All Gone

Harry woke up drenched in sweat. Had it been a dream? He was panting and his mouth felt dry, like he had eaten paste. Putting a hand to his forehead and wiped the sweat up over his head and through his thinning graying hair. His drooping gray eyes darted around the room and landed on the alarm clock. 6:45 it read. In fifteen minutes, as his alarm would go off.

“It’s just a dream. That damn train will be by. Calm down for Crissakes!” he told himself.

Any other day Harry cursed the whistle of the train that ran only a block and a half away, but this morning, Harry needed to hear that whistle to still his pounding heart.

“It was just a dream. It was just a dream.” Harry repeated this to himself, desperate to believe it.

He was too afraid to turn on the television or radio and see if the news reports were the same as he remembered. Or had he dreamed them? Surely it couldn’t be possible?

“People don’t just vanish. Not like that.” This, he said out loud.

The remote was right there on the nightstand, within reach, but Harry wasn’t ready yet. He lay back down in bed and listened for the familiar sounds that greeted him every morning for the past twelve years. Oscar, the yappy mutt next door. The garbage truck that came, in Harry’s opinion, far too early in the morning on Wednesdays. It's low grumble of thundering pistons with brakes that whine (like a dog on a short leash) when depressed and other irritants were suddenly the key to Harry’s sanity.

What had he done to instigate this sudden attack on his mental state and sense of security? Harry tried to decipher his thoughts. What triggered such a dream? Had the events of the last few days been real? Or had he had a bad nightmare?

“Is it Wednesday or Thursday?” he asked himself.

Harry took another deep breath and settled back down in bed to wait for the telltale signs. He hoped desperately that it was Wednesday, and that it had all been a dream. But he was pretty sure he was wrong.
************************************************

Tuesday morning Harry tediously dragged himself out of bed to face his morning ritual of getting ready for work. A 15 minute shower, complete with a shave, followed by getting dressed then breakfast. Breakfast was coffee, a bowl of cereal, usually Raisin Bran, eaten while watching the morning news. The day’s weather was not promising. The 17-mile trip into town in the pouring rain was not motivating.

As he merged onto the interstate, he had to squeeze his way in between an SUV and a sedan.

“Why is it that the minute it starts to rain everyone on the road turns into a jerk?” Harry muttered to himself as he curled over the steering wheel of his 1987 Chevy Impala.

“Make a hole already. Christ!!”

The rain was pounding on the windshield and coming down so fast his wipers couldn’t keep up. A pickup truck dove in front of him, tossing even more water up onto his already doused windshield. Clearing it was a losing battle.

Harry hissed a few obscenities at the driver, knowing that they made no difference. He was in no mood to work this day and just wanted to get back home, out of the rain and pour himself a scotch, neat. Unfortunately he had to get through a day at work first.

Pulling into his favorite corner parking spot in the second row, he let out a big sigh.

“At least that’s over. Traffic’s gotten so bad a guy can hardly stand it,” he said to no one in particular.

Harry grabbed his briefcase and lunch bag from the front seat, prepared to open his umbrella the instant the car door was opened and readied to make the mad dash to the back door of his office building. He stepped out of the car, clutched the collar of his overcoat closed and ran for the door, the wind trying to rip his umbrella out of his hand.

The Office of Lost and Returned Mail paid Harry Reese a firm $1,335.32 every two weeks. Harry had been a loyal employee for 22 years now, earning a steady 4% raise every year. To most of his office mates, Harry was a bit of an enigma: fastidious in his ways and habits, expecting the utmost in courtesy from others. He was well-liked enough, but didn’t have many friends. He had no enemies either.

Trouble was, he didn’t quite live up to his own expectations. In his mind he was the nonpareil of common courtesy, but didn’t feel he received the same in return. He felt it his duty to the younger generation to point out how something you did was, or might be construed as, rude.

When Harry got to the employee entrance, he discovered that the door was still locked. All of the employees came in this way, how could Sean not unlock it on a day like today? These college summer-hires just didn’t think about anything that didn’t immediately concern them.
“Idiot,” Harry grumbled to himself. “All those piercings have let his brain drain out.” Now he had to dash around to the front door.

“Idiot better have left the front door unlocked.”

The front door was, indeed, unlocked and Harry made it inside just before the rain had soaked all the way to his bones. He propped his black umbrella up near the front door with those of his fellow employees and left it to dry.

“Good morning Harry,” said Mrs. Valos, the receptionist. “Good to see you made it in okay. Lots of folks are running late this morning. Nasty rain.” She nodded toward the front door.

“Good morning to you too Mrs. Valos. It was, as expected, a difficult drive in. It’s good to see you made it in safely too.” Mrs. Valos was one of the few co-workers Harry actually liked.
As he sauntered down the sterile white hallways, he returned a few polite hellos to some co-workers who had already arrived.

Harry nearly slipped on a wet step as he made his way down to his basement office. Cursing the unknown culprit who left the puddle, he gingerly made his way the rest of the way down the stairs. The musty smell in the stair well was particularly strong today. Harry wondered to himself why Sean was paid anything at all if he couldn’t at least keep the stairs dry. Then he reminded himself that Sean was the INS Director’s nephew.

Kids used to be grateful for the jobs they got,” he muttered. “Took ‘em seriously. Now everyone wants a free ride.”
Harry fumed to himself as he reached the bottom of the stairs and walked down the long stark white hall to his tiny office. After dropping off his coat, briefcase and lunch bag, he went to pour himself a cup of strong coffee.

“Aww. You have GOT to be kidding me!” Someone had taken the last cup and not started a new pot. The coffee station was out in the hallway so it was impossible to determine the culprit.

Harry was getting grumpier by the minute. He started a fresh pot and waited for it to finish, just sure that if he didn’t he somehow wouldn’t get a cup.

“How’s it going? Making a fresh pot? Thanks!” Phillip had the office next to Harry’s.

“Someone took the last cup and didn’t start a new pot. Can you believe it? On a day like today no less,” replied Harry.

“Yeah, it’s definitely a two cup morning. That rain sops right down to the bone.”

Harry alluded to the coffee nuisance to everyone else who came in to get a cup, looking for an ally, expecting everyone else to be just as incensed. A few agreed that leaving an empty pot was rude, but no one jumped on his bandwagon, or seemed to share his sense of inconvenience. When the pot was finished, he poured himself a large cup, black, and headed back to his office. He considered pouring a second cup to have in case this pot was drained, but decided to let it go.

Rudeness and a lack of common sense were things Harry could not abide. His parents had taught him well. Some might say too well. Forget to say “please” or “thank you” and get smacked in the jaw. Forget to hold the door for a lady and get spanked on the behind. Yes, his parents taught him to be a gentleman. To look out for others and be someone who earned respect and courtesy in return. You get what you give. Or at least things were supposed to work that way.

Harry believed he didn't get that same kind of treatment in return. He often found himself wanting to smack anyone who said nasty things to him, and wring the necks of those little clowns who didn’t put things back in their proper place in the store, or who parked across two parking spaces.

Harry spent the rest of his day grumpy. It seemed to him as though people were going out of their way to irritate him. Little things vexed him all day.

“Donna, you put your lunch box on my sandwich. Do you think you could pay more attention next time? My sandwich is completely smashed.” Harry did not hide his irritation when he showed Donna his mashed baloney on white. She apologized but kept right on eating her own lunch.

Someone else borrowed his scissors and didn’t bring them back all day. And Charlie really didn’t need to yell into his phone. It was the little things that bothered him the most. Those thoughtless actions by the unseen, faceless, nameless ones who gave no thought to who they were affecting with their actions.

Harry was relieved when 5 o’clock rolled around. It was time to head home and he wasted no time gathering his things. He put on his raincoat, and walked back down the stark white hallway, back up the musty staircase, through the next hallway, back through the lobby to grab his umbrella. It was gone.

Furious, he hung his head and closed his eyes. A few deep breaths did little to soothe his nerves.

Racing through the rain to his car, Harry began cursing again. He could feel his heart pounding with anger as he unlocked his car and climbed inside. Revving the engine then thrusting the gearshift into reverse, Harry whipped out of his parking space and raced out of the parking lot.

“Can’t believe some people,” said Harry to himself, “Don’t give yourself a damn heart attack.”

Harry remembered he needed a few things from the grocery store and decided to stop on his way home, he was soaking wet anyway. He grabbed the last basket near the Piggly Wiggly entrance and frowned at the dirty wet flyers someone had left in the bottom.

“All these high school kids just standing around and not one of them can clean these things out before they put them away.”

Harry sighed in as he pulled the soggy paper out and dropped it into a trash can behind one of the registers.

The store was packed with after-work shoppers. There were mothers with their carts full of junk food and screaming children. A young couple paid him no attention as he squeezed by them in the pasta section. His irritation kept growing with every passing aisle. He was nearly hit twice by people in too much of a hurry to watch where they were going. Once he had gathered his bar of soap, loaf of plain white bread, a can of Barbasol, and a fresh package of baloney he made his way towards the checkout aisle.

His irritation peaked while he was standing in the express aisle waiting his turn behind a woman with more than ten items in her cart. She was talking on her cell phone.

“Shelly doesn’t know where he is. She says he didn’t come home last night and if he doesn’t call her by tonight he’s out for good,” she was saying.

Harry turned to the man in line behind him and asked loudly “Isn’t this the express lane? Ten items or less?”

The man nodded in agreement but said nothing. Harry tried to let his irritation show, but she refused to notice and didn’t even offer to let him go in front of her.

Harry just wanted to get home and desperately wanted a drink. He maneuvered himself onto the highway and merged into the left lane, blinker flashing. A black Porsche suddenly came racing up on Harry’s tail, floating just inches off his back bumper. Harry glared at the driver in the rear view mirror. The Porsche flashed his brights four times and continued to hover on Harry’s tail. Harry grew angrier by the second.

“Are you kidding me!?” Harry screamed. “Where do you think I’m going to go? Underneath this semi-truck!?”

The Porsche saw an opening in the right lane and dove into it, nearly missing a white Ford. The Porsche glided right back in front of Harry, nearly clipping his front right corner. Harry could feel himself get hot and sweaty with anger. He laid into his horn and the Porsche driver flipped Harry off. The car dove again into the right lane, Harry heard a screech and watched a blue car fishtail as it slammed on its breaks to avoid a crash.

Harry was over the edge and snapped.

“I wish all you IDIOTS, you arrogant bastards would just disappear! The world would be a much better place without you! GO TO HELL!”

The loud crash of thunder startled Harry and just fueled his anger. Harry’s heart was racing and he could feel his face flushing with anger. He caught himself shaking and gripping his steering wheel so hard his knuckles were white. He really wanted a drink. Now.

He could no longer see the Porsche up ahead. He didn’t know if it was trapped up ahead in traffic or if it had dodged on ahead in the rain. In either case, it was gone.

Harry pulled into his garage. The anger hadn’t subsided and he was longing for that scotch. Harry only paused long enough on his way into the house to hang his soggy raincoat on the hook by the garage door to dry. He didn’t want a puddle in his house.

There was a 40-year-old bottle of Scotch in the basement he had been saving for some special occasion. Knowing this occasion wasn’t so special he went for it anyway.

This was a bottle his grandfather had saved from the days when he worked at the Immigration Department in New York searching all the foreign hopefuls wanting to come to America. Bringing alcohol into the country was illegal, so his grandfather was responsible for confiscating it.

Many of these bottles made their way to his basement, then eventually, to Harry’s basement. Scotch connoisseurs would salivate if they saw Harry’s collection.

As the first sip of the smooth drink passed his lips and on down his throat, Harry closed his eyes and inhaled deeply through his nose. He sat back on his overstuffed plaid couch and sighed.

“That’s better.” he thought. “A little scotch’ll cure just about anything.”

He took another long sip, letting the drink relax him. It was an effort, but he was slowly putting the aggravations of the day behind him. Each sip slowed his heart just a bit more.

Three glasses later, Harry knew he was drunk. That was about all he knew. The television was on, but he had lost the ability to concentrate on what he was watching. The blurs were somewhat soothing.

When the evening news came on at eleven, Harry was working on the last of his fourth drink. Tthe two anchors on the screen recited the same old stories of death, crime and his deteriorating society. Their bright white teeth and perfect hair suddenly grated on Harry’s nerves.

“All you pretty people do is read. Don’t even write your own stuff.” The television did not respond to his comments.

“Doom and gloom. That all you got?”

It wasn’t fair.

Harry had spent most of his adult life mundanely pushing paper to make an honest living. He hated TV people.

The next story was about a missing person last seen driving on the interstate. The story unfolded to reveal that the guy had been driving his new black Porsche and was racing home to his pregnant wife to take her to the hospital. He never made it home. Strange though, his car was found smashed into the cement guard on the Weldon Bridge, overlooking the river. No body inside. He had been talking to his wife on his cell phone when he was getting onto the outer belt. The wife said he just stopped talking.

Something about this story rang in Harry’s head. Could this have been the same guy who gave Harry such a hard time on the highway? They were traveling on the same stretch of road at about the same time. Harry wondered for just a moment more, figured “what’s one less bad driver out there anyway” and went to bed. His head was starting to hurt.

****************************

Brain surgery without the aid of anesthesia would have hurt less than Harry’s hangover. When the alarm went off, Harry smashed it with his hand to shut it off. He rolled over to catch a few more moments of sleep, figured he’d better be sure he would wake back up and switched on the little television in his room.

The morning news was on and two new pretty faces were reporting about an unusual number of missing persons reported the night before. The pretty brunette caught Harry’s attention.

“A record 27 people were reported missing last night between the hours of 7pm and midnight, sources say. All were adults and there appears to be no connection between the victims. Authorities are scrambling to keep up with the reports as the pour in. They have no explanation for this sudden rash of disappearances.”

The reporter moved on to a new story, something about the new recycling plant that was invading an old established neighborhood. Harry lost interest in the news and needed some aspirin to kill the pain in his head. He briefly toyed with the idea of calling in sick, but Harry hadn’t done that in years.

He slowly and carefully got ready for work, being careful not to make any sudden movements that would make his head hurt more. His drive into the office was only slightly less painful than his head. There were the usual road jockeys who would weave in and out of traffic, cutting dangerously close to Harry and other drivers. One car in particular, a blue Honda Civic, slid over three lanes of traffic and pulled just in front of Harry and never once put on his blinker.

“Funny,” thought Harry sarcastically, “I thought those cars came with blinkers.”

Harry chuckled to himself at his own joke. The car seemed to disappear into the horizon as it tore off in front of him.

Harry spent the day at work hiding in his office, trying not to be social., nursing his hangover. He didn’t notice the changes. When he went for coffee, there was actually half a pot left. The only thing Harry did notice was that the office seemed quieter. This, he appreciated. He only barely noticed that two of his co-workers were missing that day. His scissors didn't disappear, and his lunch remained unscathed in the refrigerator. Harry was grateful for a quiet day for he was tired.

Everyone assumed the two missing co-workers were simply sick. No one knew anything and no one seemed to have heard from them.

“Harry, have you seen Donna today?” asked Mrs. Valos.

“No, can’t say that I have. It’s been unusually quite here today. Did I miss a holiday or something?” replied Harry.

“No, just several people out sick. But none of them, except for Maggie, actually called in. She has a sick child at home.”

Driving home that night, Harry was exhausted. His hangover had left him tired, but that didn’t stop him from wanting another scotch when he got home. He would stick to his usual one drink and not binge as he had the night before. He was low on aspirin anyway.

Upon arriving home, Harry put a Salisbury Steak TV dinner in the oven, poured himself his drink and sat down to watch the early news.

“Good evening, I’m Shannon Shay, filling in for Debar Ryder who has the night off. This is Channel 5 News.” said the new voice.

There was a new woman filling in for the grating anchor from the night before. Harry was indifferent. The news didn’t look interesting so he got up to change the channels. He stopped on Channel 7 when he noticed a photo of the Channel 5 anchor who “had the night off.” The reporter was saying that she was missing. Harry felt a passing sense of pity for the woman, but was mostly glad to have a night off from the aggravating voice. If Channel 5’s news wasn’t the best he wouldn’t even bother watching it.

After eating his dinner off an old-fashioned TV tray, Harry dozed off in his chair and woke up when the 11 o’clock news came on. Again there were reports of even more astounding numbers of missing persons reports. This time Harry paid attention.

“What the heck?...” his voice trailed off.

There was a sound bite from a sobbing woman named Shelley Welsh who was crying over her lost boyfriend who hadn’t been seen in over a day. He worked at the pharmacy where Harry got his blood pressure pills. He wondered if this was the slowpoke that hardly gave Harry the time of day.

Harry thought it odd that so many people were disappearing, but also figured we could stand to have a few less people in the world.

“Maybe if everyone had a little space...” Harry drifted off back into a deep sleep.

****************************************

At 7 A.M., just when his alarm would have gone off, the whistle of the large Conrad train went off, waking Harry with a start.

“Why so early? Every stinking morning,”

Harry mumbled as he slowly rose from his chair. The television was still on and once again he watched still more reports of more missing people.

Harry stopped and listened to the news report. It was unsettling, but he didn’t know why it was bothering him. They were showing photos of some of the missing people and asking anyone with any information to call the station.

Among a series of unrecognizable photos, he saw the face of the woman who was in front of him at Piggly Wiggly the other night. And then, Sean, the custodian at his office. It was unnerving to Harry that he had actually seen some of these people in their last days. Harry switched off the television and got ready for work.

**********************************************

News of the epidemic of missing persons was the talk of the office when Harry arrived. He learned that in addition to Sean coming up missing, several other co-workers were missing also. Harry thought it was too bad that so many were turning up missing. “But at least if anyone has to go missing, let it be the ones we won’t miss so much” he thought.

The atmosphere at work felt like a funeral. Everyone had trouble concentrating due to their preoccupation with their missing loved ones. Everyone in Harry’s office knew several of the people reported missing, whether they were friends, family, or acquaintances from around town. One guy in Harry’s office seemed more upset that Howard Stern wasn’t on the air than the fact that his own mother-in-law hadn’t been seen for two days. Howard was apparently one of the first people reported missing.

Harry pulled his lunch out of the refrigerator, went into his office and shut the door. He slowly pulled his baloney sandwich out of the bag and began to eat. He couldn’t stop thinking about how odd it was that so many people were suddenly turning up missing. The guy in the Porsche, the woman at the grocery store, Sean the careless custodian. Granted, these people were not exactly models of polite decorum.

Thinking back to the wish he made in his car the other night, Harry chuckled.

“Maybe my wish is coming true. Wouldn’t that be nice?” Harry thought.

Considering this idea a little more he began to get a little sick to his stomach. They guy in the Porsche, the woman at the grocery store, the man at the pharmacy, Sean and Donna from work. These were all people he either knew or interacted with in some way. Harry put his sandwich down and pushed it away. He had to think about this.

“What the hell is going on?” he wondered.

There were seven missing from his office alone and each of them was constantly on Harry’s last nerve. He couldn’t count how many times he wished they would either quit or get fired. Anything to get them out of his life.

“It isn’t really possible, is it? To wish people away and they disappear?”

Harry tried to shake off the feeling that he was responsible but a trace bit of guilt remained. He got up to go walk around the office and get his mind of this feeling of uneasiness.

No one smiled or joked around. He paid considerable attention to everyone around them and thought it interesting how, in the face of tragedy, people suddenly became more caring. Everyone was devoting an extra amount of attention to their work and trying to get through the day. Harry found himself doing the same for the rest of the afternoon.

Around 4:30 in the afternoon, Harry headed off for the restroom. Since Harry’s division was small, there was only one unisex bathroom just down the hall. It served about eight people. When he was about 4-feet away from the door, Stu Harris, from Certificates and Documentation, dodged around him, brushing his shoulder and dashed into the bathroom muttering a half-hearted “s’cuse me.”
Harry was infuriated. He would say something to Stu when he came out. The longer Stu took, the angrier Harry got. After about five minutes Harry knocked on the door.

“Stu?” Harry called. He received no reply.
Harry knocked harder and called again.

“You okay in there?” He asked.

Not that he really cared, but he had to go and had a few things to say to Stu.
After more pounding and shouting for Stu, a few co-workers came out into the hall and asked what was going on.

“Stu pushed me aside to run into the bathroom when he knew I was on my way there and in front of him, now he won’t come out. He’s been in there over five minutes!”

Harry was about at the end of his rope. A few others tried knocking on the door and became concerned when no one answered.

Someone found something to pick the lock on the door. When they finally opened the door, Stu had been in there for ten minutes. Someone had called for an ambulance. The door swung open to reveal the light on and totally empty bathroom.

Someone shrieked.

************************************************

Harry was completely unnerved and shaking by the time he got home that evening. He rushed to the television to see the news. Now there were two young rookie anchors trying to deliver the news of still more missing people. The city was beginning to panic. People were scared. There appeared to be no explanation for so many people disappearing. They were only adults, no children, and there seemed to be no connection between the victims except that most of them came from his home city.

There were plenty of famous names that had disappeared but Harry didn’t mind that. Good riddance he thought. Celebrities were usually too big for their britches. The reporter read off more names that Harry recognized. He even recognized a few of the faces he saw in the photos on TV. He knew he wouldn’t miss any of them. They had all given him cause for grief at one time or another.

Harry felt a little bad for all the people who were upset over missing loved. Pouring himself another drink, he settled in to watch the round-the-clock coverage of all the help centers set up around the city to take calls regarding the missing people.

As he finished each glass of scotch Harry grew more proud of his wish. “Here’s to the elimination of insensitivity!” He toasted himself and wanted to wish that he could share his success with someone, then laughed as he remembered the power of his wishes. The world was thinning out! How long before he could walk the streets and be happy to see other people, waving and smiling.
The drunker Harry got the more he yelled at the television.

“Good riddance to ya!” he’d slur.

The news reports continued to show scenes of people sobbing over loved ones. The reporter concluded his section by saying,

“No one knows what is spurning this rash of disappearances and no one knows how far it will go. Will the population be wiped out in days? Weeks? Or will this strange phenomenon come to a grinding halt when the forces that drive it are satisfied?”

These last statements rang in Harry’s ears. It was something he hadn’t considered. If people kept disappearing who would be left to check out his groceries, fill his prescriptions, wait on him at his favorite restaurant, dry clean his clothes? Would he have to start growing his own food? What would happen if he woke up one morning and everyone was all gone?

“Will I disappear too?”

Harry got scared. He wondered how far things had gone. Looking out the window he couldn't see the usual cars passing by, people out walking their dogs, or jogging. He saw no one. There were a few lights on in apartments across the street. The outside air smelled unusually fresh, and a little bit like scotch. He couldn’t find the scent of the big city bus that came puffing down his street four times a day polluting the air with its exhaust. A state of drunken panic took over his senses and he started to sweat and pant. He stumbled back to his coffee table and re-filled his glass.

He paced around his tiny living room in a heated panic. The news reports kept coming and Harry sensed a growing state of fear in the voices of the reporters. Hundreds were missing and the names kept rolling in. Most of the city officials had been missing since mid-afternoon, so what was left of the police department was standing watch over the remaining “important” figures.

With the disappearance of Howard Stern, some professional wrestlers, the creators of South Park, Bobby Knight and a few other high-profile people, major celebrities were beefing up their personal security out of fear for their lives.
When he just couldn’t take it anymore Harry ran to the television set, switched it off and threw himself on his bed so he could think.

“Maybe if I just pass out this will all go away,” he slurred to himself, “this can’t really be happening.”

Harry put his hands over his head and groaned “this can’t be happening, no, it can’t be happening” over and over. Harry passed out.

************************************************

As Harry lay in bed waiting for his clock to turn to 7 a.m. he listened intently for any sounds of life outside his small bedroom window. The events of his dream (he hoped) were burning in his mind. Oscar's barking would be a welcome sound this morning. He wasn’t sure what day it was but he hoped it was Tuesday and longed for the musical grinding of the garbage truck that served his neighborhood. Harry wasn’t sure if he dared go turn on the television.

Everything had felt so real. Did he just get drunk and dream the whole thing? He tried to calm himself with deep breathing. He had passed out in his work clothes but couldn’t remember what shirt he had worn on what day. His mind was racing trying to straighten out his memories.

The silence slid through his head like an arrow.

“Please Oscar, just one yap.”


Still no Oscar, still no garbage truck. The alarm sounded precisely at 7 a.m. and Harry reached over to the tiny clock and shut the siren off. He lay back down on his bed and stared at the ceiling.

“Get up you fool. It was just a dream. Get up and clean yourself up. You outta be ashamed of yourself.”

Harry’s thoughts turned to punishment for his drunken binge. Twice in one week.

“You don’t do that twice in one year. What’s the matter with you?” He asked himself.

He slowly sat up and ran his hands over his head and sighed. Intending to splash cold water on his face, he headed for the bathroom and stopped short when he saw himself in the mirror. His thinning hair was thinner and the gray was even more prominent. He looked haggard and about ten years older. Ten years his wrinkles could not spare.

Harry choked back a sob and proceeded to rinse his face and brush his teeth, cleaning himself up and still trying to calm his nerves. There were still no indications of any dogs, trucks, or train whistles. He stood in front of the television a full five minutes before finally reaching over to push the power button. With his face just inches from the screen, he checked to see that the knob was turned to channel 5, pressed the button and heard the power click on. The picture was nothing but static.

Frantically turning the knob all the way around trying every channel on his ancient television, Harry searched not only for a news update, but any sign of life. Nothing. Only snow on every channel. Harry ran to the window, threw it open, thrust out his head, and saw nothing but a few papers blowing down the empty street. No train. No Oscar. No one.

Harry screamed.