared back out at them from behind the window panes. As the gaze continued the terrifying sounds of fighting and war returned to the air.
The pair on the horse slowly turned and trotted off, following the direction of the other three horsemen. With their disappearance, the noise faded out again slowly, until the air only breathed a creeping whistling wind.
Meghan and Keith sat bawling together. The constant changing and repeating trauma of the day’s events left them exhausted. Physically and mentally exhausted. Anxiety through the roof, legs unable to hold their bodies up, eyes unable to produce anything but tears, mouths unable to speak.
Just then, the second bout of alarms started. The “A-OK” alarms. Time to move.
The exhausted couple paused for a minute as reality came back to shake them from their awful state.
They grabbed their phones, chargers, and a snack or two. They were sweating, they couldn’t see anything in their home that would deliver them comfort after they met the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. Nothing would ever be the same.
Residents of California rushed and ran and screamed all around them. Hurriedly racing to the nearest safe haven, the Colfax bunker. Whether it was crying families lead by an angry nervous gun-toting dad, singles running off by themselves, or people on bicycles and longboards managing to find footing and flat enough places in the pock-marked road to get away quickly, people of all kinds ran past and barely paid any mind to the young couple of a thin blonde man and a plump blonde woman plodding slowly along with strange looks in their eyes.
Deep in the earth lay a sturdy and complicated bunker, run efficiently and effectively by a crew of competent folks. They have folks for plumbing and electrical, there’s a crew of doctors and a crew of therapists. There’s people for people and they take pride in their training and discipline. However, they did not expect such a large amount of people to join them in the bunker when the alarms sounded and bombs were dropping. They just didn’t know there was going to be this many.
Every crewmate’s monitor readings where 60% above the original usage plan. All the people coming in required more power to function in the bunker. It’s just how it was. Captain DeFranco knew how to solve this problem and he had a plan for it. But he needed help.
The sounds of explosions and rumblies shook the walls of the underground bunker. The hanging fluorescent lights flickered and bounced around, throwing ghastly shadows against the walls. The residents of LA who made it in huddled closely together in fear under the constant state of war that their once great city had become.
In the upper floors of the place, closer to the action, members of DeFranco’s crew raced to secure the place. Capt. DeFranco was rushing about the catwalks looking at the readings on his monitor tablet.
He called into his radio "Captain Dawson of Sector A-B, this is Captain DeFranco of sector C-D. Do you copy, over?"
"Loud and clear DeFranco, what’s your message, over?"
He checked his readings again "According to my device, we are using an abnormal amount of electricity for the closure of the doors. We’ve transferred as much power as we could from all non-crucial sources for the time being. Do you have any similar readings? Over."
"That sounds like a you-problem! We have executed the same power conservation protocol in our sector that you have, over."
Reluctantly, the DeFranco replied, “Copy that, we’ll look into it, over.” He then radioed his electrical crew "Find the source of this extra power usage we need those doors shut NOW! Over."
Keith and Meghan found a spot to hide away from all the noise of the war happening on the surface above. They separated from the crowd of hysterics flowing into the bunker by slipping down an access tunnel where the door was left ajar. They then ascended and descended a flight of stairs or two and found themselves a nice little utility closet to hide in. This cozy little-ass closet had a single electrical outlet for the two of them to share, a stack of metal shelves against one wall stocked with cleaning supplies. The other wall was lined with electrical boxes and complicated-looking twists and turns of metal piping.
They took this opportunity to record and attempt to upload one final episode of Adventures in Roommating before they descended into the unknown future waiting for them in the bunker. Meghan sat on the floor with her back to the electrical pipes and her knees pulled in as close to her face as her belly would let them get. Keith sat in a similar position opposite her, easily sliding his boney bitch-ass pale knees into his mouth (lol not really, just real fuckin close.) Meghan held her phone between them with the Voice Recorder app open, ready to record a low-budget, shit-quality, very last episode of their podcast.
Meghan whispered into the mic, “What up my big beautiful bebes, this is Meghan Tonjes and Keith Who-Cares-Whatever-The-Fuck, bringing you the final episode of Adventures in Roommating: A special ASMR addition.”
“Please excuse any explosions, rumblies, or human screams you may hear in the background,” Keith interjected, “as we are currently hiding in a utility closet in an underground bunker.”
Taking control again Meghan said, “Listen bitch, don’t interrupt me, but yes, yes that is our situation. This will be our final episode until we figure out how to podcast from a bunker… But we are still unsure of the internet situation here, so just call this the last one.”
“There was some fuckin hellfire shit out there! There’s about half a gig of data left now, so we’ll try to hurry this up and give you the abridged addition…” Keith breathed out. And they began their podcast with the story of the pair witnessing the coming of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse.
“If anyone can even hear us, if you managed to download or stream this from where ever the hell you managed, thank you for so much for staying with us, nothing matters, goodnight and goodbye,” They laugh.
The podcast ends with a final note from Keith, “Seriously though, goodnight and goodbye forever.”
Meghan stood, stretched, and began to open compartments on the electrical utility wall, searching for a chord or adaptor or monitor, something that will help them upload the podcast. She finds a thicc work laptop with a hardwire connection to the main communications line. She quickly logged into Soundcloud and plugged in her phone, working her fast computer magic skills to transfer the unedited files to the hard drive, then begin the upload to Soundcloud.
They both sighed with relief as the upload took at a reasonable speed.
Keith approached Meghan from behind and put his hands on her hips. He pressed himself agaisnt her backside and kissed her neck. Meghan sighed and relaxed a bit, she turned around with the upload bar at about 40%, to meet Keith’s upload bar at about 100% with her hand.
Lieutenant Zaragoza approached the utility closet door, he could see the fluorescent light blaring from underneath the door, the readings on his tablet were going fucking mad. “This has to be it,” he sighed with relief, Capt. DeFranco wouldn’t have his ass for dinner tonight. Loud noises and fart jokes weren’t getting him very far with the bunker crew, this would surely redeem him.
As he put his hand on the silver knob, he heard what sounded like voices on the other side. “What the hell,” He thought, “No one else is in this level, who the hell could be in there.”