The First Five Minutes of the Apocalypse by Brandon Applegate

Author:Brandon Applegate
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Brandon Applegate

Breath coming in fast pants, Betty climbed onto the counter. Pressing her face close to the gap, she shouted, “Georgie, are you out there? Are you okay?”

Nothing.

“Georgie, you answer me right now!”

No answer.

He’s inside, Mr. Peterson brought them inside, that’s all, she thought.

The dirty cloud crept closer, and a metal smell like from her dad’s shop stung her nose. She gripped the windowsill, tried to close it, but the thing wouldn’t budge.

“Help, me, someone,” she cried, looking behind her at her classmates tucked beneath their desks, faces hidden. “We have to close the window.”

They’d gone quiet, no more cries for their parents, no one bothering to answer her. Her lips and chin trembled. She pressed on the top of the window, trying to shove it down from above with all her strength. It wouldn’t move. Exhaling a shaky breath, she tugged off her cardigan and shoved it into the gap, dirt from the sill marring the pristine, white fabric.

Pickles chattered in his cage.

“It’s okay.” The words scratched her throat, and she swallowed. “I’m coming.”

Betty lowered her feet from the counter down to the stool, tugging at the hem of her skirt when it crept up to her waist, expecting some comment from Tommy about her underwear, but he said nothing.

She opened the cage door and reached inside. Pickles had let go of the bars, was lying in the wood chips lining the cage floor, panting. She scooped him up, holding him close to her chest as she jumped from the stool and returned to the shelter of her desk.

Pickles breathed too fast, his tiny chest rising and falling against her own. She stroked his soft, brown and white fur. “Shh, it’s okay. I’ll look after you.”

Betty closed her eyes against the acrid air that stung her eyes, her nose, her throat. She wrapped her arms tight around Pickles and hunched over to press her forehead to her knees. “We’re going to be okay,” she whispered. “My dad will come, he promised.”

And when he came, she’d get Georgie and hug him so tight too, and they’d go home to mom, and Pickles would come with them and live in Georgie’s room. He’d like that.

Pickles scrabbled against her, and she held him tighter. “Shh, shh.”

The siren blared to life again, giving a short, sharp blast, followed by another and another. Betty wasn’t a big girl, after all. Tears leaked down her face, soaking her dress and soaking Pickles, who’d stopped moving, stopped struggling, gone completely still.

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