12|21|12 by Larry Enright Read Free Book Online

Ferret laughed. “They blew the crap out of my place, but they didn’t get me. No sir. Must not a-been using them expensive smart bombs. Guess they could only afford the dumb ones for the likes of me.”
    Cameron exhaled. “I write speeches. It’s what I do. And they’re good speeches. The president thought so… I thought so… Maybe God did pick us for a reason, but why choose me? I don’t have the brains of Loeb or the skills of Bowen, or your religion, Michael, or even Ferret’s dumb luck. I just write.”
    “Grace is a gift that no one deserves,” whispered Michael.
    The oak paneled dining room had seen many a joyous holiday over the years, but it was neither merry nor bright that Christmas. There were no presents under the dead tree and no stockings hung by the chimney. Over the fireplace, an old mantle clock ticked softly. After dinner, Cameron made coffee.
    “And that is why God let you live, Cameron,” said Loeb. “That’s the best cup of coffee I’ve had in a long time.”
    “Amen to that,” smiled Michael.
    “I was a barista at Capital Coffee my junior year. Can you believe it? The pay was lousy, but I got a free coffee IV out of it. It kept me going. I’ve been thinking, Dr. Loeb…”
    “Here we go again,” Bowen pushed his chair back. “I’m going to need more scotch and another cigar for this.”
    “No, seriously, I’ve been thinking about this. If we do survive, maybe there is a place for a writer like me. Maybe I should chronicle this for future generations.”
    Ferret slurped the coffee that had spilled into his saucer and wiped his mouth on the linen tablecloth: “Waste not, want not — that’s what I always say.”
    Loeb shuddered. “That’s assuming, Cameron, that the human race survives at a level somewhere above Cro-Magnon, I presume?”
    “You don’t think we’re going to make it, do you?” said Cameron.
    “Oh, individually we will survive to the end of our days, assuming Bowen doesn’t shoot us first, but one thing is crystal clear. We are not, last I checked, an asexual species. If we don’t find others, specifically if we don’t find any women, our lives and the life of our race will wind down pointlessly, and there will be no future generations to read your chronicles.”
    Ferret smacked the table. “Now you’re talking. I say we each round up as many chippies as we can, screw all day and party all night. Now that’s my kind of salvation.”
    “Ferret?” Loeb said.
    “Yeah what, Doc?”
    “If it comes to that, I’ll shoot you myself.”
    “Don’t you worry Doc, they’ll be plenty for everyone.”
    Outside the window, the night sky was filled with stars, and the moon reflected in pale blue off a fresh covering of snow.
    “For the human race to survive, we must find the others.”
    “We’ve been over this, Doc. The human race is finished.”
    “I refuse to believe that, Bowen.”
    “Believe what you want, it’s over for us.”
    “Can we be a little more positive, people? Maybe we should focus on finding the one who viewed your video, Dr. Loeb?”
    “Look kid,” Bowen scowled. “Don’t you think they would have contacted us by now if they could? Face it. They’re dead.”
    “We should at least try.”
    “Why? What difference does it make? When I die, that’s it; the world ends for me. Whatever happens to you losers after that happens. It’s no concern of mine. I’ll be a dead, rotting corpse.”
    “That’s just cold, Mr. Bowen. We’re people just like you. We’re your own kind. We should stick together.”
    “You’re nothing like me, boy.”
    “You’d feel differently if Carmen were here,” Loeb said.
    “You leave her out of this.”
    “Who’s Carmen?” asked Cameron.
    “Mr. Bowen’s one and only soft spot, apparently.”
    “You shut up before I shut you up, you intellectual nobody.” Bowen grabbed his bottle and stumbled out of the room.
    Loeb raised his glass in a toast and emptied it: “And to all a good night.” He