Disclaimer: Stepehn King created the idea behind this story, so, all credit goes to him.

Authors note: I was gonna put out another chapter of my other story, Come Together, but, I was at work and I was thinking the same exact thing that the lead character in this story was thinking. I read Cell in September, and for some reason, tonight, I thought about what would happen if the Pulse really happened. I came home, sat down, and this is what happened. I hope you like it.

Can't live for Tomorrow

1

"God, I hate this fucking job."

What am I gonna do? It's not like I can just stay home. Not with three kids at home who don't understand that Wal-mart just doesn't give away Gameboys for free. Nor with a pregnant wife who is tired of living in a tiny, two bedroom apartment. Where the heat doesn't work all the time. And more and more of the wall in the bathroom falls down into the bathtub every time you take a shower. And, don't forget the stupid dog. If it isn't fed every so often, it will eventually start picking off the kid's one at a time.

"This job sucks ass."

Yeah, but it pays the fucking bills.

"Hey, Duane!"

John's annoying voice could be heard over the squeal of 14 drills. And a Smashing Pumpkins song at full blast on a damn good radio. And ear plugs.

"What?" I replied, as sarcastic as I could manage.

"What are you doing right now?"

"Uh, well, it looks like I am standing here waiting to hear what ever stupidity is about to come out your mouth."

"What? I can't here you over top of that radio!"

I walked over to the radio and hit pause.

"I said what?"

John looked like he didn't believe that, but, I think he could tell from the look on my face that I would be more than happy to repeat what I really said. I don't think that his ego could take it.

"I asked you what you are doing. I just got a call from Dave. We have to have all the Mitering for Tennessee done before 1st shift gets here, because, it has to be SRD'd before the truck has to roll at 8." John took a step back after he said this. He must have known what was coming.

I looked down at my wrist watch. 5:30. AM. First shift will be here in a half an hour.

"How many pieces?"

John took another step back.

"Twenty five."

"How long are they?"

Another step.

"Thirty foot"

"SON OF A BITCH!!! WHAT THE FUCK KINDA SHIT IS DAVE TRYIN TO PULL???"

John took two more steps backward. If I wasn't so pissed, I would have laughed because of the look on his face.

"Look, I don't like it myself, but, you know that they do this too us all the time. There is no reason to get upset about it." John looked like he needed to take his own advice, cause my tirade sure was making him upset.

"First, they make us work six days a week. Then, they put us on twelve hours shifts. Now, they are doing there best to bury us in fucking work. Who the fuck do they think we are? Superman? Fuck this shit. I am not doing it. Get Chris. Rick left me a note that I have to have all these pipes drilled for assembly. I only have three quarters of them done. I ain't gonna have Rick on my ass when he gets here because they aren't done. No way."

I stood there looking at John, knowing what is coming.

"Well, Dave said the mitering has to be done. The drills can wait."

John took a step forward, trying to assert himself.

"What about the note Rick left me?"

I took a step forward, glaring at him.

"N-n-n-now Duane, there is no need to get mad."

I could tell from the look on his face that he was trying to decide if he should run. I don't guess the three foot long pipe that I had propped on my shoulder was helping his confidence any.

"Who's mad? Why would I be mad? What would I have to be mad about? Hmmmmm…"

I took another step forward, bringing John within striking distance.

"Oh, wait, I know. I could be mad about the fact that you are trying to fuck me over."

"No, I'm –"

"-not trying to fuck me over?" I said, finishing his sentence.

"Yeah, I'm not trying to fuck you over"

I took another step, causing him to retreat two steps.

"You're not trying to fuck me over, huh? Well, it sure looks that way to me. You are going to pull me off the saw because you don't want to work with Chris. What's wrong, he spends all night on his cell phone?"

John opened and closed his mouth, unable to answer.

"Well, why don't you act like a fucking supervisor and tell him to put the fucking thing away? Or, even better, act like you got a fucking pair and call Dave back and tell him that he is shit out of luck if he thinks that we are gonna get those fuckin welded deck done before 8. Tell him that if he wants them done that bad, he better carry his ass in here and do them himself. Otherwise, I don't know what to tell him. Cause, I sure as shit ain't gonna do it. Rick is Dave's boss. Therefore, I do what Rick says. And, Rick told me to have as many pipes done as possible. I ain't Dave's bitch. And, I ain't your bitch. You don't like it, then, you can suck my dick. If Dave don't like it, get him on the phone and I will tell him the same thing."

I turned around and walked back to the radio, pushed play, and went back to the drills. I couldn't see all of John, but, I could see part of him out of the side of my eyes. He stood there for a few seconds. At one point, he took a half step forward, as if to re-assert his position. But, like I thought he would, he turned and walked off. I know that he will go to Dave when he gets here and Dave will go to Rick. Then, Rick will come to me and tell me that even though I was right, I should have put it a little more nicely to John. I should try to get along with John, I guess, but, I can't stand the spineless little cocksucker.

"God, I really hate this fucking job"

Yeah, but, what am I gonna do?

0000000

"Hey, Duane, what are you still doing here?"

I turned around and looked at Rick. He stood there smiling that stupid ass grin of his. He knew I was mad, and he thought that it was funny as hell.

The bad part of it was that he was right.

I looked down at my watch. 2:59 P.M.

"Fuck you Rick. You know what I am still doing here."

I turn back to the drill, hearing him snicker at me.

"What did you expect? John is a whiny little bitch, but, he is my sister's husband, so, I gotta stand up for him sometimes. You know as well as I do that he is a worthless little prick, but …."

I sighed. "Yeah, I know. Why don't you divorce your wife? I would if I was you. There is no way that I could put up with that son of a bitch living next door to me. Divorce her and move the fuck out."

Rick laughed.

"Shit, I wish I could divorce her, but, she would get half of my money. I ain't gonna give that bitch shit."

"Hey, you know why divorces cost so much?" I asked him.

"Why?" he said, that stupid grin never leaving his face.

"Cause they are worth it."

Rick snorted laughter.

"God you kill me. Anyways, Tim will be here in 10 minutes. You need to go home and get some sleep."

"But, Kyle just gave me these orders. I need to get them done."

"It's Friday. Go home and have a good weekend."

"Okay." I walked over to the table, took my apron off, tossed it under the table and walked towards the bathroom. As I walked, I pulled a cigarette from my shirt pocket and light it. Inhaling deeply, I opened the door to the men's room. As the door slowly closed, I turned and saw Rick walking back to his office. He was opening his phone, dialing. Probably calling that bitch of a wife of his. I looked down at my wrist watch. It was 3:03 P.M. I took another drag off my cigarette and the door closed.