Out of Time, Out of Luck

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Mystery and Crime  |  House: Booksie Classic

When life becomes too difficult, there is only one thing to do: kill everyone.

Out of Time, Out of Luck

 By Joseph Logsdon

Rightly or wrongly, Peter knew that he had very little time left. He looked at the people around him, a disgusted expression on his face, one that screamed hatred and shock. They were doomed, every one of them, and the worst part of all, they didn’t even seem to care, which was, no question about it, more tragic than just about anything. Peter stared into space, tolerant of nothing and no one. He tried to push the dangerous thoughts out of his head, unsuccessful in just about every attempt, hundreds of agonizing ideas eventually creeping into his lonely mind. He realized, as did everyone, that at midnight, possibly even sooner, the entire region would no longer exist. The worrisome thoughts ripped away at him, much like a sickness that refused to relent.

Everyone around him, male and female, black and white, people of all nationalities and backgrounds, didn’t really seem to understand the gravity of the situation. Peter thought about leaving his seat, only to change his mind shortly after, none of his former strength present. The majority of the crowd laughed, quite a few of them danced, while others didn’t really appear to do anything, and that was probably the most tragic part of all. They stared at their phones, interested only in one thing: themselves. Nothing else mattered, morality and decency least of all. They were consumed by greed and lust, virtue completely absent from their hearts. It was a party that knew no limits, even the biggest of crimes being overlooked, their only concern money and profit. Peter stared at the dullness of his uninspired table, sick with a morbid bitterness. It was the same, always the same things that made him, more or less, doomed to suffer the wrath of nature.  

Right across from where Peter resided, a woman slowly inhaled smoke into her lungs, zero regard for the people around her. She sat perfectly still, any movement limited to just a few twitches. She slowly looked into his eyes, almost humbled by his soft demeanor, by his quiet, though rough nature. They were both silent, content with simply watching the people around them.

“You’re awfully quiet,” she said, a smile on her face.

“What’s wrong with that, if I may be so bold?”

“It’s just unusual, I guess is what I meant to say,” she remarked, taking a sip of wine.

“This world is full of unusual people, plenty of them in this saloon. For example, isn’t it strange that these people, all of them, young, old, whatever, know that there is a bomb threat, a very serious one by all accounts, and yet, no qualms about it, they choose to remain here, this building of all places? Wouldn’t you think, given that they have this information, I’m talking information that would save their lives, that they would choose to run, what any normal person would do, instead of stay here, no questions asked?”

“Well, minus some miracle, and I don’t believe in miracles, we all must die, some sooner than others. Why focus on the negative, the aspects of life that can’t be changed, can’t be avoided, overturned, overcome, when instead, we could be, as so many people have suggested, just letting loose? We’re all going to die; it’s just a matter of when, as they say,” she said.

Peter stared at her golden hair, something that could be considered lust in his eyes, his soul more than anything else. She was very different from the other women he had known. There was a look of curiosity, akin to if she had suddenly looked into his soul, right into the heart of his mind, purely and gracefully. They were very much attuned with each other, at one with the energy between them.

“That’s the problem with girls like you; you just don’t seem to understand the value of life. You party night and day, deluded by your false sense of entitlement, unwilling to actually help anyone, only yourself and no one else. I think it would be perfectly moral, no, I know it would be moral, to actually just kill the whole lot of you: man, woman, and child. It would be perfectly justifiable to just get rid of everyone, you included. You can all die here, side by side, for the world to see,” he chuckled.

“Well, the way you’re talking, not to sound harsh, though I suppose there’s no other way to put it, it almost seems that you made that bomb threat,” she said, nervousness in her voice.

“I did, in case you’re wondering,” he admitted, flexing his hands.

Her eyes opened wide, for the first time realizing the reality of the situation. She gazed at the people around her, well aware that they would never believe her, or more than that, it was assumed that they wouldn’t even care. She found herself panting, gasping for valuable air, helpless to actually make any kind of difference, small or big. Her head started to spin with force, assisted by an incredible amount of heartache.

“Where is it, this bomb of yours?”

“It’s beneath the table, its patience running thin,” he chuckled, relaxed to the highest degree.

“You’re going to kill everyone, all in one moment?”

“Give me one reason, not even a good one, just any reason, why I shouldn’t do it. It’s better for you, for me, everyone considered, if it all just ends, now and forever, ideally without struggle or resistance. Plainly stated, this is an attempt at ratification, my first and only attempt. I’m not that bad of a guy. I have a child, a boy, who means more to me than most people know. I’m taking many medications, ten in total, which is a higher number than I need. Some people will say things like, ‘Life is a party, just enjoy yourself,’ and stuff like, ‘Forget morality, just live your life,’ so they can justify, often quite poorly, their selfish behavior. They’re sinners, right down to the very last one of them,” he huffed.

“So what if they’re sinners, does that justify murdering them? Your god, what’s his name, Jesus, certainly wouldn’t approve of this; that is, unless you’re some kind of, there’s a name for them, fundamentalist, though I’m guessing you are, no offense intended. You have the ability to be a better man. I would advise you to keep faith in humanity, if anything because of your child, a boy who needs his father alive, breathing and free, thankful and happy, as it should’ve been from the start, all those years ago, when you were young and full of life, still guided by energy and spirit, a man worth loving, appreciating with hope, tied and packaged with honesty, to be loved for always,” she cried.

“You don’t know anything about me.”

“You don’t think I know what a broken man looks like? They come in all sizes: fat, muscular, skinny, often somewhere in between. I know a lot about you, your name of the least interest to me,” she said.

“You can talk all night, I don’t really care, but nothing is going to prevent me from doing this,” he replied.

Peter formed a smile on his face, death no longer of any concern to him. He looked at the people around him, at how pathetic they were, in both manner and appearance, to satisfy his sick, undeniably twisted needs, added on by his desire for blood, misery, and, in his own way, a sense of justice. The bomb was under the table, ready to explode at any minute, any second within the hour. She kept her head straight, resigned to her gruesome fate, comforted by nothing but the sweet sound of death. The tears in her eyes, sadness overwhelming them, moved her to a place of isolation, her only hope of salvation, maybe besides complete mental shutdown, being to pray to God, a god she had rejected repeatedly, many times without justification.

“The end is near,” he chuckled.

“Well, this clearly being nothing but an attempt at humiliation, one that I reject, I just don’t care anymore: not about you, not about the bomb, not about anything. Go ahead, blow us up, see where that gets you,” she cried.

“It’ll get me here, there, anywhere and everywhere, with a little courage mixed in. It’s going to happen soon, any second I desire it to occur,” he chuckled.

“Well, if your god does exist, something I doubt, he’s not going to be very pleased, you know, with you blowing us up and all,” she taunted.

“Belief in God is stupid, even stupider to actually pray to any god, Christ especially. Well, it really doesn’t matter, because five seconds to midnight, roughly in three seconds, give or take, this entire building, that goes for you as well, will be gone, starting in three, two, one, boom!” 

The End




Submitted: July 09, 2016

© Copyright 2021 JL reaper. All rights reserved.

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Add Your Comments:



This was a very powerful piece. I feel like it spoke volumes to the society that we live in now. It was also very well written and detailed. Great job.

Thu, July 14th, 2016 4:02pm

Phantom Crisis

Amazing! and I love how the story is being written. It seems that Peter is an anti-Christ, or he doesn't believe in God. As for my observation to the main character he will only believe in God if the Bomb will not blow up. Well in this time we should not test God's power. But anyway I love your work, It will inspire A lot of readers.......

Wed, May 30th, 2018 8:12am

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