Starts With An Earthquake...

"Well, lads."
Everybody fell silent when the Captain spoke. We'd been expecting him ever since we were summoned into the hall. In loose ranks we waited, shoulders pressed against those of our neighbours, feet shuffling with an anxiety that we all felt but could not name.
"Well," he began again, trying out a joke to lighten the mood. "It's the end of the world as we know it."
Nobody laughed. The song, though, of course, began running through my mind.
"Good news is we get to knock off ealy tonight."
Still no laughter - if anything, we were all frowning now. His news must be big if it was this hard to say.
"Look, it's been confirmed. Tonight's it. We can't pin it down, but tonight something so drastic happens that the future... The future is chaos. That's it. No civilisation, no order... no society, no art, no history or literature or movies made for tv..."
He paused, but did not look away. I admired him for that, for all I'd hated him most of my life.
"I don't know what the future will hold for us. We might not even be alive to see it. But if we are I expect you all here at the usual time, with your bravest faces on. Now go home. Skip dinner and go straight to dessert. Let the kids stay up watching cartoons. Crack open every bottle you've ever thought to save for a special occasion - there won't be any more of those."
His voice softened while his eyes hardened.
"Make love to your wife like you haven't since your wedding night. Call up old friends and say just how much you miss them. Tell everyone you love that you always will."
He turned away from us now.
"You are dismissed," he said. His words echoed somehow in the densely packed room.
For a moment nobody moved, and then one by one my colleagues filed out. I watched as, thinking himself alone, the Captain removed his tie and let it drop to the ground. Undoing the top button of his shirt he dragged a chair over to the window and collapsed into it.
"Get going, Richard," he called and I jumped. I'd thought he hadn't noticed me. "You've got a family to get home to."
I looked at him for a second, a weary silhouette of a man, outlined by a glorious sunset.
"Want company?" I offered, loosening my own tie.
"Not particularly."
It was almost like the clouds were burning, as if the catastrophe had already begun.
"Okay," I said, letting my hand rest on his shoulder for a moment. "See you tomorrow, Dad."