Lillian watched the wreck on the highway smolder as she waited for the tow trucks to arrive. The screaming match between the two drivers was a blissful reprieve from the sweaty bus seat. The bus hadn't moved in almost half an hour, and her nerves were starting to act up again. Her idle tapping drew no more attention than her eye patch usually did.

  Blind in one eye since birth, she had learned long ago to cope with uncomfortable attention. The milky white eye below the leather patch was a byproduct of her birthplace. Such issues were common from the nuclear fallout that plagued the city. Birth defects like hers weren't especially uncommon.

  Long ago, some geniuses decided to bury nuclear waste in the city’s landfill. The dump caught fire shortly before her birth and ignited the buried waste. The conflagration had spread cancer causing radiation throughout the city.

  As Lillian waited for the five-minute ad to end on a mobile game, a Global News notification flashed on her phone; It had been doing that a lot lately. She glanced at the headline and tuned the message out of her mind. The news often spoke of rising tensions between the east and the west and today was no different. The G18 meeting today would be an important step in de-escalating tension. This song and dance had played out so many times in recent years that the threat of global war seemed like an impossibility. Brinkmanship had lost its edge after so many decades of inaction.

  Over an hour later, Lillian hustled off the bus, running her hands through her matted hair in a futile attempt at appearing professional. She had resigned herself to looking like a tomboy soon after she took the job at the deli. Her long black locks made it two full days before the hair net irritated her enough to chop them off. The pixie cut looked okay, but the chill of fall made her miss the flowing locks she’d had before.

  The bus was late again, so Lillian was late, again. She brushed past the crowd of miscreants that loitered at the intersection, careful not to get her apron dirty as she wormed her way into the alley near the bus stop. The dark alley was a necessary risk that saved five valuable minutes from her commute. It’s not like she had anything of value to steal anyways.

  “The end is coming!” shouted a filthy vagrant who called the alley home. Lillian pantomimed an explosion with her hands, much to the homeless man’s delight. The vagrant returned her greeting and gave her a rotten smile. Lillian didn’t prescribe to the Church of the End’s beliefs, but she did her best to make peace with those who had been chewed up and spit out by society. “I’ll try to snag you a sandwich on the way home,” she promised as her ratty sneakers slid around the puddles and potholes. The vagrant continued shouting about the end to the crowd on the street as Lillian made her way through the urban minefield toward the back of the strip. The homeless camps that littered the sidewalks and parking lots downtown hadn't spread this far west yet, and she was glad for it. The vagrants and tweakers were dangerous, and the cold always gave them a reason to act up.

  Grandma’s Deli was in a seedy part of town, but the store itself was a part of Historic Downtown. The archaic distinction was the only thing keeping the old building from being demolished to make room for a new housing block. For some bizarre reason, the locals flocked to the bakery even through the politico wars. It wasn't like the age of the building made the sandwiches taste any better.

  Lillian rushed around the corner of the alley that led to the shop’s back door. The smell of freshly baked loafs bombarded her as she slid to a halt just in time to stop herself from running straight into her boss, who was smoking outside.

  “You're late, again,” spat the portly baker through the side of his mouth, a puff of acrid smoke blowing down the steps into Lillian's face. “I told you that you were on thin ice after you fucked up tossing the bread last week, and you fucked up again today. You were supposed to get the mayor’s party sub goin almost an hour ago. Kathy and Jim are workin’ double time trying to keep us caught up, and you couldn’t even bother to get here on time?”

  Oh no, not Kathy, who I filled in for yesterday, and Jim, your son who leaves an hour early every day.

  Lillian suppressed her anger as Tom pushed the blame for their glacial workflow onto her once again.

  “I-I'm really sorry Tom, the bus was late because of a crash on 171 and there was nothing I could do,” she stammered as she steeled herself for what she knew was coming next.

  “It’s always something with you!” The gruff man took a final drag before flicking the butt in her direction, the ashes catching on his bulging gut. “You just aren’t working out, kid. I’ve had more reliable middle schoolers work for me. You are probably the clumsiest girl I've ever had in the kitchen too. This was your last straw. Gimme that apron and go home.”

  “Please Tom, give me another chance. I won't let this happen again,” she begged. She needed to make this job work for at least another month. Tears welled in the corner of Lillian’s solitary eye as Tom beckoned for the apron with his meaty hand. The tears below the eyepatch would never escape the leather prison fixed to her face.

  Tom’s deadpan expression snuffed out what little hope she had left as she untied her apron with shaky hands. At the last second, she reached inside the side pocket and removed the small jewelry box she had been carrying. At least she was able to get the ring before she lost this job.

  The used car dealership in an adjacent lot sent a spike of shame through the girl as she slowly accepted that her plans had been delayed yet again. Lillian had finally started getting her life back on track when she’d landed the gig at the Deli. She had been planning on buying a car and bypassing the bus altogether. The creeping despair she was oh so familiar with began crawling its way back into her mind. No, not today. She bottled those emotions, trying to focus on the good instead. The car was secondary to proposing to Eric, the love of her life. Marriage was a relic of the old days, but in this sense, Lillian was old-fashioned.

  In a daze, Lillian started her long walk home. The sidewalks were always in a state of disrepair. The Politico Wars of the 30s had destroyed many metropolitan areas, and she was unlucky enough to live in the ruins of St. Louis. Unlike Neo York, where the subway and buses ran nonstop, the New Louis bus wouldn’t be back until midnight. Lillian wasn’t about to wait around Historic Downtown for a minute longer than necessary. Downtown had been a shithole even before the war.

  This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

  Losing the job hurt, but the ache was a familiar one. Partial blindness was an inconvenience, but it was also a lightning rod for blame. She had worked in almost every mom-and-pop establishment in the city at this point but was never able to stick with one for more than a few months. Her skills behind the skillet were always lauded and things would be going great until she inevitably dropped one too many plates. The boss would dress her down and she would be back on the job hunt the next day.

  AI had destroyed the better paying jobs, even a master's degree was worthless in this job market. The only reason she wasn’t homeless, like so many others in the city, was that her mother had made an agreement with her landlord before her death. As long as she was working, the trust set up in her name would pay for her housing.

  The only thing keeping her grounded was Eric, her boyfriend of three years. The man was a saint. Lillian couldn’t even recall the last time they had so much as an argument. Every day she thanked the stars that Eric stuck with her through it all. Lillian’s pale hand clenched the small box that held her hopes within.

  Walking back home took the better part of two hours. The entire hike down the pockmarked sidewalk was a blur as she envisioned her future with Eric. The kids she hoped to have, and the end of her work life danced in her imagination. Would they have his eyes? I hope they don't end up as dark as mine. Eric had the most mesmerizing hazel eyes that she had ever seen. In some lighting, they even looked golden. She could spend all day drawn into them as if they each held a ravenous vortex. The warmth that radiated from his gaze was in stark contrast to the dreary bleakness in her one gray eye.

  Only two years remained until she would receive her late mother’s complete inheritance. Why the woman had insisted on setting the age to 25 instead of 18 was just another question she would never get the chance to ask her.

  The familiar sight of the front door to her apartment was what finally broke her out of her stupor. Despite everything, she was thankful for the walk home. It had given her time to cool down and remember what was truly important to her. This would be one of the best days of her life despite Tom. She had rehearsed this proposal for months.

  With her heart beating loudly in her chest, she twisted the crappy brass handle, making sure to stop the door just before the rusty hinge would squeak. She slid through the narrow gap she had created and crept inside. Eric worked nights and was probably still sleeping.

  Thump…Thump…Thump

  The rhythmic pounding echoed through the thin apartment walls. Lillian blushed at the thought of her elderly neighbors going at it in their old age. Hearing the neighbors was an unfortunate part of living in an apartment. The Bottlebys must hear everything she and Eric did too. Embarrassed, she tip-toed her way around Eric’s clothes scattered in the hallway, quietly opening the bedroom door as time slowed to a halt.

  “Oh yea, just like that!” moaned Samantha, Eric’s co-worker, as her back arched. Her chestnut curls bounced with every thrust. The woman's chest pressed down onto the stuffed animals that had been a gift from Lillian's late mother. The visage of her boyfriend rhythmically pumping seared into her brain. Something within her broke as the man fucked away with more enthusiasm than he had shown her in years. The pair were too enthralled in the act to notice the door shut.

  Lillian stumbled over the shed clothes as she fled the apartment. Her mind whirled as the dreams of their future shattered. How long has this been going on? Memories of their life together flashed by as small incongruencies became glaring flaws. The beautiful veneer of her relationship with Eric faded and fractured. She thought farther back, and even her earliest memories with him were now different and tainted. It was as if a veil had been over her eyes for years.

  Her mother had tried to convince her that she deserved better, but she only had an eye for Eric. Those rosy tinted glasses she had viewed the world through were remarkably hazel.

  She idly thumbed through her contact list, looking for a friend to lean on, but the true reality of the situation she was in began to dawn on her.

  Ranni... no, she was Eric’s friend first. Lisa... FUCK. She was Eric’s friend first too.

  Lillian checked names from the list one after the other until she reached the bottom of her contacts. She didn’t have any friends of her own. Her entire life revolved around a man who wasn’t faithful.

  The realization brought on a moment of clarity. She could now see that they had argued quite often actually. Every time she brought up splitting rent, all it would take was one look into his eyes and she would completely forget about everything, and so many of the people he hung out with were women.

  Why was I never suspicious?

  The man had been leading her around by the nose and she had been blind to it. She hadn’t been able to see it until she caught him blasting the back out of his “platonic” coworker.

  I guess I don’t need to wonder why mom wrote in the delay for the inheritance anymore.

  The thought made Lillian burst into laughter. A sick, throaty wheeze escaped her as she reached to wipe away the tears, but her pale face was dry.

  Eric was the final piece that was anchoring her here, tethering her to this shithole. She hated this city. Hated how nothing could grow in this rotting concrete expanse that blanketed her view.

  A dangerous shot of adrenaline pumped into her chest as she stormed down the busy street. The sidewalk around her was bustling with activity, but she ignored the hubbub and marched towards the graveyard that held her mother’s remains. The calm quiet of the cemetery was her last refuge; Eric couldn’t take that from her too.

  Her phone notification dinged, but she ignored it. It doesn’t matter anyways. The device was insistent, ding after ding vibrated the phone in her pocket until she finally gave in and reached to turn it off. Her finger slipped, swiping open the top message and a brief glance at the text made her pause. Global News was on top, followed by a release from almost all the major news outlets. The President had been assassinated.

  The next several pings were shunted away as an emergency broadcast blared through her phone. She tried in vain to silence what was likely an amber alert. The homeless had spiked crime to an all-time high, and kidnappings were becoming a more regular occurrence. Instead of the usual testing and local crime reports, the alert read of something far more serious.

  USE OF NUCLEAR FORCE HAS BEEN AUTHORIZED IN RESPONSE TO THE ASSASSINATION OF THE PRESIDENT AT THE G18 MEETING. PLEASE HEAD TOWARDS THE NEAREST BUNKER AND AWAIT FURTHER INSTRUCTIONS.

  Lillian read the words several times, tuning out the annoying sound of the alert. Sirens were blaring, and floodlights beamed out towards the clouds. The bunkers were opening for the first time since the war.

  “The time has come!” cried a loud voice from within a tent on the sidewalk. The tent-city came to life as hundreds of homeless made their way into the streets. The self-righteous anger the vagrants held towards the world’s elite didn’t have a proper outlet, so they lashed out at what was closest to them. The panic on the streets escalated quickly. A mob was moving down the street, flipping over cars and lighting the storefronts on fire. The riots had been suppressed for the last five years, but the government’s hold on the masses was slipping.

  Her phone continued to scream with the piercing noise of the emergency alert as the text changed once more.

  NUCLEAR WAR HAS BEEN DECLARED BETWEEN THE EAST AND THE WEST. PAYLOADS ARE CURRENTLY EN ROUTE, HEAD TO THE NEAREST BUNKER IMMEDIATELY. MAY GOD HAVE MERCY ON OUR SOULS.

  Lillian found the tears she was expecting earlier, but she found them in humor instead of pain. They damn us all yet think any god would find mercy for them. What a terrible god that would be.

  The sky flashed in a blinding white as the bombs detonated and then darkness was all that remained.