END OF ALL THINGS - An Apocalyptic Fairy Tale & Love Story

Chapter 14

I take a few packs of coffee containing different flavors, the strainer cup for the filter, and an empty pot back to the rear of the building, back into the storage area. When I left Ariel up front, I told her to come running if someone tried to break in. She promised she would and then I had departed.

My attention is split between the task at hand and being on guard for trouble. While my eyes search for the right spot to pull off my plan, my ears tune into the surrounding environment, hypersensitive to any sounds that seem out of the ordinary. In the storage room, stacks of books and boxes dominate the shelves and a large number of pallets on the floor. Past the manager's office, I stumble across a breakroom where I find a crockpot with its deep ceramic bowl insert. My eyes light up at the discovery.

There's no good way to make a fire inside a building and it's not smart. So many things could wrong, but my main concern is carbon monoxide. I have no way to vent the flames to the outside without opening the back door, and I don't want to do that because I don't want to attract anyone.

I shake my head because I don't have a choice. I can't do this indoors. Any fire will fill this place up with smoke and drive me out of the room, so I take everything outside. Fortunately, there's a loading dock that slants down toward a garage door and has high concrete side walls, which provide some cover. Down in the below grade ramp, I set up the crockpot bowl, and using small branch fragments from fallen tree limbs and cardboard and paper to start the fire, I get a healthy, but small blaze burning. The sticks I'm burning take up about half of the space inside the bowl or more. The flames lick the air, escaping the top of the bowl, like a much smaller version of a fifty-five-gallon drum fire.

I use an air conditioner vent cover as a grilling surface, laying it on top of the ceramic bowl. Now, I have all the makings of a stove burner. I add the pot of water and bring it to a boil. It takes longer than I expected and requires adding more wood to keep the fire hot, but it works. Once it's boiling, I pour the water over the coffee grounds inside the strainer, through the filter. Soon, I have a pot of coffee.

I pump my fist, put out the fire and head back inside with the pot in hand.

Behind the coffee bar, I scrounge up two cups and fill them with the dark liquid, steam billowing, aroma floating in the air. Ariel holds the flashlight while I work, aided by a pair of candles she had brought over.

"Hmm. Let me guess?" She sniffs the air. "Caramel mocha?"

A warm feeling of success flushes my cheeks, and I can't hide my wide grin that comes with it.

"I knew it," she says.

"It's hard to go wrong with those flavors."

"Dang straight." Ariel's face beams, and I can't deny that seeing her happy makes me feel good inside.

"I think an unopened bottle of that caramel syrup over there will work." I check the expiration date. "Yep. It's good. And as a base instead of milk or half-and-half, we can use our powdered creamer. No electricity means no refrigeration, and that means no whipped cream. Our lattes won't be as good as what we remember, but it's been almost eight months since I've had one. This will probably taste like heaven."

Ariel bites her bottom lip as I mix up all three ingredients and slap lids on our steaming cups of java. I carry our cups to the table as she brings the lit candles back over.

"This is a flashback to a more civilized time," I say.

"It lives on in us," she replies as we sit across from each other.

I'm taken by the candlelight flickering in her eyes, her irises like a forest ablaze with life. "You first."

She grins, and I stare at her, observing her facial expression and body language to see how she reacts. When her lips graze the cup's lid, I narrow my gaze, holding back, waiting. I home in on the sight of her lips on the cup, my imagination trying to rattle my calm exterior. This girl. This young woman, who, the more time I spend with her, getting to know her, makes me feel something I've only felt once in my life. I've had other girlfriends but only one other girl had me from 'hello'.

"Is it good?"

Her face goes blank, trying to hide her true feelings. "Try it. See what you think."

I raise the cup and allow myself a long sip. "Freaking-A, yes, it's good."

Our smiles mirror each other. I not only pulled it off; I nailed it.

"That's one good, apocalyptic, caramel-mocha latte," she says. Her focus is on the cup until her eyes flick up to mine. "Thank you."

"You've been through so much." I look at her, holding her stare. "I just wanted to give you something that would take your mind off things and make you feel better."

We sip our lattes in the dark by candlelight. I notice her right hand release the cup and inch off by itself in isolation. That's when I make my move and reach across the table, giving her fingers a gentle squeeze, feeling the warmth her touch brings.

"This is our first date," she says, her lips pressed together in a soft smile. "You went to all this trouble for me."

"Ah." I lean back in my chair, acting nonchalant. "It wasn't that much trouble."

"Oh?"

"Well. I had to go outside to make the fire to boil the water."

"I hope no one saw you," she replies.

"I think we're good." I continue to hold her hand, looking into her eyes. "It was worth it. I mean... you were worth it."

A loud thwack snaps us back to reality. By the sound of the report and the look on Ariel's face, I know someone has kicked in the back door.

"Time to take our coffee to go," I say.

We blow out the candles, taking two with us and the box of matches. I snatch up my pack and the tire iron, and we make our exit through the front doors. Before anyone is on to us, we're in our van, peeling out, in search of somewhere else to spend the rest of the night.

But as we leave the small city behind, reaching the top of a hill and start going down, the rider and his red horse appears rounding a curve at the bottom. As we draw near to a head-on collision, we close our eyes and drive straight toward his fiery presence.

We have nowhere else to go.