#ldoe

I woke up to cold air fanning my right cheek and the annoyingly persistent sound of a siren. I tried to take a deep breath and felt a sharp pain in my chest. Then it all came back - the Mickey Mouse Band-Aid, the carrot sticks, the blinding light.

The car rammed into an old Oak tree, while the other vehicle was not in sight. I was in the right lane, damn it!

I turned to my right to check on my pregnant wife and saw that the car door was cracked open. I struggled with my seat belt as I twisted to look at the backseat, and saw both rear doors opened wide.

My six-year-old was not there anymore.

But I heard a siren! It could be the local cops, or it could be the ambulance. I was comforted by the thought that my little family was being tended to. God, I hope they're okay. I hope my unborn son is okay. Çaroline won’t forgive me if anything happened to our children.

I’m a bloody idiot.

I leaned to the window on my left and tried to calm myself. I will leave it to the professionals to take me out of the car. I inhaled deeply and my chest reminded me that I could be in serious trouble.

My vision was becoming hazy. I could use a nap. That's right! I'll take a nap while waiting for the responders to drag me out of this darn box of metal.

The bloody siren was still wailing. Still persistent, still annoying.

I opened my eyes as I felt a dull thud on my window. It was still dark and my vision was a little blurry. The figure knocking on my door seemed to be a man. Why didn't the wanker just open it himself? Or he could have just pulled me through the gaping door on my right. Was it protocol? Is he a newbie?

I tried to help him a bit, the poor tosser. Gritting my teeth as I ignored the pain in my chest, I managed to open the door a few inches, took a breath and pushed it. I would have marveled at the strength I apparently have despite my current condition, had I not realize that I'm falling face first to the concrete.

"What's wrong… What the bloody hell is wrong with you?"

He grunted.

"I could use a little help here, mate." I tried to turn on my side, my anger fuelling me, and felt something drip on my forehead.

Concussion.

That's it, I probably have a concussion. Nothing could have explained the monstrous face I'm seeing other than that. And he's wearing the local hospital's uniform. I doubt that they would hire my rescuer if he looked vile enough to cause an apoplexy among the patients.

"Can you give me a hand, mate?"

I shifted my gaze to his arm, or rather to where his left arm was supposed to be, and saw a bloody stump. Horrified, I took a good look at his face as he stumbled towards me and saw dark blood oozing from his right eye.

I wanted to scream but my throat seemed to be wound tight. I was paralyzed from fear - fear of the unknown.

But that was not true. I knew what it is, but my brain wouldn't accept the floundering rotten nightmare staggering towards me for it defies logic.

Logic came in the form of a loud crack in the air.

And down went my rescuer.

Next thing I knew I was staring straight to the dark black hole of a shotgun barrel.

My ears were still ringing when I heard a raspy voice asked, "Where were you bitten?"

"I - I wasn't," I cleared my throat and said, "That's my car, mate." I pointed to the raspy-voiced man with the shotgun, which, unfortunately, remained aimed at my face.

"We were in an accident. My wife... And my daughter," I began as I pushed myself to a sitting position. The man looked older than me and Caroline - fifteen to twenty years, give or take.

He had a complete set of limbs though, and that was good enough for me.

"My wife's pregnant. They were with me..." I attempted to look around for any sign of my family but the pain I felt in my chest and the kink in my neck limited my range of motion.

"What's your name?"

"I'm Nick. Look, mate -"

"Well you don't look good, Nick." He cut me off but I didn't harbor any ill feelings toward him for he moved his shotgun away from my face, lent me his arm and helped me stand.

I grunted and felt a sting on my leg, on top of the pain in my chest and the throbbing in my head. He helped me limp towards an old faded blue pickup, parked a few meters away from a police vehicle. The annoyingly persistent wailing that comforted me earlier sent chills through my spine. The wailing was from the police car lying on its side, the door on the driver's side open.

Where's my wife? Where's Lizzie?

"My phone! Mate, I have to retrieve my phone from the car.”

His stare could have made a grown man cry, but I was determined to get my bloody phone even if I have to crawl back to the vehicle.

He dragged me towards the back of the pickup and helped me up the box floor. He ran towards my car as I take inventory of the wooden crates beside me.

The crates were filled with guns - tons of guns and ammunition. My rescuer is a dangerous man.

I heard another loud crack and only then did I notice a monstrosity of a cop fall down on the pavement, his head blown off, less than three feet from where I was resting.

I gulped and looked at my rescuer.

"Give me a little warning, will you mate," I mumbled, quite certain that he heard it but chose to ignore me. He only raised his left eyebrow and handed me a sleek white device. I turned it over and the glass was broken.

"I also found this."

He gave me the twin to my mobile device – also white but encased in bright pink silicon.

Caroline's.

It's powered on and working. Except the signal bars were all gone, just like my hopes of communicating with her.

The man pulled what appears to be a penlight out of a brown duffel bag on top of the crates behind me and pointed the lit end to my eyes.

“I need to find my wife and daughter,” I said firmly.

“What you need is a doctor.”

"Aren’t you a doctor?"

"I'm an arms dealer," he said nonchalantly. "Your pupils are reacting alright. How many are these?"

I counted his fingers and said, "Four."

"What day is it?"

"Saturday," I answered quickly.

"Wrong," he murmured. "Your ribs might be bruised, hopefully not broken, but you'll live," he told me confidently. “Probably,” he added as an afterthought.

My ribs beg to differ, but I don't have the energy to argue with the man. He removed his jacket, and said, "You'll need it more," when I stared dumbly at his dirty white wife beater.

"You're staying here, and I’ll be inside. Driving," he told me as he lined up the crates and zipped up the bags. "The first sign that you're turning, I'll kick you off this truck. Capisce?"

I nodded and asked, "Wrong? You said it wasn’t Saturday. How - what time is it?" I looked at Caroline's phone and saw two things. First, the battery is still 47%. I could work with that. Second, it's 5:23 AM. We left Kat's at 7 PM sharp last night.

The sun will be rising any minute now.

"It's already Sunday," I murmured.

"Wrong," he tersely replied while securing the tailgate. I didn’t hear him speak again until he rounded the truck. “Today,” he said as he opened his door. "... is the last day on earth."

I heard the engine start as the first hint of daylight appeared on the horizon.