I leaned back against the couch, stared at the ceiling, and let out a quiet sigh.
The phone vibrated gently in my hand.
Grandma (on call): "Arthur, are you still on the call?"
I blinked, realizing I had zoned out on the call. I gazed back at the caller's name: Sweet Grandma. "Yeah," I said absentmindedly, the words floating out of me like they didn't belong to my own mouth. "I guess so."
There was a short silence on her end. I could almost hear her knitting needles pausing mid-click. "Grandma…" I sat up slightly, phone pressed tighter to my ear. "Do you still keep those old journals? The ones with newspaper and handwritten reports… about the disasters. Especially the one from 1999?"
She chuckled softly. "You mean those dusty scrapbooks I made when you were little and everyone thought the world was going to end but then it didn't because the fuck the world wouldn't end by a mere virus."
I didn't reply so fast but waited to hear that her sarcasm as usual.
"Yeah," She said after a moment. "Still up in the attic. In the cedar chest next to your late grandfather's fishing rods. Why do you suddenly want to read about 1999 death roll?"
I closed my eyes, everything I saw in that dream flashing boldly. I could feel it, smell the rotten flesh of decaying Zombies. "It's not just dreams anymore." I mumbled to myself, however she heard it anyway.
Another pause from her end, accompanied by a dark sigh. I heard two pins falling to the ground and a bone crack alongside a creaking sound perhaps from her knitting favorite chair. "You had another one, didn't you?"
I swallowed my saliva down my throat, recoiling upwards on the chair. Grandma was the only one who knew when I had a dream, vision or a premonition something bad would happen. "Worse than the others. It wasn't fuzzy like usual. It was clearer. I saw how the virus apocalypse begins but never got to see how it will end."
"Dear dear goodness. I haven't even gotten to meet the love of my life after your grandfather died and I was planning on going on a date to the elderly home with a young handsome police officer. Shit, when did you say the apocalypse is?"
"Three days from now. What do you mean you are hanging out with a hot police officer?"
"Chill, after all, I was the trophy every man wanted back in the days. Just a bit of dieting and exercise and grandma got her shape back! On a serious note, you think this virus is going to wipe everyone?"
"I'm very sure. Every sort of thing that has life would be wiped off. I can't tell who'd be alive cause I never stayed to the end of the dream."
Grandma went quiet again. I imagined her shaking her head, the way she always did when something serious was going on. It was a long pause but she continued like she hadn't instilled fear in me. "How about you come over tonight, Arthur? We'll go up to the attic, bring down those old scrapbooks, and look through them together. Maybe we can connect the dots. See what history is trying to tell us."
Instinctively, my head tilted to the half swung open door still sort of hearing Jeremy's laughter and comment on the zombie movie. I bit my bottom lip, with my head lowering.
Jeremy...
"Grandma… people can't be saved in an apocalypse, right? Even if they know how they're going to die?" The line stayed quiet for a few seconds. All I could hear was the soft creak of her chair and the faint ticking of a wall clock in her living room.
When she spoke again, her voice sounded heavier. "No, sweetheart. Once death has your name, that's it. Doesn't matter how much you try to avoid it. Death comes anyway."
My heart sank a little. I didn't like the way that sounded at all. She paused for a moment, then added,
"Whatever you do… don't try to stop them from dying. It's the universe's way of trying to clean up. Too many people, too much chaos. It balances itself in the only way it knows how."
A cold chill crept up my spine.
"…How many people have you told?"
"Just Jeremy," I said quietly.
She sighed. "Then let it stay that way."
"But—"
"No buts, Arthur." Her voice was firmer now. "The last time someone shouted the world was ending, people panicked. They started fights. Burned things. Broke into stores. Some even took their own lives. It got worse than the virus ever did. Fear kills faster than any sickness."
I didn't say anything. I just listened.
"Let them enjoy what time they have left," she continued. "And you should too, Arthur. You were lucky last time. You escaped it. But I don't think you'll be that lucky again."
My throat felt tight. "Grandma…" She softened her tone but from the speaker, it sounded so bitter. There was a small sneeze from her end followed by a sniff in.
"I love you, Arthur. Always have. You've got a good heart. But when the time comes, you have to be selfish. Don't make the same mistake grandfather made by saving people while he couldn't save himself. "
I nodded slowly, grandma's words sinking in. My mother always said her dad died from an unknown cause despite what I heard so far from her, his death might have been linked to the 1999 viral outbreak. "Thanks, Grandma."
"Oh, and call me by my name. You're grown now."
I smiled a little. "Okay, Edna."
She chuckled. "That's better. Keep this to yourself! Only yourself. The world is already a chaos on its own, you can't add much to it."
The call clicked off with a kiss sound and the room grew heavier in silence. I let the phone slip from my hand, watched it drop beside me on the couch. My head tilted back until I was staring at the ceiling again. It felt like everything around me had shifted.
I slumped further into the couch, like my spine had given up trying to hold me together. "I thought I could help," I muttered into the emptiness. "Why would the stupid universe give me the ability to see how people will die… but then make it impossible to stop them?"
My eyes stung with tears, but I refused to blink.
Suddenly—bam!— the backroom door flew open. Jeremy burst in, a mess, eyes wide like he'd just seen a ghost. "Dude! You gotta see this!" I didn't move right away. Just glanced at him, deadpan.
"Is it about the movie? Or are you going to convince me to drop my dreams?"
"No!" he barked. "There's a news broadcast. Bruh, hurry up!"
I sat up slowly, an ache settling into my chest. "What kind of broadcast?"
Jeremy was already halfway back out the door. "I don't know, man, but it's not normal! I've got this weird feeling—like… you might be right about that scary-ass nightmare of yours."