LAST DAY ON EARTH EP2
2872 Words
*Episode 2*
The alarm didn’t ring. It screamed.
7:00 AM.
Ethan’s eyes snapped open and immediately regretted it. The ceiling fan above him was spinning too fast, throwing shadows across the cracked ceiling paint. His mouth was dry. His back ached from the thin mattress that had a spring poking through.
For 3 seconds he just lay there, staring.
Then reality hit him like a brick to the chest.
"s**t. s**t. SHIT."
He was supposed to be at the hotel by 6:30 AM.
He threw the thin blanket off and tried to sit up too fast. His head spun. His elbow caught the edge of the metal bed frame and his whole body rolled right off the side.
THUD.
He landed hard on the cold tile floor, ass first. Pain shot up his spine.
"f**k!" The curse burst out of him before he could stop it. His voice was hoarse from sleep. "Stupid. Stupid. Why do I always do this? Why can’t I just wake up like a normal person?"
He sat there on the floor for a full minute, rubbing the back of his head, cursing himself in whispers. Every bad decision of the last month flashed through his mind. Quitting the warehouse job. Taking this hotel job with the 5 AM shifts. Missing the rent deadline last week and getting that second warning notice on the door.
"Get up," he told himself, voice shaking. "You can’t lose this one too. Not with them depending on you."
The bathroom was barely big enough to turn around in. The mirror was foggy and had a long c***k running through the bottom right corner. Ethan stared at himself. Dark circles under his eyes. Hair sticking up in 5 different directions like he’d been electrocuted. A 2-day beard he didn’t have time to shave and couldn’t afford to maintain.
He turned on the tap. The water came out cold and sputtered for 5 seconds before running steady. He splashed it on his face anyway. Once. Twice. Three times. The cold made his teeth ache.
As he brushed his teeth with the frayed toothbrush, he practiced what he’d say to his manager in the mirror. "Traffic was bad. The bus broke down. My alarm didn’t ring." All lies. The truth was he overslept because he stayed up until 2 AM staring at the ceiling, worrying about bills and the empty fridge.
He spat, rinsed, and walked out.
The kitchen was already loud.
His 12-year-old brother, Tunde, and 9-year-old sister, Ada, were at the small wooden table. The table wobbled every time they moved because one leg was shorter than the others. On it: a plate of burnt toast, a kettle of tea, and one egg split between them with a knife.
Tunde looked up first and grinned, mouth full of toast. "Look who decided to join the living world."
Ada snorted into her mug of tea. "Someone with a job is waking up this late? I thought workers were supposed to be early birds. Isn’t that what you told us?"
Ethan tried to glare but his stomach growled too loud. He grabbed a piece of toast. It was black on one side and still soft in the middle.
"Very funny," he mumbled through the bread. "You two wake up early to eat all the food and then mock me? Who taught you manners?"
Tunde kicked his leg under the table lightly. "We saved you the last half of the egg. Be grateful. I was gonna eat it."
Ada pushed the piece of egg toward him on a napkin. "You look tired, bro. Dark circles. Did you stay up playing games again?"
"I don’t play games," Ethan said, and it was true. He didn’t have time or money for games. "I was... thinking."
"Thinking about what?" Tunde asked, too smart for 12. "How to pay rent next week?"
Ethan didn’t answer. He shoved the toast and egg down, washed it with lukewarm tea that tasted like watered-down dust, and stood up. His chair scraped against the floor.
"I’m late. Don’t wait for me for dinner."
"Don’t get fired again," Ada called after him, swinging her legs under the table.
The door slammed behind him.
The morning air hit him and it was already warm. The street was chaos. Cars honking, people rushing to work, the smell of coffee and exhaust in the air. Buses were packed.
He ran.
His uniform shirt was half-tucked. His shoes were scuffed at the toes. He didn’t care. He cut through two side streets, jumped over a small puddle, and almost got hit by a delivery scooter that swerved around him.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. Manager.
He fumbled to answer but the call dropped. No credit left. No data.
"God please," he muttered under his breath, running faster. "Just let me explain. Just 5 minutes."
He was 3 streets away from the hotel when it happened.
He was running, eyes on the road ahead, rehearsing apologies in his head, when his right foot came down on something yellow and slick.
A banana peel.
Time slowed down.
His foot shot forward. His arms flailed out to the sides. People on the sidewalk turned to look.
A woman with a bag of groceries gasped. A cyclist swerved to avoid him, yelling something.
Ethan hit the ground hard.
CRACK.
His head smacked the pavement. White pain exploded behind his eyes. For a second everything went silent and the edges of his vision went black.
Then the noise came back. Voices. Footsteps.
"Hey! Are you okay?"
"There’s blood! He’s bleeding!"
"Someone call an ambulance!"
Ethan groaned and pushed himself up on his elbows. His hands were shaking. When he touched his temple, his fingers came back red.
Great. Just great. Perfect start to the day.
He sat up slowly while 4-5 strangers stared at him like he was a spectacle on the sidewalk. One guy was already filming on his phone.
"Move along," Ethan snapped, embarrassed, face burning. "I’m fine. I’m fine."
He wasn’t fine. His head was throbbing. But he couldn’t afford an ER visit. He definitely couldn’t afford to miss more work.
He stood up slowly, swaying, and limped to the nearest pharmacy. A small shop with a green cross sign. The woman behind the counter took one look at him and sighed deeply.
"Accident?"
"Slipped," Ethan said, placing the last bills he had on the counter. "Gauze. Antiseptic. Please."
She cleaned the cut. It stung like hell and he had to bite his lip not to hiss. She wrapped his head with white gauze and taped it down.
"Be careful," she said, handing him a small bottle of water. "And rest if you can."
He nodded and walked out, pressing the gauze to keep it in place. The headache was already starting.
He tried calling his manager again. Still no signal in this part of the street. He sent a text that probably wouldn’t deliver.
By the time he reached the hotel, he was 40 minutes late. Sweating. Bleeding through the gauze a little. Late.
The lobby was marble and cold and smelled like lemon cleaner. The same hotel where things were about to get very bad, but he didn’t know that yet.
His supervisor, Mr. Bello, was waiting by the staff entrance with his arms crossed and a clipboard in his hand.
"You’re late," Mr. Bello said flatly. No emotion.
"I’m sorry sir, I— I slipped. There was—"
"You’re fired," Mr. Bello cut him off. "Company policy. Third late arrival this month."
Ethan’s stomach dropped straight to the floor. "Sir please. I have family. I need this job. Just one more chance."
Mr. Bello looked at the gauze on his head, then at the cart of cleaning supplies. He sighed.
"Since you’re already here," he said, "you’re covering for 2 people today. All 12 floors. Alone. No extra pay. Consider it your last shift."
Ethan opened his mouth. Closed it. What was he supposed to say? No?
"Yes sir," he whispered.
Mr. Bello tossed him a cleaning cart and a master keycard. "Start from floor 12. Work your way down. And don’t make it worse."
As Ethan pushed the cart toward the service elevator, he passed the staff break room. The TV in the corner was on low volume.
A news anchor was speaking, face serious, a red breaking news banner across the bottom.
"...health officials have confirmed 3 new cases of the unknown respiratory virus in the city. Citizens are advised to avoid crowded places and report symptoms immediately. Hospitals are on alert. We will bring you more updates as—"
The elevator doors closed before he could hear the rest.
He didn’t think about it. He had 12 floors to clean and a headache that felt like a hammer.
----
Got it!! 🔥 So we stop Ethan on the hammer headache, and now we switch to *LUMI’s POV* for the rest of Ep 2.
Country-neutral, long conversations, slice-of-life before the apocalypse hits.
Here’s *Episode 2 Part 2: The Council Meeting*
---
*Episode 2 Part 2: 9:00 AM - Frames and Flashes*
`Word count: ∼1200`
The conference room smelled like coffee and printer ink.
Lumi sat in the third row, camera bag at her feet, notebook open. Around her were 20 other photographers. Some she knew. Some were new faces with expensive gear and tired eyes.
At the front, Mrs. Delgado, head of the City Photographers Council, tapped the microphone.
"Good morning everyone. Thank you for coming on short notice."
Murmurs. Someone’s chair squeaked.
"We’re here to discuss the upcoming _Light & Shadow Festival_," Mrs. Delgado continued. "It’s in 3 weeks. 5 days. 200 photographers. And we need this to be perfect after last year’s... issues."
A guy in the back groaned. "The power outage."
"Yes, the power outage," Mrs. Delgado said, not smiling. "So this year, we’re doing it differently."
For the next 40 minutes, she went through slides. Budget. Locations. Permits. Safety protocols.
Lumi took notes but her mind kept drifting. The festival was big. If she got a booth, it could pay 2 months of rent for her and the shop. But booths were expensive. And competitive.
"Question," said a man with a beard and 3 cameras around his neck. "Are we allowed to shoot portraits on site and sell prints same day?"
"Yes," Mrs. Delgado said. "But you need to register with the vendor team by Friday. No exceptions."
"Will there be security for equipment?" asked a young woman with pink hair.
"Yes. 24/7. But the council is not responsible for lost or damaged gear. Get insurance."
Lumi raised her hand. "What about the theme? Is it still ‘Urban Decay and Rebirth’?"
Mrs. Delgado nodded. "Correct. We want gritty, real, hopeful. No staged glamour shots. The judges want story."
Story. Lumi liked that. She’d been shooting empty streets at dawn for weeks. Maybe that was it.
The discussion went on. Arguments about lighting. About entry fees. About whether drones would be allowed.
"One last thing," Mrs. Delgado said, closing her laptop. "We’ve lost 2 sponsors. If anyone has contacts, please send them to me. We need the money or we cut 2 exhibition halls."
The room groaned.
"Meeting adjourned," she said. "Emails with forms will go out tonight. Deadline is Friday."
Chairs scraped. People stood, talking in groups. Business cards exchanged.
Lumi packed her notebook slowly. Her phone buzzed twice in her bag. She ignored it. She needed to find someone to share a booth with to cut costs.
"Lumi!"
She turned. Mara, a wedding photographer she’d worked with last summer.
"Hey," Lumi said. "You going for a booth?"
"Thinking about it," Mara said. "You?"
"Maybe. If I can find a partner."
"Let me think about it and text you?"
"Please."
They talked for 5 more minutes about lenses, about the economy, about how hard it was to get clients to pay on time.
Lumi’s phone buzzed again. 3 missed calls. All from the shop.
She frowned and answered as she walked out of the conference room.
"Hello? Jen?"
"Lumi!" Jen’s voice was panicked. "A customer just came back. They bought that vintage gold frame last week. They’re saying it’s too fragile. The glass cracked when they were cleaning it. They want to return it and get a refund."
Lumi stopped walking. "Did they drop it?"
"They say no. But... I don’t know. It looked fine when it left."
Lumi rubbed her forehead. Frames had thin margins. One refund could mean no groceries this week.
"Tell them I’ll be there in 20 minutes. Don’t refund anything yet. Let me see it first. Be polite."
"Okay... okay. Hurry?"
"I’m coming."
She hung up and started toward the parking garage. Her head was already calculating losses when—
Tap.
A hand on her shoulder.
Lumi turned.
Her breath caught.
"Elena?"
Her older sister stood there, 2 years married, glowing in a cream dress and sunglasses. Hair done. Smile wide.
"Surprise," Elena said, and pulled her into a hug. "You look terrible."
Lumi laughed, despite herself. It was the first real laugh she’d had all week. "I was up editing until 3 AM. What are you doing here?"
"I was in the city for a doctor’s appointment," Elena said, pulling back and looking Lumi up and down. "And I thought, why not see my baby sister? You never visit anymore."
"I’ve been busy," Lumi said defensively. "The shop, the festival—"
"I know," Elena cut her off gently. "That’s why I came to you. You work too much."
They started walking together toward the exit. Elena looped her arm through Lumi’s.
"How’s the shop?" Elena asked.
"Busy. Stressful. I just got a call about a return."
"Ugh. Customers." Elena rolled her eyes. "Remember when mom used to yell at people who tried to return things after a month?"
Lumi snorted. "She’d chase them out with a broom."
They both laughed.
"And how’s David?" Lumi asked. "And the baby?"
"David’s good. Working late. The baby is 8 months now and into everything. She tried to eat the TV remote yesterday."
"Oh god."
They talked the whole way to the garage. About Elena’s in-laws. About Lumi not dating anyone. About their parents and who was going to host dinner next month.
"Come by this weekend," Elena said as they reached Lumi’s car. "Just for dinner. No cameras. No shop talk."
Lumi hesitated. "I have inventory—"
"Lumi." Elena’s voice was firm but kind. "You need a break. One dinner."
Lumi sighed and nodded. "Fine. One dinner."
Elena hugged her again, tight. "I’m proud of you. Even if you look like you haven’t slept in a month."
"You too," Lumi whispered.
Elena drove off,
Lumi stood there for a second, watching it disappear.
Then her phone buzzed again. Jen.
She flagged down the next taxi that slowed by.
"42 West Street," Lumi told the driver as she slid into the back seat. "The photo shop."
"Got it," the driver said, pulling into traffic.
Lumi leaned back, rubbing her temples. Her mind was already back on the fragile frame and the angry customer.
Episode 3 and 4 will be posted tomorrow by 12pm and 3pm...
stay tuned....
please support me in my work...
Maybe you can give me a moon ticket..
- Writer
