The Jackhammer
He’s been rolling around the bed for the past 45 minutes. The noise is unbearable. Nothing seems to drown it out. Komie finally gets out of bed, ‘fuck!’ he says. Fuming with rage. He can’t remember the last time he actually sleep for more than 2 hours. He was disappointed in the Tarot reading, they mentioned he would sleep peacefully tonight.
‘Turn that off!’ Komie yells. No use, it’s as if he is screaming from underwater. He can’t even spot Johan, he is wrapped in a fog of dust. Everything is vibrating. Running along side the house, Komie spots the thick orange cord. He practically jumps to the outlet and rips it out. ‘What is it?’ Johan says calmly. ‘I’m exhausted! I can’t sleep with you jackhammering 24/7!’
The blast should’ve wiped everyone off the face of the planet. No one could’ve survived, at least that was the original plan. But, Komie made it. For the first 7 years and 7 months, he thought he was the only one, the chosen one. A single noise from a jackhammer changed all of that five months ago. He found Johan, shaking like a maniac trying to hold onto the machine in one place. It was and still is the single most confusing image Komie has ever seen in his life. ‘I’m rebuilding Earth,’ Johan would say. Like an outfit, Komie wore a drape of confusion from that moment. Never getting any further explanation.
Johan, was a simple man. Born in an academic household, he grew up idolizing Hemingway, Monet, Mozart, and the like. Forced from an early age to read extensively. ‘Observe and talk less’ was his father’s life advice for him. His mother, Mary, was different. She was strict and practically ran the town. Pessimistic about the future, she always painted a darker version of every scenario. ‘The world is going to end soon’ was her tagline. Believing the entire race would soon collapse. She spend the better part of her 50s building a bunker, only to realized midway that the wood had termites. She gave up on the project and spent the remaining years complaining that they don’t have a safe bunker. Luckily, she never had the opportunity to see the apocalypse happen. She passed away from a heart attack, when Johan turned on his favorite toy, the jackhammer. Ironically, his father also later died when the bunker collapsed on him. He was trying to re-build it for Mary.
‘Here, take this.’ Johan takes out a leaf.
‘Stop. Just stop this!’ Komie replied.
‘Can’t, just plug me back.’ Johan’s voice cracked. He was getting anxious.
‘You’ve been hammering the shit out of the ground for the past 5 months, and god knows how long before that — ’
‘Since the blast.’
‘What?’
‘I’ve been doing this since the blast.’
‘You’ve been jackhammering for almost 8 years?’
Johan takes out his pocket notebook and flips midway, ‘Yeah, close to 8 years. I’m doing my part. Rebuilding Earth and speeding up the decomposing process. I can’t waste anymore time.’
‘The Pantheon in Rome has a concrete dome, and it’s been standing since 80 CE, and I’m certain if you go there right now, it’s still there.’
‘Roman concrete is not the same as these modern cement concrete.’
‘You’ll be dead before you finish this road. You’re an addict!’ Komie looks around and spots a gardening pruners. With one motion ends Johan’s life. The tank instantly went empty. The fuel that ran for 8 years stopped. ‘Now you can rest.’ Komie said with a grim satisfaction while looking at the cut orange cord on the ground.
Johan knees gave out and he collapsed onto the concrete, in one motion. Hitting his head squarely on one of the pieces. Blood splattered all over. Like tiny dreams, each concrete was tainted with the flaw of men.
A huge weight was lifted from Komie’s shoulders. He slowly walked inside, glanced at the Tarot cards on his right. ‘I guess it was right.’