Page 1 of Waves of Fury

Kellen

It’s the end of the world today.

At least that’s what the glossy, smiling daily morning show host says in between giving us healthy Keto-friendly recipes and the latest celebrity gossip, followed by an “important” commercial break about dishwashing detergent.

I’ve lived my entire life waiting for the world to end. And each day, I’m still here, nothing catastrophically erasing my existence from my self-made prison.

Some men would kill to be in my so-called cell. A tower in the heart of the San Francisco Financial District overlooking the glittery bay that’s dotted with boats of all shapes and sizes. My office is bigger than some people’s homes—a wide corner office with floor-to-ceiling windows offering the best views in the bay area.

And yet, it still feels lacking.

My entire life is underwhelming and boring despite my perceived success.

I’m drawn back to the TV that hangs on one solid wall in my office. The news is back on with reports of seismic activity in the Yellowstone area. Though it’s not uncommon, it’s garnered the attention of national news, which means the moon maniacs ormoonieswill load up their RVs and head to the source of the action.

Pathetic.

Unlike the moonies, I sit firmly in the other camp. Skeptics. My earliest memory is of my mother telling me stories of how the big asteroid named Gertrude hit the moon back in the summer of ’73. She’d told me the repercussions of the damages to our gravitational pull would be felt for years to come, ultimately taking out the Earth and all its life with it.

I’m forty now. Still waiting on the supposed apocalypse.

“…and the White House urges everyone to remain calm. Don’t panic buy toilet paper like you all did in 2020.” The newswoman chuckles and waggles a finger at her cohost. “I’m looking at you, Ted.”

I take notice of the “special alert” ribbon running across the bottom of the screen.

Austin, TX and Shreveport, LA both experienced moderate earthquakes in the early hours of the morning. No injuries reported. Some damages to roads and buildings. Austin reported 5.3 and Shreveport reported 5.9 magnitudes.

Thoughts of Texas bring images of my brother to mind. Little Knox. Well, at twenty-eight, he’s obviously not so little anymore, especially after a decade of working the ranch with Dad.

I miss Knox. Miss what we could have had if our father weren’t such a cruel prick whom I couldn’t get away from fast enough.

Austin isn’t the only city in Texas to be having their fair share of unusual activity. The entire state has had alarming, abnormal seismic activity. Internet reports have been claiming that dormant volcanoes are coming back to life—stemming from Yellowstone’s super volcano activity—which is something they’ve been continually monitoring. But volcanoes in Texas? Sounds a bit far-fetched and reaching to me. I still haven’t concluded whether or not the reports came from moonies or not.

If Knox were in trouble, though, he’d call me.

Right?

He would. I know he would.

“Kellen?” Frannie chirps as she enters my office. “Me, Hope, and Gerry are ordering from that new fish place on Pier 15. You want me to grab you something?”

Drawing my attention from my bleak mood, I glance up at her, offering her a stiff smile. “I’m fine. I’ll probably just order my Friday usual.”

She smirks, shaking her head. “Keep eating those meatball subs and you’re going to start looking like me.” Her hand pats her round stomach and she cackles. “If only life were that fair. You’ll probably always be a beefcake.”

This earns her an actual smile from me. Frannie is my closest thing to a friend. Sure, I pay her to be there for me, always checking in on me and making sure my life runs smoothly, but I’ve come to care for her. Though she flirts as though it comes as naturally as breathing, she’s happily married to a retired cop. Ron and Frannie have even managed to drag me out to a football game or two since I’ve known them.

As soon as she leaves, the warmth she brought in with her evaporates. An uneasy chill skitters down my spine. It’s not unusual for me to be in a gloomy mood, but I’m not one for ever feeling anxious. At least, not anymore. Not since I left Texas a decade ago.

My phone beeps in my pocket and I pull it out to read the nationwide weather alert.

Monster tornado wrecks Baltimore without warning.

I frown at the alert. Seismic activity at Yellowstone, two earthquakes, and a monster tornado on the same day. The twisting in my gut tightens.

The doomsday evangelists and moonies will have a field day with this. One side will be predicting four horsemen with trumpets and the other side will put on their helmets, waiting for rocks and other debris to pelt them from space as they blabber on about how “they’ve been warning us for fifty years.” Both will preach that it’s the end.

Death is imminent.

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