Raindrops

This is fiction. Nothing in this story actually happened to me, or anyone I know.

Andy had always known he was extraordinary and destined for greatness, but for some reason or another, the chance to prove it had never arrived. But this didn't thwart the powerful energy inside him, even as he completed the most mundane of tasks. And it never waned.

The problem with this indefatigable verve was that it didn't come with a manual or guidelines for how and when to use it. So now, as he approached thirty, yet to accomplish anything great, he was beginning to feel bored, not nervous or excited, and this frightened him.

What if his life lacked purpose?

Was his boredom waging war against his energy?

Andy chewed the inside of his cheek, gnawing at loose skin, working carefully to eliminate the irritation with the expertise and skill of a surgeon removing a cyst. He didn't worry about how this may look to someone watching him, because, per usual, he was walking alone.

A TV in a store window had the news was on and its scroll featured headlines about two wars in different regions and the groups fighting over social conduct, and also one about Earth’s global drought, which explained why the store was closed and no one was outside.

Most people stayed inside as often as possible now.

Andy looked up. The sky was dark gray. It looked like it should be raining and the air was damp and cool, but the ground was dry and the clouds weren't giving in to the raindrops’ goals of leaping towards Earth. It had been like this, rain free, for three months now, all over the world. It was so bad that nearly everything had come to a halt except religiosity and war.

Scientists knew how to prevent rain, and seed clouds for artificial precipitation, but none of these methods were working to stop the tipping point that no one wanted to talk about, but everyone was thinking about, and that date was quickly approaching.

The Fjorkstadt doctrine had attributed the dilemma to a lack of wind caused by the decreasing velocity of Earth's spin, but this was just a theory. No one really knew what was happening, so the consensus was to hold hope that it would rain again.

Ultimately, it didn't matter. If it didn't rain soon, life would perish.

As Andy strolled away from the storefront he wondered if this was logical and Earth was like a human and needed some rest. But what really got to him was that even though “the sun wouldn't come up tomorrow," bureaucrats still insisted he pay taxes and be on call for war.

He lit a cigarette and felt delight as he watched smoke casually twirl and dance from its tip as it slowly rose toward the overcast sky.

Heat still rose. Oxygen still existed. Why was this one thing changing?

He shrugged and swiveled his focus to the mission at hand. He was on his way to the zoo. And why not? He loved animals, he had the day off, and he had no friends.

Glancing at the cement beneath his feet, he felt another shiver of resentment. Everywhere he looked nature was buried in cement and it made the air heavy, dry, and hot, as if someone had stuffed the summer weather of the Sahara Desert and the Amazon Rainforest in a blender, and thanks to lack of wind, the air was stagnant. Even small cities now smelled like a septic tank.

Which explained why people stayed inside. There was no edict. Just common sense.

Two cars jetted down the boulevard and broke the still silence. Andy hoped they weren't also headed to the zoo. He liked to be alone with the animals.

Another car passed and its passenger leaned out the window to yell something at Andy, but he couldn't make it out. He only knew from the laughter of the other passengers that it was mean, so he threw his middle finger towards the rainless sky. However, the car didn’t slow and he was pretty sure his gesture hadn’t taught those kids a thing.

Passing a famous hotel, he slowed to check out the TV in its lobby. It was tuned to a different station, but its news was about the same three things, only this broadcast used more charts, bigger pictures, and bolder fonts.

He reached into his pocket to pull out his phone and take a picture for his never-ending video collage project and anger flashed over him. He'd left it at home. This meant he couldn’t get into the zoo thanks to their new mobile entry policy. He stopped walking, entrenched with a feeling of failure that blossomed into a full-on fit of self-loathing fury that made him want to break things. What things? Anything.

Cursing, he shook his head, tickled with ire. Now he had to turn around, walk all the way home in this awful, stuffy weather, and by the time he got there, the zoo would be closing.

He noticed an old-fashioned newspaper box with a free local magazine inside and without further thought he kicked it as hard as he could with the full weight of his body. Then, anger pulsing from his mind, he indulged in primal rage, obsessed with the task of permanently maiming this relic from the past.

It was a blind wrath, barren of thought, yet physically demanding and oddly fulfilling. But it didn't last long. After a lengthy lapse in consciousness, Andy returned to reality as two stiff hands grabbed him and slammed him into the cement, pinning his shoulders to the ground.

His forehead throbbed as the person who'd done this shouted, “Police! Hold still or I will be forced to make you hold still!” Even though the man said it the way cops say that sort of stuff, Andy wanted to be sure, so he wriggled his head to see, but to no avail.

“I AM ORDERING YOU TO HOLD STILL!”

Andy tried again, but stopped when a taser appeared, inches away. Panic took over and he wanted to apologize and set things straight, but he couldn’t summon his body to perform.

He tensed as he heard the taser click and became further agitated when that was followed by a small hum that terrified him to his core. Bracing himself for the worst, he gave up and went limp, but for some reason his arms became unpinned and he heard the taser shut off.

Then, Andy experienced an event like no other.

There was a loud whistling sound, high pitched and ominous, and it sounded like it was coming from outer space, and it didn't remind Andy of anything he'd heard before. It was accompanied by a vibration that at first reminded him of an earthquake, but the ground wasn't moving. It was coming from the sky. Then, for the first time in months, a cool wind ruffled against his cheek and he heard the distinct sounds of rain pelting a sidewalk.

Andy stood, barely noticing the cop as they each stared at the sky, marveling at the ruffling wind which was now increasing in intensity.

A second officer came out of their parked car behind them to stand with Andy and the cop with the taser, all three dumbfounded, in total awe.

Andy was wondering what would happen if he took off running when a massive raindrop smacked his cheek like a water balloon, stinging his face, but before he could reflect on its magnitude, another chunk of rain the size of a watermelon slammed into the taser cop's head and his neck snapped audibly before his body crumpled to the ground.

Instinctively, Andy ran towards a metal-framed awning, where he tried to assess the situation but he didn't have much time. The awning reverberated like thunder as enormous balls of rain hurtled into it and it sounded like it may soon break.

The cop was clearly dead, but his partner nevertheless knelt over to feel his neck and Andy tried to shout and warn him, but thanks to the deafening rain the cop didn't hear him as a drop the size of a wrecking ball rocketed into his head.

Blood splattered everywhere and it took great focus to stop marveling at the liquid meteorites descending upon the Earth, but thanks to the metal awning's screeching noises, Andy found his wits even amidst the deafening cacophony of rain, sirens, horns, and high-speed traffic collisions taking over the soundscape.

He wasn't sure what to do, but his paranoia was palpable as enormous raindrops pulverized most of the parked cars and windshields along the boulevard.

But not all of them. The police car, with its driver’s door ajar, was still intact, thanks to bulletproof glass. Andy sprinted and hopped in the driver’s seat, but he needed the keys so he had to jump out, run back to the cops and find the key.

Luck was on his side—he found them in the first cop's pocket, but as he grabbed them he heard loud scraping noises and turned in time to see the metal awning crash to the ground.

He raced back to the car, turned the key, and slammed his foot into the gas pedal, and it took off—fast—along the one-way boulevard. He had to weave the powerful car between many smashed and ruined cars, trying to look inside each one in case someone was alive and needed his help, but every human was now a mutilated corpse. One of the cars, now flattened, was the one with the teenagers who'd laughed at him.

The raindrops began to decrease in size, but the downpour was increasing which now made it hard to see out so with little warning he had to slam the brakes to avoid colliding with an overturned Cybertruck taking up both lanes of the boulevard.

There was no way around it, but just as he was about to throw the car in reverse, he heard a child crying from the inside the Cybertruck.

Without a thought he ran to the vehicle, hoisting himself on its side to peer through a window, miraculously still intact, where he saw a boy fastened to a safety seat. Andy shoved his elbow into the glass as hard as he could, but it didn't even wobble and based on the pain in his elbow, he was pretty sure he'd broken something.

Wincing, he shouted to the child that 'everything would be OK,' before jogging back to the cop car, squeezing his elbow to distract himself from the pain.

The raindrops were now falling at a rate that would be considered normal in a hurricane, but they were definitely no longer large enough to kill on impact, so Andy felt oddly confident as he grabbed a billy club and ran back to the Cybertruck.

He again hoisted himself onto the side, then struck the window with a deft manuever designed to prevent the shards from striking the boy. It worked, he thought as he dove head first into the car. Inside, he unfastened the child then pinned him in his armpit like a football before pulling them up through the smashed window.

Shards of glass pricked Andy's face and arms, drawing blood, but the child was unharmed, and he couldn't help but smirk at his own heroism. He put the infant in the passenger seat of the police car, but he was too small to strap in, so he sat him up against the seat and gave him a stern look of confidence, to again convey that everything would be OK. Andy was here!

Pressing the boy with his right hand against the seat, he used his other hand to shift the car into reverse to turn it around to travel in the wrong direction down the one-way boulevard, but an intense sense of fear told him that just because he'd been blocked by the Cybertruck didn't mean this idea was safe. No one seemed to be obeying any laws. He took his foot off the gas to think and his eyes drifted to the console where he spied a switch that said, “sirens and lights." He flicked it, smiled, then accelerated the car and sure enough, two cars coming towards him saw the lights and pulled over to allow him to pass.

Catastrophe lay in every direction. Cars and buildings looked like they'd been bombed, and the sky was dark from smoldering smoke from electrical fires.

He glanced at the child and could tell he was terrified, but too young to say so, so Andy reflexively reached over to wipe some tears from the kid’s eyes, repeating the mantra: Everything will be OK. Everything will be OK.

This seemed to work, so he took his hand back to reach in his pocket and pull out a cigarette, but then he remembered that great men lead by example. He took the pack from his pocket, unrolled the window, and threw it and the unlit cigarette into the street, then blushed. Littering was not a great example either.

Oh well, it was his first day as a hero. There had to be a learning curve.

The child entered into hysterics and Andy hoped it wasn't from the same ghastly sight he couldn't unsee, from what he'd witnessed in the Cybertruck. But try as he might, Andy couldn't stop picturing the decapitated woman's head in front of the safety seat. He could only presume it was the child's mother.

Longing for a cigarette to chase the image away, it hit him. The great irony of this moment. Andy had always felt he was destined for greatness, but now that it was here and he'd met the challenge, it didn't feel good. He'd rather be bored.

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This week on Coffin Talk: Mike interviews Malisa Hepner, the host of Emotionally Unavailable. Her dad died of an overdose when she was 15 and she lost her mom at 22. She worked full time in hospice until she became a Licensed Clinical Social Worker, specializing in trauma and grief. She's also an author and public speaker. Listen Here.