Rebecca Sawyer awakes from a night of partying to find that every human being she's ever known has gone missing.
I jolt awake. My head is throbbing, the back of my throat is sore from the abuse of the salt. I lean over and see remnants of lime scattered about my nightstand. Some are eaten; some are just browning on the floor amongst piles of clothes. My mouth tastes like cheap tequila.
I sit up very slowly, and my stomach rolls several times. Water. Gatorade.
Wandering into the hall, I see the front door is open wide. Since the sun is streaming in I walk to close it, “Thanks guys.”
Where are the guys? Both bedrooms are open, my roommates are gone. Gone to breakfast? Unlikely, it’s 7:34AM. Why am I up? Water.
I reach into the fridge and grab the Brita. I remember coming home last night, we made food… It gets fuzzy but I remember they were with me and we made it home. Maybe I fell asleep and they decided to keep the party going without me. I couldn't blame them for that.
Sipping the water I’ve just poured I grab my phone, and flip it open. Nothing happens. Searching for my charger, which is always in exactly the same place, I find an empty outlet with a phantom sun mark surrounding it where my charger used to be. I search my room, thinking maybe I wanted my phone closer to my bed. I do remember texting Luke. I find a sombrero, half a dozen tea lights, and an ancient picture of Luke and I. But no charger.
Glancing into Karen’s room I don’t see anything that looks like black cable so I move on. Spend an hour or more in the room of the girl who lost her graduation attire in the space of six square feet? No thanks.
Kyle’s room is another story. His space is neat, punctuated with masculine shades, almost as if he was still nervous that his mom was going to walk in. I gently pull open his desk drawers, and the insides perfectly match the outsides, organized by size and color of item.
He doesn’t even have his own phone charger in here. His iPhone probably has an app for charging.
Where is it? Maybe someone came back with us and stole it. Why would someone steal a phone charger? And then I see it, coiled neatly on the coffee table. I hate my life. I walk towards it and plug it into the wall, connecting my phone. No electricity. I look towards the plug and see a mess of exposed wires have been tucked under the plastic covering. The damage was done by either me or them. I’m betting on me.
While the prospect of facing the glaring accusation of the sun with this hangover is formidable… I have to know what I said to Luke last night. It’s been so long since we’ve spoken, what if I told him about the Australian? What if he has an Australian? No, I’m not going to play mind games with myself all day. I’m just going to go to Radio Shack. It's a ten minute walk.
With sunglasses resembling a cross between Jackie O’s and that of a bull fly, and Gatorade in hand, I step out of the house. Something makes me stop dead. No cars. On a street with probably ten houses, no cars line the road. Usually I have a hard time finding a parking spot.
At the end of the road, maybe thirty feet from me, a chocolate colored Great Dane is staring at me. Usually, Cleaver terrifies me. But today, instead of barking ferociously at the passing crows (and a Great Danes’ bark is exceptionally frightening), he just stares at me. Why is he loose? My neighbors generally keep him behind a chain link fence; Great Danes are big enough to hurt people if they aren’t entirely tame.
I’m staring at him as I sip my Gatorade. He stares right back at me, tipping his head to the side. The front door to his master’s house is wide open.
Do I try to wrestle him back home or keep walking? On any normal day... no. I’d still leave him there. He has a collar for a reason.
Walking down the hill, around the corner and out of the trees that shade my small semi-residential area, I notice that traffic in general is slow today. Dead, actually. There’s not a car in sight. Radio Shack begins to come into focus, and although there are no cars in front the door is wide open.