Reality's Escape: a collection of short stories

The Appointed Time

New Year's Prompt from blog.reedsy.com!

"Great job with the play, Keri! You planning on doing one next year too?"
I laughed, packing a garbage bag with dropped costumes, broken props, and my narrator's script, then climbed down the stage steps. "I don't know, Susan. These kids..." I mimed pulling my hair out of my head.
Susan smiled with all her "pastor's wife" grace. "I thought you did very well."
"Thanks. Where are you going for the countdown tonight?"
"We're planning on going to the Penners'. They usually have a big group there."
"Cool. I think I'll be heading there too, after I finish cleaning up."
"Do you need any help?"
"Naw, it's just a few bits and pieces." I picked up my bag. "And I'll lock up when I leave, too, so you're good to go already."
"I will see you there, then. Zach? Are you finished what you needed to do?"
The broad blond looked up from his phone. "Yup."
"Oh." Susan looked up at the stage screen behind me. "You should turn the countdown off, Zach. We're not staying here."
He glanced up and frowned. "I didn't put it on." He headed back to the sound booth.
I turned to look at the screen. 2:28:01 — 2:28:00 — 2:27:59. The white numbers were ticking down against a black background. "Maybe Abe did," I suggested, hauling my stuff down the aisle. "Or Tony, or Benji."
Zach was frowning at the laptop screen. "It won't turn off. I'll text them. Maybe they were planning on coming back."

I hoisted the last bag in, pulled the back hatch down, and went inside to grab my purse yet.
"That is very strange," I heard Susan's voice saying.
"Maybe it's just a glitch," John suggested.
Entering the sanctuary, I seen the parents squeezed into the sound booth, huddling over the boy at the controls.
"Is everything all right?"
"None of the guys set it," Zach explained. "And the screen's frozen, so I can't change it, but the projector is working fine."
"Can't you turn the projector off?"
"With the laptop."
"But it's got a sleep function, right? It won't use power all night."
"Yeah, it should be fine."
We all trooped out, turning off the lights and locking the doors, and headed to the Penner's place.

It was a riot. There were kids screaming as they chased each other down the steps and around the foyer. The parents were attempting intellectual conversation in the living room. My group of friends were piled on the couches— or lack thereof— around the TV, which had remarkably not been turned on yet. They were carrying on a lively argument over genres of music.
"Maybe, just maybe," I said with as much dramatic flair as I could muster, "We all have different tastes."
Only Alex and Sara heard me, and they both grinned.
"Maybe my taste is better than your taste," my brother smirked.
Sara pulled me down beside her. "Come on, Keri. You're not gonna side with rap and heavy metal, are you?"
"No!"
"Well, no one's said anything about classical yet, so you'd better defend it," she whispered before turning back to the crowd and loudly objecting Caleb's latest claim.
I just laughed and sat back, watching them fight so hard for something that didn't matter in the least.
"Snacks!" came a shout from upstairs. Then came the stampede.

"Marian!"
"What, Mom?"
"Can you check the router? I think the wifi's down again."
"I already unplugged it and plugged it back in."
"What?"
Marian struggled out of her comfy spot and made to the steps without tripping over the blankets and pillows scattered on the floor. Mary was leaning over the railing.
"I already unplugged it and plugged it back in," she repeated. "And nobody's data is working either. The network's probably down from so many people streaming."

The vote had been cast, and we were going to watch Jumanji even though Zach and Caleb protested that they had seen it "millions" of times and it was "so boring". We had the DVD at our house, so I was driving to go get it. I laughed to myself while taking the corner. We were so reliant on our screens, these were the lengths we would go to for easy entertainment.
My laughter stopped as I caught sight of the church house. The stained glass windows were flashing, sending pink, blue, and green rays glaring at the opposing houses for a spilt second, then darkness, then again. A honk blared. I looked back at the road just in time to swerve away from an approaching car. I waited till it passed, then pulled into the driveway.
What was going on? The countdown hadn't been this bright. We had turned off all the lights, the doors were locked, these windows didn't look broken, and there was no way I was walking around the back in the dark to check the windows there. There was only one thing I could do. I pulled my keys out of the ignition and got out of the car. I shot a text to Mom, but of course the "sending failed" message popped up right aways. "Fine," I muttered. I turned the camera on video instead and stuck it into my front pocket, thanking God for the first time that women's pants had such ridiculously small pockets. The eye could see nearly everything I could, and would record it all. My hands shook with the keys as I found the right one and inserted it. This was freaking me out, but if someone was desecrating our building, I wasn't going to let them get away with it.
All four light switches gave no response. I would have turned on my flashlight, but of course I couldn't video tape then: and I needed proof of whatever was going on more than I needed to see. I started up the stairs. It was good that my childhood had involved running races and playing hide-and-seek around this building, because I knew my way around fairly well. I debated going through the basement and into the sanctuary from the back but decided against it. There were no windows in the door there.
I crept up the stairs, thankful I wasn't wearing heels. My boots trod softly enough. The same flashing I had seen from outside was coming through the windows from the sanctuary. I walked towards the window and peeked through it. Everything was black. Then it flashed, and in that instant I seen the numbers 1:39:54 in black against a white screen. The surprise sent me backwards to the floor. I grunted and pressed myself to the wall in case anyone had heard me. After my breathing slowed, I looked again. There was nothing to be heard. The stillness was beginning to press on my eardrums. The numbers flashed on. 1:38:11 — 1:38:10 — 1:38:09.
This was freaky. Why was it so bright? I whispered a prayer and pushed the door open, flinching. It kept flashing, only now I realized that the lights in the wall sconces were flicking on and off too, in time with the screen. I stepped in. Nothing ceased my progress. 1:37:38 — 1:37:37 — 1:37:36. I climbed into the sound booth. The screen here was doing the same thing as the big one now. I jiggled the mouse and clicked it, tapped around on the keyboard, but no response. 1:37:21 — 1:37:20 — 1:37:19.
What was on the stage? That— package?— hadn't been there before. I stepped up the stairs carefully. It was a strange contraption, almost knee high, with wires twining in and out of it. On the top was a clock, and the time it was ticking down was identical to the countdown on the big screen. Something told me that it wasn't going to shoot confetti.
I ran out of the building and locked the door. My car started up just fine, which somewhat surprised me. I drove back to the Penners' and went straight to the living room. "There's a bomb in the church." I told them what had happened as fast as I could, pulling out my phone to show them the video— but it was dead.
"Sounds like a trick by someone who's got too much time on their hands," Dad grumbled. "Are you sure you locked the door before, Keri?"
"Yes." I nodded. "And there was no one there now. It was really weird."
"I can go check it out," Abe said. "Pete, you come with me. If it's legit, I can text— no, the system's down."
"Keegan!" Mary was yelling over the banister again. "Bring your walkie-talkies!"
"Why?" came the response from far below.
"Just bring them!"
When the seven-year-old came up with his bright blue toys, she gave a brief explanation, took them away and handed one to the investigators. "I'll keep one here. Stay on channel four."
The other teens had heard the commotion and came up to wait with us in tense silence. Finally the radio crackled.
"I think it's a real bomb."
There was a long moment.
Mary picked up the radio. "Copy that."
"I'm taking the kids," Mom announced. "Hon, are you coming?"
"No." Dad looked around at us. "We've still got time. We need to warn the neighbours—" he grabbed Mom and gave her a kiss, short and hard. "You take the kids. As many as will fit in the Armada. Drive fast. You teenagers, always so full of energy, now we're going to make use of it. We don't know how big this bomb is. We need to get people out of here."
"You start here, since Lisa's taking your vehicle," John directed. "Zach, Caleb, I can take some of you guys in the van. I'll drop you off on different streets. Alex, Philip, Josh, come with me too."
"Marian, can we take your car?" I didn't wait for a response. I fished my own keys from my pocket and pressed them into Susan's hands, pushing her towards Mom. "You and Nancy take the rest of the kids. My trunk is really big. Let's go!"
The guys were already gone. Sara grabbed her backpack on the way out the door. I checked my phone while chasing Marian to her car. It was 10:46.