Sunshine & Laughter
By: Cecil Adkins
Tags: Science Fiction, Apocalypse, End Of The World, Fiction, Short Story

Sunshine & Laughter

A sweet little story about the end of the world

Photo by Ozark Drones on Unsplash

I nudged Stephen, waking him up. He grunted and squirmed; as much as he hated going down for his afternoon nap, he never seemed in a hurry to get back up. I suppose it was cruel to wake him after what I’d just heard on the news, but there are times when, more than anything else in the world, you just want to have those you love most near you. Especially bad times. Stephen opened his eyes and stared at me for a moment with those shining blue orbs. He was almost three years old, but he still couldn’t talk. That didn’t mean he couldn’t speak volumes; his autism robbed him of speech and a few social skills, but it couldn’t take his heart.

My wife was also taking a nap. Tabby was six months pregnant and was constantly tired. I carried Stephen into our bedroom and sat down on the edge of the bed, placing my son on my knee. He rubbed his eyes, still trying to figure out why he was awake at all. I briefly regretted waking him up, knowing what was about to happen. Still, I pressed on. I gently stroked Tabby’s face until she stirred. She looked up at me with questioning green eyes, not unlike Stephen’s blue ones. Neither of them liked being awakened.

I persuaded her to get up, to come with me outside to play with Stevie. It was unseasonably warm for February. She believed me when I said I wanted to take Stevie outside to play because it was going to get colder the next day. She didn’t know what kind of coldness to which I was referring. I hurried them outside; we didn’t have much time.

We lived out in the country, I guess you could say. There wasn’t another house for at least a mile in any direction, and we liked it that way. If not for our seclusion, there’s no way I could have kept what was about to happen from Tabby. As it was, I already had turned off the television, computer, and cell phones so the outside world couldn’t intrude and ruin the last few minutes we would all have together.

Tabby and I sat on the porch while Stephen played. He didn’t interact with us much; he was content to be in his own little world. We cherished every minute we had with him and loved to watch him play. He picked up his favorite ball — a soft rubber blue one — and threw it around the front yard. He’d run after it, pick it up, and throw it again. The few times that the ball came near the porch, I’d pick it up and bounce it towards him. He cackled wildly when the ball gently bonked him on the head.

Tabby leaned her head over to my shoulder, and I kissed her hair. It wasn’t spring, yet, but the air was so warm and nice that Tabby’s hair had that spring smell that drove me wild. She asked me what was wrong; she could tell I was hiding something. I told her everything was fine, but I don’t think she believed me.

Sunlight splashed through Stephen’s tousled hair. Blue eyes sparkled at me, unaware, carefree. Tiny hands reached out towards me when I grabbed the blue ball. The wind whipped Tabby’s good-smelling hair across my cheek; for some reason, I was reminded of the time, years ago, when, as teenagers, we made love after dark in the playground of the elementary school down the street from where I lived.

I started crying. Tabby insisted there was something wrong with me. But I never had time to tell her. I held her hand, pulled Stevie to my lap, weeping hysterically. We were only minutes away from an electromagnetic pulse and a very big explosion that would wipe out most of the United States.