Seven days. That's all they get to prepare for the apocalypse.
Maybe that sounds overly dramatic. After all, the world will still be there, and all the people on it. They even know about it in advance, so nobody's going to die when their plane loses all power. But all their electronics, everything that makes the modern world so modern—that's all going to be useless, fried by Earth's own electromagnetic field.
The science is out there for anybody who really wants to know. But there's only a week left before the apocalypse, and most people have better things to care about than science.
The Watchers are, fortunately, better-prepared for this than most other organizations. Until very recently, being out of contact for years at a stretch wasn't just common, it had been the norm, and even in the 21st century they weren't always able to remain in constant contact. Thank God for slow-moving bureaucracy; every Watcher still knows the traditional protocols for acting on their own, although they're sending out a refresher email just to be sure that nobody's forgotten anything since they went to the Academy. The Diaries are, of course, always written first on paper; they'll be safe from this disaster.
Joe's spending his last days of phone and internet making contact with the Watchers he's in charge of, making sure that they know where their nearest coworkers are. He may still nominally be in charge of North America, but from now on everybody's going to have to do a lot more for themselves.
Duncan, Amanda, and Adam have a plan. He doesn't know what it is, and normally that'd have him worried; he's seen their plans in the past. But this time? This time he'll trust them, without a single question. Adam ferreted away the Diaries with six days left until the apocalypse. Amanda brings large crates to the bar, where they're loaded onto a semi for Duncan to drive into the night.
All three of them act like the bar's a stop on the Underground Railroad, constantly bringing people in until sending them to their next destination. Joe recognizes some of them: people that at least one of the three likes, or at least doesn't hate outright.
Already, the city's mood is turning nasty. There's no food left in the stores, and often not much of anything else, either: whether it'll be useful, or somebody just wants one before there aren't any left, everything manufactured is a hot commodity. Once the transportation's gone, there won't be any way to survive in the city, and everybody there knows it.
The Immortals haven't tried to talk him into leaving; in fact, haven't said much to him at all, always busy with their plan. It makes him wonder: after all, they're taking all of their other friends and acquaintances out of the city, taking them away from all of this to protect them. But even Mac hasn't tried to talk him into leaving.
It's easy to fall into despair when the world's ending and you know it. And not only was the world ending, but Joe was all alone most of the time, with the Immortals having abandoned him to work on their plan and save others. Maybe he wasn't as good a friend to them as he'd thought, if they'd save casual acquaintances before him. Maybe they were doing the smart thing and not wasting their scarce resources on a cripple—what good would he be to them, anyway? Even if he could hobble around now, his legs wouldn't last forever, and somehow he didn't think that making things wheelchair accessible would be a priority, after the apocalypse.
Time slipped through his hands like water, as he devoted himself to what will no doubt be his last deeds on this world. He won't be there, not for anybody; the least he could do was make sure that his last actions would do somebody some good.
It was the last day before the Immortals finally come to tell him that they were leaving him behind. He should feel insulted that they thought that he was stupid enough that he hadn't caught on yet, but he couldn't manage to gather enough energy or ill-will to make the last words he speaks to his friends be harsh ones.
"Joe…" Amanda said. "We have to leave now if we don't want to have to walk part of the way."
Joe started to say something, but Duncan was faster than he was. "We've packed all of your belongings already, so all we need is you."
"And yes, I found your hiding place," Adam chimed in.
It took a moment for that to sink in. "I thought you were leaving me behind," he confessed.
"Why would you think that?" Duncan asked, genuine confusion in his voice.
"None of you have said more than two words to me this past week, about your plans or otherwise. You've been moving people through here like it's Grand Central, and haven't said word one to me about leaving. And with these legs…"
"Joe," Adam said, "you are more than just your legs. We didn't have to think twice about you coming, because you're our friend and because you're a valuable resource. We didn't say anything to you because we respect the work you've been doing, and thought that you already knew that you were coming."
It should be a crime to feel this good with the apocalypse less than 12 hours away, but what could go wrong, living in a post-apocalyptic community led by the three of them? He smiled and planted his legs and cane firmly on the ground. "All right, what are we waiting for?" They left the bar and didn't look back.
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