Page 92 of Kiss Slay Replay

I hit refresh and nothing happens.

Again, and nothing. My Wi-Fi is down.

The lights flicker, then go off.

I dig my phone out from under my pillows and turn it on. No service. SOS.

It dawns on me that when I die this time, I’m dying alone.

I thought I was doing the right thing by taking myself out of the equation, by skipping the wedding, drastically changing the course of the day. Maybe it was my cowardice masquerading as strategy. Haven’t I learned by now? Not confronting a problem doesn’t make it go away. It’s so fucking annoying.

I squeeze Archie tighter to my chest. He grunts in protest.

“I’m sorry,” I tell him. “I’m so sorry.”

I set him down in the bathroom, toss him some treats, close the door, then cautiously reapproach the windows on the balls of my feet.

The dark sky has marbled a shade of noxious neon green. The fluffy clouds have expanded, or sunken. They’re closer now. They’ve swallowed the roof of the building across the street. They’re a weird texture. They look fuzzy, like forgotten fruit.

Do I get in my car? Drive up to the Lakeside to find my friends? Try something else to stop this from happening? Is it too late?

Wait.

What’s that noise? What is that? That whizzing. Like something traveling fast through the air. It’s not a bird. Or a bullet. It’s denser. Bigger.

A plane?

It’s getting louder. Closer. Louder. Closer. Louder. Closer. Louder.

Too close.

“Archie!” I run into the bathroom, peel the cat out of the corner, and hop into the tub, cover his body with mine. This fear glues my eyes shut, and I just hope I’m strong enough and solid enough that whatever happens next, Archie doesn’t feel it.

The crash is so thunderous it disrupts my sense of self, severs my thoughts from my body. The earth shakes, and my head hits the side of the tub. I can no longer orient myself in space. My eyes pop open to observe nebulous surroundings, my vision blurry. My ears ring.

Screams from the street. Car alarms.

My neck aches; it’s a struggle to hold up my head. I lean to the side to rest on the lip of the tub.

THUD.

THUD.

Are zombies at the door?

THUD.

THUD.

More screaming. So much screaming.

Archie scrambles free of my grasp and wedges himself behind the toilet.

“Archie. Archie…”

I manage to get one leg out of the tub, then one arm, then let gravity do the rest. I crawl across the bathroom floor. My head is a concrete block. Everything swirls out of focus. I must have bitten my tongue because my mouth tastes of blood. I reach up to the sink and pull myself to stand. The floor tilts beneath me as I stumble out into the living space. It’s like I’m on a carnival ride. I bump against the wall, shift my weight forward, then back, then forward, trying to stay upright in a world that’s gone askew.

The horrors of the loop intensify every time, become harder and harder to surmount, which makes me wonder where it could possibly go from here? What’s more intense than the end of the world? Than…