Heavy, brooding clouds floated in the gray sky, shrouding the sun and casting gloom over the landscape below. Pushing the door open, I entered the café, the jingling wind chimes acknowledging my presence. I chose a table by the window, though there wasn’t much to see outside. Life felt like it was drawing to a close, and humanity seemed to be preparing for its final journey. The usually bustling street stood deserted, affirming the sense of impending doom. I ordered a black coffee to match the mood, and the lone barista took her time preparing my bitter drink.
In another corner, a young man suddenly coughed up blood, the crimson droplets stark against the white marble flooring. The woman accompanying him rushed to his side, rubbing his back as tears streamed down her face and her hands shook. The waiter offered the man some water to drink.
“My black coffee will have to wait, I guess,” I said, speaking louder than usual.
But the barista continued to work, unperturbed. The man was now squirming on the floor, as though pain slithered in through every pore. Diminutive puddles of blood lay on the floor, the thick liquid, a reflection of peril and fear.
“Stay strong, Anwesh. I’m here for you,” the woman repeated, enveloping his hand in hers.
The man soaked in sweat and blood, looked distantly, his gaze a silent plea for mercy. Clasping his stomach, he shrieked, the sound akin to the howling of a wounded animal piercing through the darkness.
“You are not alone,” she said, her words a faint whisper of hope.
“It’s just a matter of time, isn’t it?” the man replied, gasping for breath.
“Today, it’s me. In another three weeks, everyone will be dead. The earth will burn like an inferno,” he continued, smiling ruefully.
The woman knelt, buried her face in her hands, and wept.
“So, this is how it’s going to end,” the waiter said, his words striking like lightning.
“We will all be gone—wiped out from the face of the earth. There will be no evidence of our existence,” the barista spoke, joining the others.
“I still haven’t gotten my coffee,” I said, waving at her, but my words fell on deaf ears.
She stood still, her eyes shifting between the dying man and the grieving woman. The clock ticked slowly, each second feeling prolonged. His cries were muffled, with every breath a struggle for survival. As he hovered between life and death, I jotted down notes in my little notebook. The sky turned pitch black; thunder roared, and the clouds unleashed pent-up emotions. My heart froze as I watched the man’s soul leave his body. He lay on the floor, peace washing over him, finally free from earthly bonds. Throwing a stern glance at the bartender, I left the café.
An ambulance sped past me, its bright lights shimmering against the darkness. I walked down a narrow alley, raindrops trickling down my jacket, with its color echoing my melancholy. A sudden burst of noise, confusion, and disorder from the opposite end caught my attention. My shoes tapped rhythmically against the pavement, and cool air rushed against my face as I hurried through the surroundings, bracing myself for what I might encounter. A massive hospital loomed ahead, housing gloomy and distressed attendants.
“Please, save my son,” cried an elderly man.
“My husband is all I have,” begged a woman, her palms pressed together in prayer.
A reporter announced, “A flesh-eating bacteria is on the rampage, destroying lives. It infiltrates the body silently, causing extensive damage to the tissues for months before eventually attacking the respiratory system. The victim’s lungs develop a cobweb-like structure, the airways become constricted, and the patient experiences tightness in the chest, feels suffocated, and ultimately succumbs to eternal rest.”
Ignoring his booming voice, I left the scene. Death became a familiar occurrence. Lifeless bodies lay on the streets unattended. The air was filled with a palpable sense of destruction. Gripped by fear, people stayed indoors. Empty grounds became crematoriums offering peace to the departed. Regardless of the wreckage, I was unruffled and bound to my duties. Occasionally, I felt bouts of empathy surge, but I snubbed the emotions instantaneously. It wasn’t my job to sympathize with the victims. I was an executioner of the Supreme’s will.
“The earth has become tainted with malice, dishonesty, and nefariousness. The time has come. We need to do the inevitable—terminate mankind. In another year, I want the earth to be free of human life. I appoint you as my chief executioner,” said the Supreme, pointing at me.
I bowed, my mind brimming with questions.
“Don’t think about the integrity of your actions. Abstain from embracing emotions of any kind. Just do it. Focus on the task in hand,” said the Supreme, his voice thundering. Most of the population had been wiped out. The air was filled with a stench—the combination of dried blood, rotting flesh, and unsurmountable sorrow. The living population scouted for an escape. But there was nowhere to go. The world had transformed into a colossal cemetery.
The clock ticked swiftly, and the death toll multiplied. I felt a strange sense of relief envelop me. My work here was almost done, and I could finally be free. I would return to my humble abode and live in peace. Yet guilt stabbed at me like a dagger. How could I live in peace after witnessing such mass destruction?
Three weeks passed, and there was no trace of life. Retreating to the darkest corner of the earth, I closed my eyes and awaited my orders.
A few years later, I heard a high-pitched cry. A baby was born. “The manifestation of vitality—the first sign of life,” I sighed, a faint smile cracking at the corner of my mouth.
“Oh, Supreme, You are an enigma,” I said, looking at the sky and marveling at His wonders.
