A Post Apocalyptic Letdown

I'm at my mom's house and there are people running everywhere. There all freaking out. Apparently Blaine and Mel went to the basement to engage some unknown force in a game of wits for their lives. I don't know, I'm a little behind on the story. I'm just tired and confused. I have Shelby's cell phone which we found in the Christmas tree. It's broken and has been duct taped back together. I don't know where my phone is. Presumably with Shelby. I'm sitting on the floor, wrapping presents for Mike. He's going to be mad at me for buying him things when it's not a holiday or anything. But I like giving him presents, so he'll deal with it.

He comes to pick me up and we drive to what appears to be an abandoned factory. My car is parked nearby. It doesn't run, but we walk to it anyway and sit in it and talk, all the while watching the building, looming up in front of us. Suddenly, large explosions erupt over the other side of the factory. Mike tells me that those are the explosions from the war that is going on in the country right on the other side of that building and that we need to run for his car so that we can drive away.

We're almost there when I realise I've forgottten his presents in the backseat of my car. I tell him I need to go back and to wait for me. He tells me to hurry. I grab everything I need, but when I turn around to flash a triumphant smile, he's driving away. I chase the car for three or four blocks, panicking, but he doesn't stop. I give up running and scream at the top of my lungs in a last ditch attempt to get him to come back for me. The car screeches into a u-turn, speeds back in my direction and stops right next to me.

The Metamorphosis

Mike and I are at the Polo Club, which is Mike's house in this instance. There's a back door in the kitchen that leads to a small wood porch. Right against this porch is a round, above ground swimming pool. The weather has been quite monsoonesque of late and the entire backyard is flooded. The pool is covered and I wonder aloud if an alligator could live in there. Certainly in this weather it would be appropriate. Mike lifts the edge of the pool cover and, as though my ponderings had summoned it, the snout of a large reptile is revealed. I tug Mike back toward me in fear of him falling in the pool or the animal deciding it could use a little snack. It seems like the type who would like white meat. It lifts its head up out of the water and comes toward us a bit. I pull Mike inside and throw the door shut as we go running into the house. The door must not have shut completely though, because the alligator pushes its way into the house. It changes into my physically and mentally handicapped uncle in the middle of the kitchen. Mike, assuming everything is okay now, goes upstairs to use the bathroom. I'm left alone with this incarnation of my uncle. He doesn't speak, but slowly shambles toward me, as though he's unused to his body. I'm uneasy and wish Mike hadn't left me here alone. My fears are confirmed when the human body shifts back into that of the largest alligator known to mankind. It fills the entire kitchen and its tail winds its way out the still ajar backdoor. It inches closer and I scream. Mike comes running down the stairs and the reptile quickly resumes the shape of my dear uncle. We usher him back out onto the porch and close the door, firmly this time, behind him. The last we see of him is that impossibly long, green tail slithering back into the water.

Are We Still Here?

Everyone I know is there. We're all sitting in white, wooden folding chairs in the living room of the Polo Club. Chrissy has been shot. She's dead. No one knows who would commit this atrocity. No one knows why. Everyone is confused. Everyone is crushed. This is her funeral. There is food being served at long tables along the side of the room. Mike and I are quietly arguing over this food. The words aren't really important, but he thinks we should have done better, while I argue that we just didn't have enough money to get more. We jab in whispers till we're both close to tears. We're collecting an audience now. A few people are giving us disapproving stares. Then it's over. The mass of people heads out the front door. A young boy leads the way, bounding into the snow that swallows him up to his knees. One by one, families pile into their sensible, four wheel drive, soccer mom cars and leave us. The body has been left in the living room. We're alone with it.

We're alone.