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  ‘The sky’s getting lighter out those windows,’ I said, ‘He’s an idiot, but he might notice that.’

  ‘Okay then,’ she said, ‘Get dressed now, Morons: I’m calling the police in ten seconds.’

  ‘Thirty-nine minutes!’

  ‘Very well!’ Worf bellowed, ‘But I shall require a commentcard!’

  ‘Ahem. “Dear Holding Company”,’ I mocked, ‘“Having eaten nary a morsel in a fortnight, it was my occasion to partake of the juice of coffeeberries and the milk of cattle within your worthy establishment; I must query nonetheless: wherefore doth thy serving wench getteth off imposing upon us mandates whereupon we shalt not shed our suits of clothes and shalt fondle not our swords....” I don’t see this getting the reaction you idiots are after, somehow.’

  ‘Calling them now,’ Jessica said, heading for the register up front, ‘Oh shit.’

  Larry the manager walked into the dining area for a second, saw the wiccans dancing naked in the former smoking section, turned, and simply walked away again.

  ‘Thirty-eight minutes!’

  ‘That went well,’ I said.

  ‘He’ll come back in a minute to see if he’s still hallucinating,’ Leslie said.

  ‘Probably,’ I said.

  ‘I’m awake!’ Chuck promised, ‘Wha’d I miss.’

  ‘Not a lot,’ I said, ‘Dancing morons and the manager didn’t see you sleeping.’

  ‘The manager?’

  ‘He saw them dancing, and left again.’

  ‘Wish I’d seen that.’

  ‘Thankalord!’

  ‘Nine!’ Jessica called out from the phone, ‘One! Wanna guess the next number? No? One!’

  ‘She calls the constabularies!’ Worf bellowed, ‘We must flee!’ And he sprinted out to the lobby, through the door, and to his Subaru, leaving the three naked chicks behind.

  Jessica returned. ‘They’re on their way. Get dressed and get out.’

  BB blinked vacuously at her. ‘Should we pay for—’

  ‘Out.’

  Worf wandered back in. ‘Guys?’

  ‘They’re coming,’ Jessica said, ‘Go wait for them outside.’

  Worf shrugged. ‘Then I shall take my leave of you and your fine—’

  ‘We have guns!’ Jessica screamed, ‘Leave!’

  ‘Very well! I bid thee—’

  ‘Would you get the fuck out—all of you...fuck!’ Jessica dropped angrily into the seat next to me.

  ‘This is that mood you’re in when you get naked,’ I said, ‘Innit.’

  ‘Thirty-seven minutes!’

  ‘Don’t start,’ she said, ‘At least: not right now.’

  ‘They won’t survive,’ George said, “Boom! Boom! Boom!’

  ‘Maybe I really should quit,’ Jessica said.

  ‘And miss all this?’ I asked.

  ‘Would you miss all this?’ she asked.

  ‘Not for—well,’ I said, ‘not for eleven thousand, nine hundred dollars.’

  ‘I thought you didn’t want all the interruptions,’ Leslie said.

  ‘That was then,’ I said, ‘Now? I am so writing this all down.’

  ‘Good luck with that,’ HippyGuy said, ‘When the cops get here, I’m gonna tell’em you’ve got that jewish gun.’

  ‘I didn’t really call them,’ Jessica told me.

  ‘Didn’t think so,’ I said.

  ‘How is the gun jewish,’ Chuck asked.

  ‘Firing pin’s been circumcised,’ I said.

  ‘Ah.’

  Having found all their clothes, instead of bothering to put them on, the wiccans walked to the lobby and out the door into the early morning, the sound of birds beginning to sing out there.

  ‘Thirty-six minutes!’

  ‘It’s the waiting that kills me,’ Chuck said.

  ‘If it’s the end of the world,’ I said, ‘It’ll be thirty-six minutes from now that’ll kill you.’

  ‘That’s true,’ he said.

  ‘Hey, George,’ Jessica said, getting up and going over to 75.

  ‘You see me!’

  ‘Yeah,’ she said, ‘Listen: what happens in thirty-six minutes. What happens at dawn.’

  ‘They’re coming!’

  ‘Who’s coming.’

  ‘The....’ And George began slowly to cry.

  ‘That could be a bad thing,’ I said.

  ‘Or he’s really, really happy about it,’ Leslie said.

  ‘That could be a bad thing too,’ I said.

  George cried for a bit, saying nothing; then: ‘Thirty-five minutes!’ and he was okay again.

  ‘Who’s coming,’ Jessica asked again.

  ‘They’re coming.’

  ‘Who are “they”,’ she asked.

  ‘The...the lizardpeople. They’re coming. From Altair Four.’

  ‘Like “Forbidden Planet”? she asked.

  ‘This is the forbidden planet,’ he said.

  ‘This is Altair Four,’ she said.

  ‘This is Earth. And it’s a forbidden zone. No one will survive.’

  ‘Survive what,’ she asked.

  ‘The attack,’ he said, ‘They’re going to attack. They’re going to attack in thirty-four minutes and twenty seconds.’

  ‘What makes you think that,’ she asked.

  ‘They tell me,’ he said, ‘Over and over. They tell me. That’s why they’re letting me live. I tell you, and I get to live. Because I know the secrets. And I know what they tell me.’

  ‘What do they tell—’

  ‘Thirty-four minutes!’

  ‘What do they tell you, George.’

  ‘That, in thirty-three minutes and fifty-two seconds, they’re going to attack.’

  ‘Why.’

  ‘Because we’re here now.’

  ‘Here on Earth,’ Jessica asked, ‘or here in the restaurant.’

  ‘We’re all here together,’ George said.

  ‘We’re all here in the restaurant?’ she asked, ‘Just us...eight people? Ten. The manager and the cook. So, we ten? Together?’

  ‘Because I’m here,’ he said, ‘And because their leader has joined us.’

  ‘Their leader?’ Jessica asked, ‘They sent their leader here from Altair Four?’

  ‘Their leader was always here,’ George said, ‘Watching and waiting, preparing for the attack.’

  ‘Where’s their leader,’ she asked.

  ‘Thirty-three minutes!’

  ‘George? Where’s their leader.’

  ‘Among us,’ he said, ‘Watching and waiting.’

  ‘Can you see it now?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes. All the time. At night, during the day, at the mall, all the time.’

  ‘Okay, George,’ Jessica said, ‘It’ll be okay. Why don’t I find you something to eat; maybe you’ll feel better with some food.’

  ‘Thankalord.’

  ‘Right, George. Just a couple minutes, and I’ll have food for you.’

  ‘I should eat before I leave.’

  ‘You will,’ she said, ‘In just a couple of minutes.’

  ‘Thirty-two minutes!’

  ‘No just a couple—oh. You want food before that though, right?’

  ‘Okay,’ George said.

  Jessica got up and approached, heading ultimately for the kitchen. To me, she said quietly, ‘He’s just crazy. He sees invaders everywhere. Sad.’ And she went back to get him some food.

  For a couple minutes, while Jessica was getting his food ready, we just sat there, listening to George mumble. Most of the time, he didn’t really say anything. Once a minute, though....

  ‘Thirty-one minutes!’ 5.37AM

  ‘Thirty minutes!’ 5.38AM

  ‘Twenty-nine minutes!’ 5.39AM

  Then I went out for one more cigarette before the end of the world.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  ‘Twenty-eight minutes!’ I heard George call as I stepped out onto the sidewalk beneath the brightening purple sky. The birds were chirping loudly now; the odd squirrel dan
ced from tree to tree; more cars were driving by on the road to the south, though it was only 5.40AM on a Saturday. I lit a cigarette and watched them all: the morons driving about, going nowhere, unaware that, if George wasn’t completely crazy, something was going to happen, probably right here at this restaurant, beginning in twenty-seven and a half minutes.

  I was watching my Columbia CL5055 now, keeping track at least approximately of George’s countdown within.

  My watch being about two seconds behind the atomic clock, we had twenty-seven minutes and eight seconds to go.

  I pulled the door open and listened for George, keeping an eye on my watch.

  ‘Twenty-seven minutes!’

  Two seconds slow.

  Not that I ever really expected George to be right about the end of the world—not, in fact, that he’d ever really said the world was going to end. And, as you’re alive and able to read this, you see what I mean about the world not actually ending. But you’ve got that cool hindsight thing, I suppose. For us, in those last twenty-seven minutes before the sun came through the eastern windows...I didn’t think the world was going to end, but I’ll admit that I wasn’t really sure what to think.

  But, for the stupid among you: no; the world didn’t end at dawn last August. Also for the stupid among you: stay away from me. I mean it.

  ‘Twenty minutes!’

  And I looked at my watch:

  ‘I just realised something,’ Jessica said, ‘I’m off at six, if not actually out of here at six. Whatever happens in twenty minutes, I’m probably gonna miss it.’

  ‘Maybe, if something happens, I can film it for you,’ I said.

  ‘Maybe, if you film it,’ she said, ‘your camera will be all that survives.’

  ‘I’ve got a gun,’ I told her.

  ‘If George’s leader showed up,’ she said, ‘a gun might not be enough.’

  ‘It’s a really good gun,’ I said.

  ‘Twenty minutes,’ she said, ‘Damn. That’s not even long enough to....’ She looked at me. ‘At least, I hope it’s not long enough to—’

  ‘Nineteen minutes!’

  ‘Depends,’ I said, ‘You still naked under your clothes?’

  She laughed. ‘Pretty much always, actually.’

  ‘That’s it,’ Leslie said, ‘Nineteen more minutes of this, and the world is gonna end.’

  ‘Did he say it would end?’ Chuck asked, ‘What the hell is supposed to happen in nineteen minutes.’

  ‘This leader thing shows up,’ I said.

  ‘The leader’s here already,’ Jessica said, ‘Others show up to join it, I guess.’

  ‘Oh right,’ I said, ‘Two of them show up at dawn. Or, just after. Eight after six. And probably zero seconds.’

  ‘So, should we get ready to go?’ asked Leslie, ‘Like, in case whatever happens is something we wanna be ready to run away from?’

  ‘Nothing’s gonna happen,’ I said, looking at my watch, ‘C’mon. The guy’s nuts. He’s fixated on a certain time on a certain day. He’s able to keep track of numbers to the second, and he’s just counting down to...probably to reset when he gets there. Or his head’ll explode or something.’

  ‘What if it’s more than that,’ Leslie said.

  ‘Then I’m wrong. You wanna go? Okay. I’m gonna stay here and see if his head explodes.’ I glanced at my watch.

  ‘Eighteen minutes!’

  ‘If his leader’s here,’ Jessica said, ‘I’ll bet it’s Larry. The Manager. That would explain so much.’

  ‘There are stupid aliens?’ I asked.

  ‘Probably. Those are probably the ones they send to Earth. “Go abduct people! Why’d you abduct people from trailerparks!” Or something.’

  ‘Or,’ I said, ‘it’s you, sent ahead to see what we people eat.’

  ‘Oh yeah,’ she said, ‘Forgot about that.’

  ‘This is stupid,’ Leslie said, ‘Is anyone in here not an alien?’

  ‘I’m only part alien,’ HippyGuy said, ‘On my mother’s side.’

  ‘You asked,’ I told her.

  ‘Wait,’ Leslie said, turning to see HippyGuy, ‘Are you joking.’

  ‘Nope,’ he said, ‘My grandmother reproduced with an alien.’

  ‘Okay, good,’ Leslie said, ‘I didn’t want to think you were that smart.’

  ‘Enjoy your sleep,’ HippyGuy said.

  ‘You think there’s a bumpersticker somewhere saying “Enjoy Your Sleep”?’ I asked, ‘It can’t be a coincidence that these idiots all fall back on it when they’ve run out of makebelieve.’

  ‘Seventeen minutes!’

  ‘Tick tock,’ I said.

  ‘Seventeen minutes to kill,’ Leslie said.

  ‘That’s not really that long,’ Chuck said.

  ‘You’ll probably sleep through it,’ she said.

  ‘Well, yeah; probably.’

  ‘Hey, George!’ Jessica called.

  ‘You see me!’

  ‘Yeah. Is the food okay?’

  ‘Fine. Thankalord.’

  ‘You’re welcome,’ she said, telling me, ‘I got him an omelette. That’s all protein and stuff, right?’

  ‘Pretty much. And carbohydrates.’

  ‘Oh.’ She frowned.

  ‘That’s a good thing,’ I said, ‘Atkins is an idiot.’

  ‘This is taking too long,’ Leslie said, ‘I don’t wanna sit here for the next seventeen minutes, doing nothing.’

  ‘That’s just because you’re the alien,’ I told her.

  ‘Yeah,’ she said, ‘That’s probably it.’

  ‘This is weird though,’ I said, ‘We’ve got these two idiots, and Hutch of course, and then George. It’s almost six on a Saturday. Don’t people usually come in here about now?’

  ‘Usually,’ Jessica said, ‘Including the day crew. Can you get the news on that thing?’

  ‘Yeah.’ I hit cnn.com, waiting for it to load on what Verizon Wireless called broadband. ‘Senate hearings and shit,’ I said, ‘Nothing interesting.’

  ‘Oh wait,’ Jessica said, ‘There’s someone.’ She got up to see the car pulling into the lot, then stopped. ‘Marge,’ she said, ‘Day crew.’

  ‘Sixteen minutes!’

  I looked at my watch:

  Marge got inside. ‘I know: I’m almost late; sorry.’

  ‘It’s slow now,’ Jessica said.

  ‘Trying to get used to it out there,’ Marge said, ‘I’m used to getting here after the sun’s up. Summer’s ending again.’ Wandering into our section, she announced, ‘Hi, All. I’ll be clocked in once...oh. It’s only five fifty-two,’ she said, looking at the big digital clock on the wall to the west of my seat, ‘I guess I’ll clock in after a few minutes.’ To Jessica: ‘That Larry gets so angry if I punch in a few minutes early; says I’m running them out of money here.’

  ‘Larry’s an idiot,’ Jessica said, ‘Which reminds me: George’s meal over there is covered.’

  ‘Is it?’ Marge asked.

  ‘I comped it,’ Jessica said, ‘I thought he needed the food.’

  ‘Well, he probably does,’ Marge said, ‘Poor man. Does he even have a home?’

  ‘Dunno,’ Jessica said, ‘Not that I know of. He comes in and I give him coffee. Soup sometimes if we’re about to throw it out anyway.’

  ‘That’s so sad,’ Marge said, then looked at me. ‘Isn’t that sad?’

  ‘Deplorable,’ I said.

  ‘Fifteen minutes!’

  ‘Oh my,’ Marge exclaimed, looking to George, ‘Fifteen minutes? Until what, I wonder.’ Marge had that impossible accent somewhere between rural Texas and Oxford, England, old people wind up with as magically as black people wind up with southern Chicago, allowing her to insert a good three syllables into what when it was part of something resembling a question.

  ‘He’s been doing that all night,’ Jessica said, ‘Counting down to, well, fifteen minutes from now, I guess.’

  ‘Whatever for, I wonder.’

  ‘He’s...not entirely sane,
’ Jessica said.

  ‘How sad,’ Marge said, ‘Isn’t it? Sad, I mean.’

  Old people always like to tell you what they mean, even when it’s the only word they ever say. Like we’d hear sad and isn’t it and assume there was some other adjective out there to discuss.

  ‘Fourteen minutes!’

  ‘Why, there: he did it again,’ she said. Since old people also like to tell you what you and they just witnessed. Pray to hell you never see an old person near a VCR or DVR or anything else rewindable; your life with be trapped for eternity in that single moment. ‘Did you see there where he did it again?’

  I began to hope that George really was counting down to the end of the world, thirteen minutes and infinite seconds hence.

  ‘You know what,’ I said, ‘I’m gonna go grab a cigarette.’ I got up and hurried to the door.

  ‘Oh?’ Marge asked, ‘Oh, you know, you really shouldn’t smoke. My late husband smoked for thirty—’

  ‘Yeahyeahyeah,’ I said, ‘Hell of a guy.’

  Then I was outside. And smoking.

  TWENTY-NINE

  ‘Shoulda taken my sunglasses,’ I said, back inside, five minutes later, ‘It’s getting bright out there.’

  ‘We figured it out,’ Jessica said, grinning madly, ‘Marge is the alien.’

  ‘I believe you entirely,’ I said.

  ‘Nine minutes!’

  ‘Can I go smoke for nine minutes? Leslie asked.

  ‘Yeah,’ I said, ‘Why not. But: if you’re the alien, we’d rather you didn’t leave town; we may have other quest—and then she walked outta my life, just like that, into the suns—rise...nearly, birds chirping and—she said she was coming back, right?’

  ‘Dunno,’ Chuck slurred, ‘Not sleeping.’

  ‘She’ll be back,’ I told Jessica, ‘She’s into me.’

  ‘That’s why I come back,’ she said.

  ‘Was that sarcasm?’ I asked, ‘That’s so cool.’

  ‘Didn’t know I could be sarcastic?’ she asked.

  ‘Never know,’ I said, ‘Some of us are incapable of sarcasm. Like, as if I could ever be sarcastic; ffft.’