April 31

Today is April 31.

Today is the end of the world.

We were taught that Hell lay beneath us, but the red giant above begs to differ. We’ve been slowly getting pulled closer for centuries, adapting our way of life around the inevitable. But the shadow of Death covers all—humanity is no different.

Today, our dome's cryogenic stores will run out. Without our ability to keep the outer walls chilled, they will fail. Outside the dome, Earth is a barren rock. It is no longer the lush world our history books say it once was. The scalding ball of fire in the sky made sure of it.

We were trapped.

“Captain Rush, sir, what do we do?” asked my second in command.

“Go home, Valor. Be with your family,” I said, staring at the solar radar. The outer temperature of the dome was increasing.

My second hesitated before giving me a brief nod. The cracks in his facade were showing, but I would not scold him for it today. Not when we knew what was coming.

There were alarms throughout the city. Ones meant to alert everyone that the end was near. As the Captain of Defense, it was my duty to sound them. My order to give. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

Out in the city, millions of people were going about their day. They were following routines that gave them a sense of security, a feeling of control. Many were working jobs they'd dedicated their lives to. There were school children on the playgrounds, enjoying the freedom of their youth.

I didn't want to take that from them, too.

When I made my morning announcement to the city over the dome’s intercom, I referred to today as April 31. Most probably chalked it up as a blunder on my part. But it wasn’t. It seemed like a cruel joke for the end of the world to fall on May Day.

When the dome finally did collapse, there would only be a few moments of panic. The sheets of metal will warp and quickly expose us to the fiery atmosphere. Then, we will be cremated. Almost as if we never existed in the first place.

I sat in my chair, staring at the phone on my desk, yearning to pick it up and make a different call. But I couldn’t bring myself to do that either.

Valor had a reason to go home. He had a wife eight months pregnant. A real family. I had no one.

“For God’s sake,” I muttered, grabbing the phone off its charging port. “Do it.”

I pressed the numbers in a specific sequence that could never be trained out of me. The phone then rang.

And rang.

At first, I didn’t think she would pick up. But then a soft voice carried through from the other side. A voice I’d almost forgotten because it had been so long since I last heard it.

“Hello?” The word sounded so unbothered. She wouldn’t be once she knew who was calling.

“It’s me, Jessica.”

“Holland?” she choked. “Why are you calling?”

I squeezed my hand around the phone.

“Is Madison home?”

“Why are you calling about her? You haven’t seen her in half a decade. I doubt you even remember what she looks like.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. She has auburn curls like her mom, and green eyes like her dad.”

“Madison has no father. He died.”

I sat up straight and put my elbow on the desk.

“I’m still very much alive.”

“You might be, but the man who promised to build and nurture a family with me isn’t.”

“I would like to see her,” I said, tapping a finger on my lap. “Before she gets too old and wants nothing to do with me.”

The phone went silent.

“Is something wrong?” Jessica asked. I hated her perceptiveness as much as I hated the sound of fear in her voice.

“I need a reason to see my daughter?”

“Holland,” she warned.

“I just—” I sighed. “I just want to see her, alright?”

She could hear the desperation in my voice. She knew is was genuine. But she could also discern I wasn’t telling the whole truth.

“How about tomorrow?”

I coughed. “Tomorrow isn’t good. It needs to be today.”

“She has ballet at four.”

I stared at my watch. At the numbers counting down.

“I’ll be there before,” I said.

“Fine,” she grunted. “But don’t bail this time.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

The call ended.

I put my phone down and looked over at my wall of medals. Every ribbon was a reminder of why I was alone. Only one title ever brought me true happiness—and I'd walked away from it.

I sent the rest of my staff home. I told them it was because it was Friday. Not because my watch was vibrating every thirty minutes until total system failure.

When I stepped outside, sweat trickled down the back of my neck. It was noticeably hotter than this morning.

The drive to Jessica's was both foreign and familiar. The trees were no longer saplings, and the once fresh pavement was now cracked. I took a turn at the purple house that she and I used to groan about. Then I pulled into the driveway and just sat in the silence.

It was selfish to waste minutes I should have been spending with my daughter. But I needed them. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be able to make it to the front door.

When I finally made it, I tentatively raised my knuckles. I wasn’t sure Jessica would actually answer. I wouldn’t blame her.

My watch vibrated.

I looked down, and my throat burned.

30 Minutes.

I knocked. A moment or two passed, and the door slowly opened. Jessica was standing there with her confused-but-surprised expression.

I cleared my throat. “May I come in?”

Jessica nodded, eyeing me suspiciously as I entered. She followed me into the living room, where I catalogued all the changes. She’d gotten rid of all our old furniture, re-painted the walls, and hung up her art. I inspected the delicate watercolor closely.

“You’re painting again?”

“I just recently picked it back up. It felt right.”

“They’re gorgeous, Jess.”

I turned around and met her cerulean eyes. She quickly looked away, tucking her wispy red hair back behind her ears.

“Thanks.”

“Where’s Madison?”

“She’s upstairs, probably texting her new boyfriend.”

I frowned. “She has a boyfriend? She’s just a kid.”

“She’s sixteen, Holland. But you’d know that if you’d been to her last birthday.”

“I know.” I swallowed. “And that’s why I’m here.”

"You can't fix five years of absence by showing up once."

"I know that," I said, rubbing the sweat from my palms onto my jeans.

“You think you can just re-enter our lives now that it’s convenient for you?” Jessica laughed, and the lights in the room flickered. “I don’t think so.”

I opened my mouth to reply, but was cut off by another voice.

“Dad?” My head jerked toward the staircase. Madison was standing at the base. “What are you doing here?”

The sight of her startled me. She was tall now. Almost as tall as her mother. Five years had passed me quickly. But for her? Those years had transformed her into the young woman before me.

And I’d missed them.

“I’m here to see you.”

She scrunched her nose.

“Why?”

“Can’t a father visit his daughter?” When she didn’t reply, I admitted, “I missed you. I missed you both.”

Madison's brow unfurled, and she took an uncertain step toward me. My shoulders tensed.

“What makes this time different?” she asked, almost hopeful.

I wished I could say it wasn't because the end of the world was imminent. That I hadn't selfishly come to make amends for my own conscience. Instead, I took Madison's hand and smiled softly.

My wrist buzzed.

“I’m home now.”