Gunnar found shelter after he walked through the desert like a strung-out junkie for days. An abandoned ranger's cabin was now home.  He sat on the hard cushion of the armchair, legs set up on the battered coffee table. Wooden walls surrounded him and a fireplace burned brightly when the temperature did not. Tonight's fire marked his third solo attempt at the craft, and he had it almost down to a science. To save his propane, he ate his canned pasta cold. This was the life, night time fires, a soft bed and complete isolation. There hadn't been any run-ins with other humans since the bandanna gang.

He tried not to think about it, but going back to that store was unavoidable. The food wouldn't last him forever, even if this ranger had stocked up for the year to come. There wasn't much to do out here, but Gunnar found his exploration of the surrounding area took enough time out of the day.

A black leather sketch-book lay on the table beside his feet. The fire crackled, and stole his attention; the wood supply was running low. He eyed the pages in the notebook as possible kid-, kindle, kindy- whatever that word was that Trevor had used last week. Before he tore out a page, a smooth black pencil fell out, the kind he used to draw with in art class freshman year.

A sketch on the first page caught his eye. A tall sky-scraper took up a third of the page. Gunnar found the roof most interesting. It had an entire park growing at the top, even large trees. The smaller building wasn't finished, only a light frame took shape on the paper. Its lines lacked the definition of the first building.   

Gunnar's fingers twitched and he grabbed the pencil. Something about that small building needed to be finished; he just couldn't pinpoint it. Before he knew it, the fire had died out, and he found he could no longer draw without its light. He had filled five pages with similar drawings of strange buildings. The structures didn't resemble any he had seen in his seventeen years of life. They probably existed somewhere, on TV or in richer parts of the city he went by in city buses as a kid. He didn't dwell any more on the drawings. He left the book on the table and went off to bed.

The light of morning sunrays burned through the curtains, forcing him out of bed. He grabbed a box of crackers for breakfast and sat down in front of the sketchbook. His fingers had that itch again, and he had an image in his mind he just couldn't shake. The sketch didn't turn into a building this time, but an object. It was simple, made up of wood, tarp, rope, and plastic. The wood beams supported the tarp that was slightly raised in the middle like a roof. Four waterproof boxes sat raised off the ground just below the tarp. The thick plastic boxes had small holes so the water could run through into a pipe, which connected to a large barrel. He knew the barrel also needed to be weighted down since the storms lately were enough to knock a person off their feet without issue.

Once the sketch was finished, Gunnar figured it would be a decent idea to build the thing. Time was his ally. It couldn't be too hard. He had put together really cheap furniture before for his mom. None of the instructions were in English, so this had to be easy. The instructions were all contained in the picture and his head.

Shops class was a place where he belonged in school, and this felt just like that except there was no teacher to get in his way. He chopped the wood until it was at the right height and found a good way to solidly dig the pillars into the ground. Nothing would be higher than three feet so it couldn't be easily spotted or be blown down.

If this actually worked, which he really doubted, he could be set for water as long as there was rain coming down. It had been dry for a few days but the air seemed heavy and stickier today so maybe he'd get this up just in time for some free water. It was better than standing out there with a bucket or bottle. He had done that the last few times, but the winds were way too brutal in those storms. He sighed. This silly contraption would probably just blow over after all this.

When his hands were busy, his mind always started to wander, no matter how much he fought with the stupid thing. It was as stubborn as he was. He couldn't stop thinking about that silly redhead and her smile. If she hadn't bothered showing up to the party, he wouldn't even be here right now. He might not have had a falling out with Rob over the Vita issue.

Rob sat on the couch smoking another joint. No one outside their regular crew had shown up yet, and he was already on his third of the night. His beer sat beside the ashtray.

"So tell me about this chick," Rob prodded.

Gunnar nearly jumped hearing the deep voice. He shot Rob a dirty look for the smoke the pothead blew in his direction. She's better than anything you could ever get, he thought. "She's pretty hot, redhead-"

"Oh man, don't fuck with a redhead. They're batshit crazy on a good day."

"Mischa's not like that."

"Yet," Rob said with a laugh.

"But she's got this friend that for some reason thinks you're mature and responsible."

"Why the fuck would you say that? I'm not sleeping with some stuck up bitch with daddy issues."

"Yeah, that's not your type," Gunnar drawled sarcastically.

The front door swung open a few more of the Shadows came in with cases of beer. They nodded at Rob and Gunnar as they made their way to the kitchen.

"So, if ya could not be a complete asshole to this blonde chick Mischa's friends with, we'll be even."

Rob's eyes lit up a little. Gunnar knew he wanted to settle the score from that awful job they pulled months ago. There was nothing to be proud of on Rob's part, an awful judgement that finally bit him in the ass. Gunnar had planned to use the fact that he had saved them all from jail time as leverage to buy himself time away from the Shadows and sit out a job or two. He was failing English, again. Unfortunately, Aida really wanted to take some dance lessons with some girls from her school, and they were far from free. Gunnar had promised her that she wouldn't have to spend another year dancing at the center with some half-baked lady who taught them things more useful at a strip club than a dance studio. He was would be damned if he'd let that happen to his baby sister.

"You never said she was a blonde," Rob said with a wink.

"Yeah, makes up for everything else," Gunnar muttered.

 He waited another two hours for Mischa to show up. He was anxious enough to have a beer with Rob and the guys. She probably wasn't even coming; he didn't know why he was so worried about this. This wasn't some high school party she would want to go to with dancing, jocks or popular kids. She was better than this shit-hole he had invited her to visit.

He scanned the room and hoped Mischa wouldn't be scared off by the coked out twins in the corner, who were getting friendly with Matt, another one of the Shadows. The causal bong on the table would probably freak her out too. He was about to move it when a voice called out from the other room.

"Gun, two girls here for ya. Nice work, buddy!"

He glared at Ivan as he walked into the entryway to see Mischa and the blonde looking around with polite smiles. Damn, this night was going to convince her that he wasn't worth being friends with or potentially more.

"Mischa," Gunnar said with a smile. She wrapped her arms around him for way too short a time. She smelled real good too, like a flower that hadn't started dying yet.

"Interesting place," she said when she looked over into the far room. "What are they doing lines of in there?" she whispered softly enough so Vita wouldn't hear.

Gunnar laughed and forced a smile. "It's probably better if ya don't know."

"We brought drinks," the blonde said and held up a case of red bottles of some girly drink.

"Cool, uh we got a fridge if ya wanna keep 'em there."

The blonde raised an eyebrow and looked at him for too long. "You don't remember my name, do you?"

Gunnar shrugged and hoped he could pawn her off on Rob soon because Mischa was looking sexy as hell tonight. Rob's place was a complete dive, but she was dressed in a tight little black dress, which showed off her long legs. It would be a shame to waste an opportunity like this. The blonde looked annoyed again, and he realized she had been talking to him while he appreciated Mischa.

"Let's find Rob. You'll like him a shit ton more than ya like me."

"I like being punched in the face a shit ton more than you right now," she said angrily.

"Vita, c'mon lighten up," Mischa said and looked back at Gunnar, probably in the hope that maybe this time he would try to learn her name. He wasn't bothered by her concern.

They walked into the living room, and Gunnar cursed when he saw Rob and Matt lighting up the bong. Couldn't they stop, they'd been at this all night. Rob looked back with a big smile when Gunnar cleared his throat.

"We heard that you ladies were coming, so we thought we'd fix you a lil something. Nothing like a strong toke to welcome you with open arms."

Gunnar turned to the girls who had passive faces. They hadn't quite decided how to respond just yet. "Ya don't gotta take it. He's just being, Rob."

Vita smiled at Rob before she glared back at Gunnar. "Yeah, let's start this party."

"Atta girl, blondes do have more fun." Rob patted the seat next to him, yet she sat a reasonable distance away from him. Matt had lit up the bowl and took a long hit before he passed the bong and lighter to Vita.

Vita was intimidated by the glass tower, eyes wide. Clearly, she hadn't ever held one before by the way she studied the thing. Rob laughed in that way he did around chicks that made them just a little embarrassed and accept his help. She frowned as he teased her. When a few false compliments left the man's lips, she was all ears and keen to follow his instructions. Gunnar sighed and shook his head. To his disappointment, he realized Mischa paid the pair attention with a smile. Why did that crap work on women?

"Now you gotta inhale real deep and just keep going, sweetheart, like you're running a marathon or something."

Vita pulled away after a moment, and Rob pressed his fingers to her lips to keep them closed. Gunnar rolled his eyes, but the blonde seemed to like the pot smoking 101. He looked over at Mischa who still smiled even when her friend started to hack like a terminally ill patient.

"Red?" Rob asked and tilted his head to the side.

"Mischa, her name's Mischa," Gunnar said in annoyance. He hated that she was smiling at Rob.

Her red hair swung away from her neck and cleavage as she turned back to Gunnar. "Oh sure, now you remember names," she whispered playfully in his ear. Fuck, he wanted her badly. She turned back to Rob. "Maybe just a little."

She sat on the couch and looked up at Gunnar. She probably expected that he would help her like Rob had done. Vita started giggling like any other schoolgirl who thought she was so high after one feeble hit.

"Like this?" Mischa asked, red lips staining the glass. When her eyes met his, he wished her mouth was around anything but that communal filth.

Rob began to laugh as he looked at Gunnar, hands in pockets and a frown on his face. "Gun couldn't show you. He don't know a bong from a fishbowl, do ya kid?"

Mischa's eyes were curious, and they didn't leave his body as he began to consider blundering his way through this to impress her. His mind told him not to, but south of the border, there was a different consensus.

As he moved towards the couch Matt began to laugh far longer than necessary. "Oh man, kid don't embarrass yourself. Just let Rob show her. You ain't never touched a bong, 'cept to pass it off."

There it went, his chance to impress Mischa and show her this unfamiliar world. He shut his eyes as he took a calming breath. Not an athlete, a musician, or that guy who could score her weed, Gunnar couldn't think of a single quality he had to offer her.

"Oh you don't smoke?" she asked, sounding a little surprised.

He ran a hand through his messy hair. "Uh no, not really."

Instead of laughing at him like most of the women who transiently made their way through this house, she smiled and handed the bong off to Rob without lighting it. Her eyes dropped to the spot next to her on the couch and he wasn't stupid enough to miss that hint. Whatever she saw in him was a mystery, but he didn't care.

Just as he was about to sit down, a loud crack echoed and the lights and music all stopped working. He toppled onto Mischa as the ground shook and shook, rattling all the bottles until they fell off the tables and split on the floor.      

"Here it is...  end of days"

The house was shaking even stronger, a crack addict hunting for a fix after days of detoxing, the new life for earth. His chest tightened and he tried to remember where his sister Aida was right now. Gunnar shifted off of Mischa but kept looking into her eyes. She didn't look afraid or anxious. She looked like his sister when she sat and thought about how this year just wouldn't be better, no matter how many lies their mom would spew. Mischa's look bothered him, made him wonder why she wasn't freaking out like he was.

Gunnar slipped his phone out of his pocket to check for a message from Aida, but it showed no new messages. He still had about three bars of service so he wasn't completely shot just yet. When he looked back up, Mischa's calm eyes were on him.

"Everything's going to be fine," she said and took one of his hands.

A sound, like a huge meteor had struck the earth, stopped everyone in their tracks. The house shook more violently before it settled back to sustained quiver.  Matt, Rob and Vita getting cozy, and the people doing lines in the other room even joined them. Gunnar dared to walk over to the window with Mischa's hand in his and peak outside. Strong winds pushed vehicles down unintended trajectories and uprooted lampposts and street signs, which became projectiles, thrown by an invisible giant. Two people held onto a big oak tree to avoid being picked up by the strong winds. Their grip was short lived. Mischa's hand trembled against his sweaty palm.

"Still think things will be fine?" Gunnar asked as he watched the calm fade from her eyes.

"Yes," but her voice didn't hold much power over the howl of the wind.