Auts: What Sorrow Flies Off Roofs

  Auts

  M.E. Purfield

  Published by trash books, 2023.

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  AUTS: WHAT SORROW FLIES OFF ROOFS

  First edition. March 1, 2023.

  Copyright © 2023 M.E. Purfield.

  Written by M.E. Purfield.

  Also by M.E. Purfield

  Auts

  Auts: Sampler

  Auts: Books About Everyone

  Auts: The Satellite

  Auts: What Sorrow Flies Off Roofs

  Blunt Force Kharma

  Blunt Force Kharma: Section 2

  Blunt Force Kharma: Section 3

  Blunt Force Kharma: Section 4

  Kharma's Gatto

  Blunt Force Kharma

  Cities That Eat Islands

  Cities That Eat Islands (Book 1)

  Cities That Eat Islands (Book 2)

  Cities That Eat Islands (Book 3)

  Fish Hunt

  Cities That Hide Bodies

  Miki Radicci

  A Black Deeper Than Death

  In a Blackened Sky Where Dreams Collide

  Blood Like Cherry Ice

  Surly Girly

  Bawling Sugar Soul

  A Girl Close to Death

  Heart on the Devil's Sleeve

  Sinking Stones in the Sky

  The Ghost and the Stream

  Expressway Thru the Skull

  Hacker's Moon

  Miki Radicci Series (Books 8, 9, & 10)

  Miki Radicci Series (Books 2,3, & 4)

  Miki Radicci Series (Books 5, 6, & 7)

  Miki Radicci Shorts

  Miranda Crowe

  Bagged

  Munki Moo Moo

  Munki Moo Moo

  Radicci Sisters Mystery

  Psychic Sisters

  My Dead Body

  Saints

  Squeezed

  Broken Psychic Hearts

  The Emptiness Above

  The Sludge Below

  Doe

  Auties

  The Killer

  Favors

  Bumper

  Rats In The Cage

  Tenebrous Chronicles

  Party Girl Crashes the Rapture

  Angel Spits

  Six Feet

  Tweens with Pop Guns

  Lightning From The Fire

  The Subject

  Standalone

  Breaking Fellini

  Delicate Cutters

  Jesus Freakz + Buddha Punx

  Buddha Punx + Ghetto Girlz

  Natural Born Killer

  Peanut Shells: A Short Story

  A Sandwich Can't Stop A Bullet

  Bagged

  Geek With The Numbers

  His Alibi, Her Smile

  Klepto Pyro Mojo

  Limits of Stupidity

  MiLK

  Whaz My 'Ame

  Orange Flecks (Short Story)

  Through Tangled Nerves

  The Creative

  The Morrows

  Defective Brain Club (Short Story)

  Line (Short Story)

  The Van Outside (Short Story)

  Doorway Down (A Short Story)

  Just (A Short Story)

  Short of a Long Holiday (A Short Story)

  Joyrides for Shut-Ins

  American Standard

  The Pick-Up

  (R)Evolution

  How To Make Friends with Teenage Anarchists

  Watch for more at M.E. Purfield’s site.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Also By M.E. Purfield

  Dedication

  Auts: What Sorrow Flies Off Roofs

  The Auts on Patreon!

  Sign up for M.E. Purfield's Mailing List

  Further Reading: Auts: Books About Everyone

  About the Author

  Deepest thanks to my Patreon supporters who make this story possible. Christy Lynn Margaret, Rebeccah Adkisson, Ann Purfield, and Allen Richards; you are the best!

  Isaac found Leo on the roof again. He spent a lot of time up there since the big news. Isaac didn’t blame him. The world went insane since an asteroid the size of Texas was speeding towards it. No one could accept. Except for Leo. Or it seemed he was accepting it just fine.

  The black man in his early thirties wore his traditional work clothes of jeans, a paint-stained black hoodie, and a Pikachu cap that failed to contain his thick back hair. In all of his fourteen years of life, Isaac had never seen Leo wear anything else. He supposed that building handymen couldn’t wear anything else but those kinds of clothes. Tenants called on him all ours of the day to fix things in the building. Even at three in the morning. And there was always something to fix in this hell hole. The owner lived in another state and only cared about the place when people reported him to the city for violations or when rent was due. Leo was always there to fix the issues and collect the checks. Since the bad news, though, the owner didn’t answer his phone anymore but Leo always helped. Isaac’s mom doubted he was still being paid.

  “Hey, Leo,” Isaac said, walking across the tar roof, crossing his arms to the strong, bitter wind that blew across the top floor of the six-floor walk-up. “You busy?”

  Leo turned from his chicken shack that used to be a pigeon coop. In the last few years, he thought raising chickens was better not only for him but for the building. Once a week, Isaac and his mother found a paper bowl of eggs at their door. Used to be six at a time, but since a lot of people left, they had received over a dozen.

  Leo placed the rake against the outer wall of the wood and wire structure and closed the door so the chickens couldn’t escape. There had to be more than twenty clucking and waddling inside. Isaac was always surprised the animals never over-ran Leo and jumped off the roof like Mr. Dante did a week after the news. The poor old man splatted onto the alley between the buildings. He was one of the many suicides since then.

  “Hi, Isaac,” Leo said in a monotone. His face matched his voice. He was always an even kind of guy. Never got upset or excited. Once in a while, Leo released a burst of anger when a project presented a tough problem or a burst of joy when he figured out the problem. But he never became violent. “Is it the leak in the bathroom again?”

  Last week Leo broke open the ceiling above their tub to repair the constantly dripping rusted pipe that created a huge bubble above their heads. Mom asked him when he could patch up the ceiling. Showering with a jagged hole over her head made her uncomfortable. Not that Mr. and Mrs. Chase upstairs were watching her. They moved out soon after the news, hoping to spend the last days on Earth with their grandchildren in New Jersey. Leo told mom to give it a few days to make sure the pipe was fixed, then he would patch the roof.

  “Yeah,” Isaac said, kneeling at the coop and sticking his fingers through the mesh at the chickens that ignored him. “It’s not as steady as the other one but it is constant.”

  Leo nodded.

  “Okay. I will check on it.”

  “Today?” Isaac asked.

  “Is your mom home?”

  “Nah. She’s at work.”

  Mom worked at a Greek bodega few blocks away on Second Avenue. Usually, she had night shifts but when the nights turn violent, Mom pushed for day shifts that way she could protect Isaac at home. Since the National Guard took over the schools, the teen, like all kids, had nowhere to go. She trusted her son enough that he wouldn’t roam the streets during the day and stay in the building where he had everything he needed.

  “When does she get home?” Leo asked.

  “Four-fifteen as always,” he said. “Always before the sun sets.”

  “I’ll come by at four-thirty.”

  “You can come by now if you want.”

  Leo shook his head.

  “No. When your mom comes home. That way she can keep you out of my way and I can fix the problem.”

  Isaac smiled and shook his head. Isaac couldn’t help it. His father wasn’t around to feed his curiosity about how things worked. Before observing and questioning Leo’s repair jobs, the only way he learned things was in construction class. Next year, he would have taken robotics but that plan was squashed. Everyone’s plans were squashed.

  “Yeah, okay.”

  The alarm on Leo’s cell phone hiding in his back pocket chirped. He took it out and turned it off.

  “I have to fix Mr. Snow’s kitchen sink now.” He turned to the short shed a yard from the coop and opened the warped wood door. Leo picked up his large plastic toolbox. “I think it needs a new washer.”

  “That’s crazy,” Isaac said, following him to the exit.

  “No,” Leo said. “It happens all the time. Sometimes I have to replace the whole fixture. I hope I do not have to do that. The last time I went to Home Depot I almost got stabbed by an old woman buying nails.”

  “Jesus, Leo,” Isaac said, holding the door open for them. “No, kidding?”

  “No, kidding.”

  Isaac followed him down the stairwell to the third floor.

  “I don’t know why you even bother fixing things around here. In another few weeks, it’s not going to matter.”

  Leo stopped at the first landing and looked up at Isaac. The man’s face was blank but he tilted his head to the side in confusion.

  “Why will it not matter in a few weeks?”

  “Uh, duh,” Isaac said. “Giant asteroid crashing into the Earth. The end of the world. I know you’ve been watching the news. All the channels stopped showing anything but the news. Been twenty-four hours a day with them tracking it.”

  “Oh,” Leo said, continuing his walk down. “No. The asteroid isn’t going to hit Earth. It is not the target.”

  Isaac flinched, following him. Leo opened the door to the third-floor hall.

  “What are you talking about?” the teen asked. “The target is us, isn’t it?”

  The door closed, leaving Isaac in the hall without an answer.

  ISAAC SAT AT THE KITCHEN table across from his mother. A pale blond woman in her mid-thirties who appeared at least in her late forties due to the stress lines around her face that was now narrow and drawn down. He knew it was because the world was ending in a few weeks. Everyone seemed older and skinnier since then. Except for Leo. Leo wasn’t worried about the asteroid speeding towards Earth. Obviously he was crazy or had some serious denial issues.

  The apartment was quiet as they ate their canned meat ravioli. The windows closed off the sirens and gunshots from outside. Sometimes Isaac heard screams late at night in his bedroom. They woke him up from a deep sleep. Thankfully, they were few so he was able to go back to slumber.

  “Do anything interesting today?” she asked, sipping her lemon-flavored iced tea.

  Her voice sounded so tired. Isaac didn’t understand why she continued to work every day. They had no rent or bills to pay.

  “We need food,” she once said. “Mr. Mamatas always puts some on the side for me.”

  Aside from Mr. and Mrs. Mamatas and their children, Mom was the only other person working the store. Somehow they continued to stock their shelves for the remaining neighborhood. All the chain supermarkets were looted long ago and never replaced. The only thing that kept the bodega going was the Mamatas’ sign in the window that read Free Food. No one had to break in when the store was always open. People took what they could carry and lately they had been taking less and less as the days ticked closer to the big end.

  “Nothing much,” Isaac said, shrugging. “Stayed inside. Read. I don’t know. It’s hard to come up with things to do when you know that you’ll never do them again.”

  Mom stared at the ravioli on her plate and nodded.

  “Yeah,” she sighed.

  Maybe she would be better off at home, Isaac wondered. Maybe the store was depressing her. Seeing all those desperate and devastated faces every day pretending that they had a reason to eat, to survive. Maybe she should stay home for the last week. Though, with the streets being dangerous and nothing but news about the asteroid on TV, what could she do? She would be bored like Isaac.

  “All done, Mrs. Tennyson,” Leo said, exiting the bathroom and holding his giant plastic toolbox. His hoodie and pants were damp, yet his hat was dry. “I taped up the leak for now. I need to replace the pipe but I am not sure I have one. I might have to buy it.”

  “Oh, no,” Mom said, weakly smiling. “Don’t do that. I wouldn’t want you to go through all the trouble.”

  “Go through that trouble for nothing,” Isaac said.

  Mom widened her eyes at her son. Leo shrugged.

  “It’s no problem,” he said in a monotone. “I’ll try to go out tomorrow.”

  “Thank you, Leo,” she said. “I’m so glad you’re still around. Would you like something to eat?”

  Leo stepped over to the table for two by a small curtained window and radiator. He peered at the food in their bowls. One of his rare expressions spread across his face: disgust.

  “No, thank you,” Leo said. “Tomato sauce is disgusting.”

  Isaac giggled and Mom smiled.

  “It is a bit salty,” she said.

  “I have a nice loaf of bread at home. And some good butter. I like to eat toast.”

  “Eat like a prisoner,” Isaac said.

  “Isaac, please,” Mom warned.

  “I didn’t mean it to be insulting. I feel like a prisoner, too.”

  Leo nodded and turned to the door. “Good night,” he said and left their one-bedroom apartment.

  “He’s a weird guy,” Isaac said. “Smartest person I know, but weird.”

  Mom nodded and ate a ravioli.

  “He’s right,” she said, sighing and placing her fork down. “This stuff is disgusting.”

  “You know he’s not worried about the asteroid? He thinks it’s not going to hit us. Maybe he’s in denial.”

  “I brought home one of those Pepperidge Farm cakes,” Mom said. “You want a piece for dessert?”

  “Sometimes, I think he’s retarded.”

  “Don’t use that word. That’s not a nice word.”

  “I know. Sorry. I don’t know how else to explain him. He’s not stupid. He understands everything but he doesn’t understand that we’re all going to die soon.”

  “Can you please stop saying that?” she said, rubbing her eyes.

  Tears coated her fingers and cheekbones. Guilt filled in around his heart. If Isaac wasn’t at the table she would be weeping. Again. He heard her crying every night on the couch from his room all the time.

  “Sorry.” Isaac placed his fork down. Hunger left him, replaced by his mom’s contagious depression. “What do you think is wrong with him?”

  “Leo? I don’t know. I don’t think about it much. I guess it doesn’t bother me. I accept him.”

  Isaac nodded. He couldn’t argue with that.

  “Maybe I will have some of that cake,” he said. “Is it coconut?”

  A SCREAM WOKE HIM OUT of a deep sleep. Isaac sat up in bed and stared at the window. As his sluggish brain caught up with his body, he peered through the glass at the brownstones and apartment buildings on 5th Street. It was still night. No one was standing on the fire escape. It was probably someone down the street. Or a dream. He was having a lot of bad dreams. He didn’t care which it was as long as it didn’t happen again. He had a difficult time falling asleep tonight and, with his heart and mind racing now from the shock, he would have a hard time again.

  Isaac dropped back down, took a few deep breaths, and closed his eyes.

  The scream happened again. It wasn’t from outside. Anguished and full of pain. A woman’s.

  Mom!

  Isaac jumped out of bed and ran into the living room. The couch was open into a bed where his mom always slept, covered in sheets, pillows, and a blanket, but she was not in it. Mom, still dressed in her work clothes of khaki pants that hung off her food-deprived hips and a baggie purple polo shirt, paced around the room. Her eyes wide. Her mouth panting. She stopped at the open front door, grabbed her head, and screamed again. Or sort of screamed. It was surely full of pain.

  “Mom?” Isaac whispered.

  She dropped to her knees and grabbed her head, pounded it. Isaac cautiously stepped closer. He noticed the open suitcase on the bed and the open dresser drawers. Both had clothes strewn out of them.

  He stopped a few feet away from her and stared at her heaving back. Oddly, there was no one in the hallway outside. Maybe they were the only ones left on the floor.

  Mom twisted around in shock. Her wet, bloodshot eyes almost popped out of her pale head at the sight of Isaac. He jumped back. This wasn’t his mother. This was a frightened animal. A mad woman desperate for...something that she could never have. She scrambled closer on her hands and knees and wrapped her arms around his waist.

  “Oh, Isaac,” she cried. “I’m so sorry.”

  Shivering, he gently stroked her greasy, dark brown hair. Her arms throbbed around his body, at times almost squeezing his head off his shoulders.

  “It’s okay, mom,” he said. “It’s okay.”

  “No, it’s not. You don’t deserve this. I’m a terrible mother. You shouldn’t be here.” She sucked snot up her nose, coughed, then said, “We should have left with the others. She should be somewhere safe.”

  So it was this again.

  “No, mama,” he said, hugging her but not matching her pressure. “They said nowhere was safe.”

  Scientists figured that the asteroid the size of Texas and traveling over 30,000 miles per hour would hit southern New Jersey which included part of the ocean. The collision would set off an explosion the equivalent of 300,000 tons of TNT. If no one in the wide strike radius was killed from earthquakes, radiation heatwaves, or tsunamis, then they would soon die out from lack of food. All animal and plant life would die. Dust would fill the sky and block out the sun for decades. Anyone who survived would wish they died that day.

 

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