Upon Boredom- Collection of Random Stories?

Mornings are great. They fill you with a sense of power, the knowledge that where others have died you have lived yet another day. Marcus will admit that he’s done some awful things to live this long, but he had his reasons. Some people out there were nice, but most were mean. A bunch of mean, filthy monsters.

Part 1- How We Got Here
The sun began to rise over the first few skyscrapers outside of the city. They were dilapidated, in disrepair, and in bad need of staffing. Marcus knew that new staff wouldn’t come to replace the last. When the GM crop disaster wiped out a year's worth of crops and livestock it hit the city hard. But it affected more than just this city. The next city over had a higher population, and the global economy went too far negative when nations started buying food from each other.
The GM crop disaster came in a few waves. The first was the Wilting: crops began dying off at an out of control rate. Then the economy crashed when farmers took out loans to buy feed for their livestock- which was now their only source of income. Everything really kicked off once people realized that new produce wouldn’t be on the shelves at stores, and so bought all they could. When things started to get really bad, families started to move from city to city hoping to find food.
When all was said and done, nobody had any food… so things got worse. Massive riots broke out, and eventually people died… Although it’s no surprise that bodies couldn’t be found.
Things were getting better now, most of the world’s population had died off, but small communities flourished. Marcus was part of a small community, just a dozen or so people, and every now and then they could see plants sprouting out of the barren fields… The Wilting was over, but now came a new dark age. With what had happened in the past year, Marcus didn’t think anyone would be very easy going when it came to sharing food.

Part 2- Why We’re Not Here
Marcus watched from the top of a semi-burnt out office building, one that had been consumed almost entirely in fire when the riots hit their peak. There was another group just a little while down the road, they had used abandoned cars as a wall. The community seemed peaceful enough, Marcus had even been there once during winter while trading furs for gallon of gasoline. The community Marcus was with had a generator, and every so often Marcus would make a trip down to the other community- which will be referred to as Fortress Road -to trade for another gallon or so of gasoline to keep keep it running. Fortress Road had a collection of leaders, though Marcus hadn’t met any of them, that had decided that walling off a section of highway in the city would be a good defensive tactic, and be good for trade. They had been right, as Fortress Road was a thriving community.
Today Marcus was waiting for something to happen. Late that night he had seen fire in the distance, but didn’t think it was from his community, or Fortress Road. He hadn’t expected a war party, which was what it was. The war party gave out a war cry, then charged the wall. Marcus saw a few men in the first few rows fall as gunfire erupted from Fortress Road, but in the end there were too many. A few more people from his community had gathered to see what was happening, but not many were very moved by the sight. Fortress Road had recently cheated another community in a furs for metal deal, and it was widely suspected that the group being cheated was cannibalistic in nature.
The car wall had been toppled over, and many of the people of Fortress Road had fled to Marcus’s community, but some had stayed to beg for mercy. They didn’t receive any. A funeral pyre had been constructed inside what used to be Fortress Road- the cannibals didn’t seem to eat their own -and another fire had been constructed just a little ways off. The second fire was used to roast the dead for a feast.
The cannibals never went up to Marcus’s community, but they had taken Fortress Road. A tent city had been built, and every so often scouting parties could be seen scavenging in the ruins. Eventually people in his community had had enough, and their leader said they would move further into the city.
It was a hard few days as they neared the center of the city, where they found an apartment building that seemed unaffected by both the riots and what had followed. Tanned hides were placed over windows to keep heat in, and most people stayed off of the first few floors when finding a room to sleep in- the first few floors would be fortified and trapped. They were lucky nobody lived in the building.
The building was about thirteen stories high, which was actually quite short compared to the surrounding buildings, but nobody wanted to spend too long fortifying a building only to find that it had another group living in it.
There was little food in the city, and a few people died. At one point during a scavenging run a few planter pot had been found, and were now being used to grow tomatoes and onions on the roof. Sadly, this wouldn’t be enough for long term.

Part 3- What We Have Here
Marcus didn’t spend much time with the rest of the group. In all honesty, they reminded him of his family, whom he had last seen before the Wilting. He kept to himself, mostly watching on the roof. One day another man had approached him, and asked if he thought they could actually live this far in the city. “Maybe,”, Marcus said, “But it will take a long time before we can really sustain ourselves here,”. The man seemed satisfied with his answer, and left down the fire escape. That night there was a lot of grumbling among the group.
Marcus had volunteered to go out scavenging, they were getting low on- of all things -medical supplies. He had spotted a hospital when they came into the city, but the group didn’t have time to scavenge then.
Two others had joined him, together they made a one day hike to the hospital.
“Quiet,”, Commented the first man, who Marcus had recently met. His name was Jonathan, which was all he had offered to Marcus. He was a good six feet five inches, which was just a few shorter than Marcus.
“Don’t add to the suspense,”, Said the other man. He was actually one of Marcus’s close friends from before the Wilting, though they didn’t see each other much due to having separate jobs.
“I’m not, I’m just saying it quiet here,”
“Well cut it out, we don’t want anyone to hear us if there is anyone here,”
“You’re paranoid, nobody’s here,”, Replied Marcus.

TBC

"Contestants! Get ready!", announced the announcer.
"You may begin in 3, 2... 1... GO!", continued the announcer.
Allan darted forward, keeping pace with the other contestants. Number seven was gaining on him, so Allan jerked to the right, cutting him off. Fifteen proceeded to strike seven, a killing blow from his knife that sent seven to the ground... It didn't matter, he was just a blue team contestant... Plus, the crowd ate that stuff up. Another blue team member- number nine, stumbled over seven, just barely recovering.
Allan was part of red team, and the game was Base Capture- a new TV hit where there are four teams consisting of fifty players each. It worked a little like capture the flag, only a team would start by capturing a base from a randomly selected team- some teams started with a base... Fifteen got up to Allan, "That was some nice work there fifteen!", yelled Allan.
"I owed it to you nineteen, he wouldn't have stumbled without you!"
They ran on, gaining on station two. It was just in front of them now, but yellow team had already begun taking the base. No matter, yellow team looked worn out, it would be an easy grab for red. In fact, most of the game would be an easy win. The teams hadn't been random this time, they had been sorted by background. Yellow was filled with new recruits in the army, blue was mainly white collar workers, green had blue collar workers who had recently quit or got fired from their jobs, and red had violent criminals. The game could span over three weeks, at which time a winning team will be selected, and any remaining players of other teams would be pardoned.
"It looks like yellow may take the first base, and in a record time of only... What's this!? Red team is closing in on yellow, this may get ugly!", said the announcer, "We'd like to tell the younger portion of our audience to keep a close watch on that red team, they're said to be a shifty bunch!".
Allan didn't like this as a job, but when the program calls for your "participation", it's a good idea to play along. Besides, the reward for the winning team was a 90% discount on all consumer goods. He didn't like it, but this could be just what he'd been looking for all those years of poverty.

Part 1: Walled In

For as long as Jacob could remember, the city of Detroit had been an example of modern prejudice and filth. Around the bend of the twenty-first century the city had gone anywhere but uphill. The economy had been failing in the region even before the collapse of the oil trade with Middle Eastern countries, but it seemed that the pits of hell had no limits. Jacob thought that if it fell any lower the government would have to step in.
When Jacob though about the government stepping in, he hadn't been thinking of a wall. The government had declared in 2019 that "Detroit was a pool of hatred, extending- somehow -to the coasts of the nation by means of gang violence, and racial prejudice,". Later that day the military was called in to stop anyone from exiting or leaving the city. As one could imagine, people don't take kindly to their government saying they can't go where they want to and, naturally, riots began.
The government was quick to intervene, stating that "Detroit is a danger to the population of the United States, if not the world,". This is how the wall began, a whole nation focused against a single city based on the idea of national threat.

Part 2: A Whole New Country

TBC

'I'm doing this for my family', thought Francis. 'For my wife, for my son... for mom and dad'
Francis started to tear up a little, 'for my brother'.
"Okay recruits!", yelled the commander, likely to be heard over the APC's engine, "When this APC stops moving, we charge out!"
"There'll be a grocery store to the left, head there!"

The world went silent, signalling the end. Francis knew that the likelihood of living was low. The commander suddenly swung open the doors, letting in sunlight. There was little time to adjust, Francis and the others threw themselves out of the APC. A group of zed came towards them on their right... The group shredded them with a storm of lead slugs. The firing would only attract more. The man to Francis's right ran up to the grocery stores door, quickly opening it. Two men ran forward into the building, aiming for any zed that may bee inside. The building was clear, Francis and the others went inside.
"Close that door dammit!", yelled the commander. Francis could hear the APC letting loose a stream of machine gun bullets. Two other troop carriers had joined it, signaling that groups A and D had arrived. More troops stormed into the building. The commander took out a can of spray paint, mapping out the plan.
"A squad, you'll take the alleyway here,", he pointed to an alley that began at the side of the grocery store, "D squad, follow the road north along this path,", he traced as road that had many connections with the alley. "B squad, you'll follow me down this road,", he now pointed to a road with only one connection to the alley, that connection was a block away.

A squad left first, B squad gave them cover as they went. Next, D squad left with the cover fire of B squad. This left B squad with little cover fire- the only cover fire would be from the APCs. They managed to get a little ways down the road without incident. Two fighter jets screamed over head, napalm exploding underneath. They all heard gunfire from the alley, then it was quiet again. "A squad, copy!", the radioman yelled into the phone strapped to his shoulder. "A squa!", the commander stopped him, then made them all crouch. He pointed ahead. There was a massive group of zed in front of them, maybe a few thousand if they were lucky. "Call in fire support,", he said to the radioman. The radioman began the transmission.

The group of zed noticed them, and suddenly the world was filled with noise again. The shuffling of feet, and the overbearing intensity of the moans. "Open fire!", screamed the commander. They let loose yet another river, but there were too many zed, that fire support had to come fast. "Reloading!", yelled the man next to Francis. Francis loaded in a grenade, then shot it into the center of the crowd... almost no effect. They kept coming and, just to show them how unlucky they were, another group of zed came streaming out of a nearby super market.
'The moaning', he thought, 'is the loudest thing I'll ever hear'. He was wrong. Two more fighter jets came booming out of no where, letting their payloads of liquid fire engulf the zed.
'I'm doing this for my family', he thought again, and the commander gave the order to keep moving.

It was early day. The sun was starting to cast it's light onto the land, giving what was left of the trees shadows. Drake, a tracker from inland America, had moved North East in hopes that someone would need a good tracker. What he hadn't thought about until now was that tracking in the desert would be hard. Wind from the West constantly moved the sand. Sandstorms were also devastating, and occurred too often. Just that night- and the day prior -the land had darkened as eighty mile per hour winds ripped the landscape, it looked different now.
The only reason Drake had kept his bearings was that the car he had spent the night in hadn't moved. Drake looked Eastward with his binoculars. There was a faint flickering of red lights every few seconds. He remembered his father telling him stories of how the old ones would make such towers for communication, but Drake couldn't see what was so important about a bunch of red lights. Perhaps they were used to signal sandstorms, but his father had told him that at one point the world had been green, with water all over the landscape. How Drake envied the old ones, they had life easy and decided to wreck the world for the next generations.
Drake, with his loose fitting clothing- which was good in such a hot and sandy environment -and broadsword, continued East. East to Detroit, East to work. He wasn't the only pilgrim to these lands. Many people, the tech hunters in particular, saw fortune in these lands. The world around this place was harsh, but this place was harsher than those places... made them look like watery lands. A lot of these pilgrims came from the city Maya-May, what the old ones called Miami. Those were the water merchants, seeking and making hoards of wealth off of the less fortunate people in the deserts. Drake had read of the old ones as well, he knew that this place used to be surrounded by fresh water, but where did it go?
Drake continued East, maybe he would find work, maybe answers.

It took many days to go any real distance. A dust storm had built up, and for three days it went on. Drake had managed to find shelter in an old transporter. When he had come upon it, it was covered in dried mud. Drake had scraped away some of the mud. In reality, the transporter was a very fine silver color. The paint hadn't left it, nor had the lettering on its side.
It was an Aulten II Public Transport. The door took some time to open, however, this was before the storm, and Drake had had enough time to force the door open. Drake closed the door behind him, then looked for anything that may give him more information on the vessel. There was only one place where he may find any reading material on the transporter, but it looked as though there would be plenty to look at. All of the seats were passenger-less, but some still carried luggage.
Drake started with the compartment near the drivers seat. It had nothing in it, which was a shame, but hardly the end of the world. It was quite likely that any form of parchment or written text would have crumbled at the touch anyhow. By now the storm had hit, and the lighting was poor... Hardly a time to be reading. Nevertheless, Drake went through all of the luggage. He tossed many items, most of which were ragged clothes, or badly weathered children's toys. Though most of his scavenging had been fruitless, he did manage to find a light thrower, which, oddly enough, was still in it's hard clear-cloth case. The tool was labeled as a Watt & Son Flashlight. The casing also held two batteries.

The light was low, and Drake didn't dare waste his new light thrower. He tried to sleep for most of the storm, but on one night he stayed awake. The wind of the dust storm was pelting the side of the transporter. Thankfully, the inside of the transporter had been a good temperature all the while Drake was inside, cool compared to all other places. The last night in the transporter, though, was a whole new story. At least he got some sleep...

Into the dull light of winter night, a place most subtle in all its pleasures. The air, not to nippy, clung cold to your skin. The wind was low, but just strong enough to ruffle hair. The snow crunchy under foot, giving sound to the silent night of a day long since passed. Matt’s grandfather had once told him to not be weary of change, not of the future or what it holds. He had told him to embrace the resistance of time, let it add to him, give him meaning, and deep purpose. Matt went silently on, the crunch of snow barely audible. He whistled a little song, a lullaby his mother had once used to get him to sleep. He didn’t remember the words, just the tune. He whistled on, making his way up the street. These winter nights were something to behold, something to remember. Matt had spent countless nights outside with his family. It was not a strange thing to find oneself out on a night like this, thinking nostalgic thoughts.
Matt often looked back on the past, back on opportunities gone by. He hated his younger self for being so arrogant. The young are so full of energy and life, yet empty of direction. That was humanities flaw, not the constant war, not the inability to see the wrongs from rights, but how so few ever found what they were looking for simply due to the fact that everyone was wandering. Matt would think these thoughts often, almost every time he went on a walk. He knew there were just a handful of others who walked like he did. He couldn't grasped how most people didn't do this. Despite how much he hated his younger self, he loved his earliest memories. The saying was true at that moment, youth is wasted on the young.

Dusk, fifteenth of September, 2052, Life goes on like normal. 11:25 am of September sixteenth, life changes forever for a young boy in the United States. The state isn't important, it won't be one for much longer. 11:27 am, steel doors close long metal tubes where, deep underground, the sun won't be seen again for a long, long, time.
On the first of October, 2070, exactly eighteen years and a sixteen days later, those once young see the sun again. The world has changed... The old world is gone. Lost in the fire of a cataclysmic event, and nearly two decades of unpredictable weather.

"You have to go now," said mother, "Go and find a safe place, Thomas,"
"Why must I go?"
"It isn't safe here,"
"Why won't you and father come, too,"
"Father is getting older, as am I,"
Yet again, the life of a child of a old world, one now gone, changes forever. He's twenty five now, and his parents are nearing sixty. His parents, thou they seem the smartest people to Thomas, would never make a trip on the over world. This is Thomas's story... One where he must walk alone in a world of lost memories. This world of ghosts... A static realm.

The last rays of light split the clouds, casting an orange glow over the buildings in small, walled in community of West Aesta. West Aesta stood alone in the marsh fields, just North of Glada. The village, or Burh, as some would say- for that's what it really was -was housed by a garrison. In fact, most of the residents were of that garrison, though still took part in the daily routines. Everyone in the garrison spent most of the day watching from the walls, though what for was questionable. This part of the country had't been raided in decades. This lack of raiding was in part due to the old king, Joseph the Light Bringer, who had led his great army of steel warriors against the hoards of dark beast. It was said that King Joseph had gotten his name from his army of steel soldiers- whom many say were truly made of builder steel -though it was widely believed that it was due to his rise to power. King Joseph, son of Joseph, had come to power directly after his father had been killed by his most trusted lieutenant and brother, Calvin the Loud, who couldn't keep the secret of killing his brother.
But enough history for now! I have a story to tell!
As the last rays of sunlight broke into the first, then last rays of moonlight, a great number of ground-shakes could be felt. Then came the the noise. Not one man in the garrison could see what it was, though all knew what it must be. The only thing that could shake the ground so. The only thing could could scream in whispers. The only thing that could make itself unseen, even in such conditions as met in the marsh. This was a hoard... one of old. The dark beasts had risen again.

I was ten, once. I remember ten as well as I remember eleven, and twelve, and all the others. My memories are saturated, the ones before ten. They're red. I never quite knew why, it was like something didn't want me to see the whole picture. Maybe I didn't want myself to see the whole picture... I guess it's too late to ask now.
I was sixteen once, too, and that I remember a great deal. I remember camping, my friends... Looking up into the sky and wondering why we're here. Why we are what we are, and why. My biology teacher, a hardcore Christian, said that God had made us... But not directly. He said that "God made evolution so that we may have true free will. God created possibility". I like to look back on what I've been told, and what I've learned. I often see that those who didn't mean to, those who once thought themselves- and may still -little, gave me the greatest insight of all. They gave me reality, though I refused to listen.
I was young... WE were young. Again, my teachers had taught me more than they had to. Again, my biology teacher gave insight. "It's called symbiosis", he said, "It's when organisms help each other to survive,". He didn't know then, perhaps not ever, but I had already made a connection. I'd walk into adulthood a blind baby, not knowing left from right, and it was only through others that I would see... and it was through me that they would here.
When we were just little kids, I was a trouble maker... but as time passed, I had been appointed- silently -to be the fatherly figure of my group. I was often the cautious one, and they the outgoing... Times change, I suppose.
As I entered adulthood, this is when I was seventeen, I came to a hard realization. I was getting older. I didn't have plans. I had never been in a real relationship. My past was saturated red, but only seen as grey. A great, colorful, black and white photo.
I guess my friends had that realization, too. They stepped up their game. They became adults before my eyes. I won't have children... but now I know what it is to be a father. I got to watch as those I love, those I hold close to me, stretch in the morning, and say goodbye in the night. Yes, I was seventeen when my friends moved away. "wyrd bið ful aræd, fate remains wholly inexorable,", said my English teacher, "It guides far, and even strange. But we always hit the mark,".
Sometimes I humor myself by going outside, and just watching the stars. I look back and ask, "What happened?". I know the answer, it saturated my past red, and left it a colorful black and white. I know enough about the answer that I lock it away. I ask what I know, and refuse to listen to the answer. Life moved on without me.

Alex looked out upon the city. It was bustling with life at this hour, just before dark. The sun cast it's usual orange-cherry light against the backdrop that was the sky. His eyes were sticky and dry from his usual late hour insomnia. Alex lived on the fourth floor of an apartment building, room 10 on that particular floor- this apartment building had rooms labeled by floor, so his room was really D10.
"The moon looks close enough to touch today, right?" said Wesley, his younger brother by three years. They'd been living together some time now, almost as soon as their oldest brother, Irving, had passed. They had been left Irving's reputation. Irving had an alcohol problem, but was by no means a bad person. He may have been roughly sanded at times, but he never had intentionally bad intentions. So, they had been left the label of 'potential alcoholics', which meant that they'd live on the worst floor of the apartment, and Alex would have a low paying job. It was odd how far and fast information, PERSONAL information, was passed in the city. Maybe Irving had just left his mark in more places than anyone had ever thought.
"So Saturday?" asked Wesley
"Yeah, hope we have the right address,"
"Me too... When was the last time we saw mom and dad?"
"Oh, jeez." Alex thought for a moment, "Two, three years?", Wesley had moved in with Alex when their brother died. They lived a few hours away from their parents.
"Wesley,"
"Yeah?"
"Do you.. Do you still blame mom and dad for what happened?"
Wesley stayed quiet. He had always thought that Irving's alcoholism was caused by their parents lack of parenting around him. He was their first child, and parents are bound to make mistakes, but all of the boys had a deep connection.
"No"
"Thanks, I don't think Irving would have wanted us to be mad," said Alex, "Certainly not after so much time,"
They stood looking out the window, the sun was falling. Soon they would make the trip to their parents house.

Alex was a great brother. Wesley didn't know why Alex kept him around, he was lousy. He was good for nothing. He had a crap job bagging groceries while his brother busted his ass trying to keep the apartment. Alex was a great brother.
Why did the world treat them like this... Why Alex? The world didn't seem all that fair to Wesley. Alex didn't have an inch of hatred on his soul. Meanwhile, Wesley hated his own parents. He hated them for how they treated... How they HADN'T treated their brother Irving. Irving got little recognition for what he did, which drove him to alcoholism. It was their fault, all of this.
How could he hate his own parents? That wasn't right, he knew it deep down.
Wesley spent whole nights thinking about that. This was one such night. Tomorrow they would go see their parents. Alex had asked him if he still blamed them, to which he lied with a no. God he was a lousy brother. Alex had chosen to take him in... He had no right to lie. He had no right to be mad.
Wesley watched as the hours went by in measurements of coffee. He didn't want to go, but he would.
When it came time to go, Wesley got quietly into the car. Alex drove them the whole two hours non-stop.
1128, Franklin Avenue. 1129, 1130. The houses flew past, getting eventually to 1148. That was their parents house. Alex parked the car next to their parents SUV. Dad must have heard them pull up; he was looking out the door. He had a huge grin.
"Boys! You made it!"
Alex stepped out of the car, "Yeah! It's great to see you."
Wesley opened the door, stepping out.
"Wesley, how you holdin up?" asked their father
"I'm fine"
"That's good... Come on in, no sense in staying out,"

The inside of the house was covered wall to wall with pictures. Pictures of aunts, uncles, grandparents, their parents, Alex, Wesley... Irving. He hated them even more. How could they keep that there? They hadn't done anything to deserve a son like Irving or Alex! It was like some sick trophy. He was staring, and his father noticed.
"He was a fine young man," he said, "I would do anything to get him back,"
Wesley started to get nauseous. That happened whenever he got sad, especially about Irving. He hadn't even gotten to know him before he died. Irving had practically moved out when Wesley was seven. Tears started forming around his eyes.
His father moved over, putting his arms around Wesley, "I know... I know, it's hard," his fathers voice wavered.
"Why?"
"I don't know," his father said, "I don't know. Somethings are just hard, somethings we just can't understand,"
Alex was still looking around the room when their mother came in.
Wesley didn't hate his parents, not truly. They had always been there, just not at the right time. He needed something to hate.

Alex looked around the room once more. By this time, roughly ten minutes after they had walked in, Wesley and their father had calmed down. Alex didn't cry, not that he wasn't sad... He had already done his crying. He thought he was going to, seeing his brother and father in such pain. His brother had almost no memory of Irving, just the times he'd come over on holidays. It was as hard on Wesley as it had been on Alex. He had known Irving all his life, they hadn't been born that far apart. He remembered going on walks with Irving. He remembered his voice, the way he talked. The way he had always been there for the needy. Ready to take on any task with his stupid, fun bravado.
"What's got you down?" he would ask, "Why so glum?", just a few things he would have said. "Alex," he would say, "Don't you ever let go of anything, you might need it someday... Someday it might need you,".
Those were some of the last words Irving had said to Alex. Alex had barely ever listened to his brother when he said stuff like that, but he wanted to honor his brother this one last time. Irving would have been proud to see his brother holding on. There aren't any rails on this ship, but he would hold on. And if need be, he would be those rails.

Richard is what you'd all a fanatic. What he's a fanatic about? Those around him, most notably his closes friends. Just as the year turned over in 2021, he himself turned 21. Richard hadn't gone to college, he was too busy with his current job trying to save up enough to go. He feared that he would never go, that he'd never reach his dream. He was afraid that he would disgrace his friends. They had all told him that he should go. Richard never liked the idea of college, though he would go for his friends. It's an odd thing, the influence friends have on us. But it's understandable. It's a primal instinct... Loyalty.
Primal Instinct, that just so happened to be the name of their little band. No, they never got big, and they certainly never got any gigs.
The closing of his twentieth year sparked both joy, and more fear in Richard. He had indeed come far since leaving home, which also meant that his friends would have, too. Would he see them again someday? Of course! But when?
Would he ever let his primal instinct take over again in a Primal Instinct song? Looking back, the nostalgia. We never realize what we have until it's gone. Since leaving, Richard had met few people. Oddly enough, one person he did meet while working as a janitor just so happened to be an English professor at a local university. They talked for some time. The professor asked him if he had gone to college, Richard said no. Then the man asked him if he planned, to which Richard said yes. The man thought for some time.
Eventually, once the man was done thinking, he told Richard that college would be hard. It would be long. But it would be worth it, and the was no shame in waiting. He told Richard that he had waited until 27 to go to school and get a degree. This was the last time Richard saw the man. Not that Richard was avoiding him, he just never saw him again.
Up came 2022. By now Richard was sure that he wouldn't see his old buddies again. Even if he did, what would he say... People change with time. But again he got a pang of nostalgia. He wanted more than ever to see home.
~~
Richard walked down the narrow path that led to his parents house. He'd stop bye and say hello, maybe stay there for a few days. He'd managed to get almost a week off from work, somehow.
Richard stopped at the front door. It was nearly nine fifty in the after noon. Would anyone even be awake? Only one way to find out... He knocked three times.
He heard footsteps approaching the door. The knob turned, and there stood his younger sister, Alissa. She was only seventeen. Average height, slim. She had dark brown hair, like their mother. It was short cut, which Richard wasn't used to. When he still lived here, she always kept it long. She was staring at him, like a deer in headlights. He broke the silence.
"Alissa!" he said, reaching in to hug her, "How you been?"
"I... You.. Didn't call first?"
"I wanted it to be a surprise," he said, which was an obvious lie to himself. He hadn't even known he was going home when he got on the bus.
"Oh, well come in!" said Alissa, "Must be freezing out there!"
"Just a little nippy, nothing I can't handle,"
~~
Alissa shut the door, then went upstairs. She was probably going to tell their parents that he was home. Waiting, Richard took in the sights. Their families history was framed on the living room walls, all the way from the 1800's. They weren't a prestigious family, but they could trace they lineage easy enough. Richard looked more like his father now, more than when he had left. He was tall, slim like his sister, but had a head of messy dark blonde hair.
Richards father came down the stairs. "Your mothers sleeping. She has work tomorrow."
"I'll say hello in the morning, then,"
"Bet your tired,"
"A little,"
"Well, we can catch up in the morning," said his father, "Your room is still here, but it may be cramped,"
"That's fine,"
Richard walked into his old room, which was now being used to store boxes of stuff. It looked like they had planned on moving, but never got around to it. He moved towards his old bed, moved a three boxes that were on it, and went down. He woke up almost instantly, it was the next day.
~~
He went down stairs into the kitchen. His mother, father and sister were there. He knew that he had smelt pancakes and sausage on his way down. He saw an untouched plate on the table, which was presumably for him.
Before he sat down, he hugged his mother. His father wasn't much of a hug-ible person. No teddy bear there. He sat down and started eating. It was great.
"so," said his mother, "What brings you home?"
"I have a week off," he said in between getting food, "Figured I'd stop by,"
"Well, you're welcome anytime," said his father
"Thanks... Sorry for not calling first," he scratched the back of his neck.
"It's fine, we didn't have a whole lot planned this week," said his mother, "Well, I have to go, love you. See you in the afternoon!" she walked out.
"Yup, got some stuff to do," said his father.
"And it's a Wednesday," said his sister.
He was now alone in the house.
~~
He wondered how his friends were doing.

Richard spent a little time alone. He finally decided, after two hours of thinking, that he would go see if his old friends were still around. Richard opened the door, and stepped outside. He could smell rain coming, felt it, even. He didn't even know where to start looking. That was if his old friends still lived around here.
Not knowing where to go, Richard just started walking. He took in all the fall colors. The leaves were all turning red, and he loved it. To any passer by this would look like a leisurely stroll, which perhaps it was.
It began to rain. Richard had no umbrella, but that was fine. It wasn't raining hard, and he loved the rain. He loved everything here, it was home. He wanted nothing more than to stay.
By the time Richard got to his friend Jacob's house, which was quite a distance away from his parent's, it had stopped raining. The sun was shining temporarily through the grey clouds. The was a slight breeze now, but it wasn't cold. God he loved this place. Small town USA, only it wan't that small. This was the place he would die if he could help it.
Richard knocked on the door. The house was the same as he remembered it. Jacob, of course, may have moved... But that didn't mean his parents had.
A short man with a receding hairline answered the door. He was instantly amazed. "Richard! So good to see you!" This was Jacob's father. Richard shook his hand and asked how he was doing.
"Fine, fine... You?"
"I'm doing good,"
"I suppose you're probably looking for Jacob," began Jacobs father, "He's working right now, but he'll get out soon,"
"You're welcome to stay here and wait, it's supposed to rain again today,"
"Thanks, I heard it was supposed to be pretty intense today,"
"Yeah, tornado warning South of us, heading South,"
"Lucky break,"
"Heh, yeah," chuckled the man, "Remember that storm when you and Jacob were ten?"
"Sure do," and he meant it. If Jacob hadn't been there, he could have died. A tree nearly fell on him, but at the very last moment Jacob managed to grab him by the belt.
The only thing left to do now was wait. And that's exactly what Richard did... That and talk to Jacobs father.
"You're older now, an adult," Said Jacobs father, "Just call me Jimmy,"

Richard sat up. "I'm gonna wait outside," he said
"Alright," said Jimmy, getting up to g o into the kitchen, "When you see him, tell him that dinner's at eight tonight,"
Richard smiled, "Okay,"
"Feel free to stay," He started, "We're having burritos,"

TBC

Richard sat outside waiting for Jacob for what seemed to be hours. He knew that only a few minutes had really passed, but the wait was excruciating. He'd have to go back to work soon, he didn't want to spend his time off waiting.
But finally, Jacob came. At first, Jacob took little notice of Richard. As Jacob passed the second step, he stopped dead in his tracks.
"Richard?"
"The one and only,"
"Oh please, I've met hundreds of Richards,"
"Really?" asked Richard
Jacob sighed, "No, I'm lying,"
"Thought you might have been,"
Jacob sat down next to Richard. "Did you already go inside, or are you just lurking?"
"I went in, your dad said burritos,"
"Nice, I love a good burrito,"
"Your dad makes the best," said Richard, with a faint smile
They sat in silence for some time. The silence was finally broken when Jacob stood up, and went to the door. "You coming?"
Richard went inside with Jacob.

The door creaked open, and the two men walked inside. Jimmy was just now putting some ground beef into a pan for the burritos. It was already smelling good. Richard remembered staying the night at Jacob's house. Jacobs father, Jimmy, loved to make his own seasonings and sauces... And they were always good. On one particular night, Jimmy had made very spicy chili. He had forgotten to tell the kids how spicy it was, and when they both took in their first spoonfuls they turned as red as tomatoes. It was spicy, but very good. It was made better by the fact that it was winter.
"Hey dad, you have a nice day?"
"Yup, same old boring adult stuff,"
"Heh, well, tell me about,"
"Not a whole lot to tell," he said, "I told you it was boring adult stuff,"
"So nothing at all happened today?"
"There was a car crash down the road,"
"Really? That's not boring,"
"It gets old, son, it gets old," Jimmy stopped to stir some sauce that was quite obviously laced with all sorts of spices, "How was your day?"
"It was okay, getting better now that Richard's here,"
"I know what you mean, it's been what? Two years since we last saw you?"
"Uhh..." Richard scratched the back of his head, "About one and a half, more about. Definitely just less than two, tops,"
"Well, we can all catch up when we eat," Jimmy waved them away, this is when Jimmy would usually add something extremely spicy to his sauce. Probably some crazy GMJ, or genetically modified jalapeno.
Richard and Jacob sat on the couch, not really watching anything particular on tv- this side of the county didn't get great reception on anything, even radio transmissions were a little off. They still got them, just not at full strength.
"So Richard, you going to school yet?" asked Jacob
"No," sighed Richard, "To be completely honest, I'm scared,"
"Why?" asked Jacob, "You're, like, the smartest guy I've ever known... Aside from grandpa," Jacobs grandfather had been a nuclear technician, and for some god awful reason, decided to move out into the small city of nowheresville.

“I just couldn’t, too much stress,”
Jacob sighed, lowly… Mostly to himself.
“Why does it matter?” Richard asked, “We’re all young, it’s not like we don’t have time to spend AWAY from college,”
“Guess you’re right,” said Jacob, “I just always thought you’d hit it head on, you know,”
“Things don’t happen according to plan all that often, sorry,”
“It’s fine, we can’t make you do something you don’t want to,”
Jimmy got done making his special sauce burritos, and they all dug in. Richard thought it would be another chili incident, but it was quite mild. They all ate two burritos, and only once was it mentioned that it wasn’t that spicy.
“Doctor said I had to cut down on spicy food for a while,” said Jimmy, “At first, I thought I would just ignore the advice… But I didn’t want something to happen,”
Something to happen, that’s just about as vague as Jimmy could make it… and for good reason. A year prior to graduating high school, Jacob’s mother had been in a car accident. She didn’t die in the accident, though, she broke her neck. She died at the hospital. This was, and is, a touchy subject with Jacob and Jimmy; neither wanted to talk about it, but it was clear that they both reflected a lot on that day.

"So, boys, how did you like the burritos?" asked Jimmy
"They were good," said Richard
"Could have had more meat in them," replied Jacob
"That's your fault, not mine," said Jimmy
Jacob switched the tv channel, which up until that point had been on a game show. Jacob switched it to a new episode of some science show.
"You know, it's still light out," said Jimmy, "Anyone up for a walk? I haven't stretched my legs in a while,"
"Plus..." started Jacob, "You still haven't got us caught up,"
"I know, and sure,"
Jacob turned the tv off, and they all got up. Jimmy got three water bottles from under a chair in the kitchen. It didn't look like many were left there. "I hope you got some extra juicy stories for us,"
It's now important that I tell you that Jimmy is young. He and his late wife had Jacob while in their early twenties, so Jimmy was in his late thirties/early forties.
They arrived at the trail in just a few minutes. The trail was actually just a park trail just down the road from where Jacob and Jimmy lived. It wasn't very long, either.
"So how are you guys doing?" asked Richard
"Pretty good, but it could be better," responded Jimmy
"Yeah, life isn't too bad right now," said Jacob, "But Lily moved, which just leave you, me, Francis and Marcus,"
"Jeez... what about Marty?"
"Marty?" asked Jacob
"Tall, fuzzy-ish hair, liked suits," said Richard
"Oh, Marty, yeah,"
"Well?"
"He moved too, for work,"
"That sucks,"
Throughout the conversation they had been walking, and were now relatively close to a bench. Jimmy sat down with a sigh, "Getting older, never younger," he smiled, "Nothing like old youth, right?"

“Were not that old yet… and neither are you!” said Jacob
“Say what you will, but that doctor visit really summed it up for me,” said Jimmy, “”My guts are failing me, and it’s only a matter of time before I get dementia,”
“I doubt that, you’ve got at least another forty years,” interjected Richard
Jimmy got up, and they resumed their walk. The park was very still. Not many people still used it, and few animals called it home. Sure, there were birds and the such you’d expect, but no major fauna. The last time Richard had seen a deer, it was back when he was working. It went up to a trash can, and ate some trash. He never thought he’d see a deer go raccoon, but there it happened.
“Hey Richard?” started Jimmy, “You ever think that the working class will revolt?”
“Depends, if every place is like here… Maybe,”
“Not a whole lot of work for the working class here, or any other for that matter,” said Jacob
“When do you go back to work?”
“In a few days, we’ve got time,”
Or, Richard a least hoped so. So many people had left to find work elsewhere...

Richard woke up at 2 am. He vaguely remembered going to a bar with Jacob. Jimmy hadn’t gone along, he didn’t drink very often. Richard looked around.
It took him some time to realise that he was at his parents house. He felt fine, other than having a throbbing head. It wasn’t a hangover, he knew that. He stumbled out of bed, and made his way over to a bathroom. He peered into the mirror. His hair was frazzled, that was normal, but he could see flecks of red. Dark red. Dried blood. Did he hit his head?
Richard pulled back his hair, revealing a small gash. It wasn’t serious, something he probably just didn’t notice while intoxicated.
Richard rubbed his chin. He’d have to shave soon, unless he wanted a beard. It wasn’t a bad idea, he’d always liked the idea of a long beard. He gave a little smile.

Richard had just laid down on his bed… What had once been his bed. He didn’t live in this place anymore. Not long term anyways. He’d managed to get some days off of work to visit family.
Richard sighed, he didn’t fancy the idea of going back to that old routine.
“I have four days,” he said, “Four days until I’m back in the trenches,”
His sister had just walked passed his temporary room with a load of laundry. She looked so much like their mother, it was becoming startling.
“What was that, Richard?” she asked
“Oh, nothing,”
She’d stopped in his doorway. She was looking at him. Richard was amazed just how awake she was. It was a Thursday, at nearly four fifteen in the morning.
“Hey, uh,”
“Yes?”
Richard sighed again, “Don’t grow up too fast,”
“Okay…”
“Really, adult life kinda sucks when it starts, make a buffer,”
His sister left, and now Richard was alone again. What kind of advice was that! He immediately regretted opening his mouth.
“Four days,” he said, “F for four,”
“F for fun,” but what kind of fun? What did his subconscious have planned for this weekend?

Richard got up. Perhaps he got up too fast, as his vision got fuzzy. The fuzziness didn’t go away for about twenty seconds, and when it had Richard found that his nose had started bleeding. What had he done last night? He’d have to ask Jacob, and he would. He’d decided that he’d ask as soon as he could. Richard went to the bathroom shortly after discovering the bloody nose, cleaning up the mess. In truth, this wasn’t the first time something like this had happened. His father had once explained it to be dusty or dry air, but he didn’t remember going into any old houses. Whatever may have caused this, Richard didn’t really care.
It was still pretty early, and Richard wanted to make the most out of the days he had. Today he’d try to spend more time with his actual family, not the adopted family that was his friend Jacob- and Jacob’s father, Jimmy.

To the left and right men stood at the ready. There were hundreds packing the trenches, all wearing the same uniform. Troops from many countries, many parts of the world. They stood at the ready for the monsters that would soon flood the field. Many would be killed by the mines laid down in no mans land, but some would make it to the trench.
A dark figure in the distance. Alex could see it well, a man like mass of shadow. It watched for some time, then retreated.
Alex leaned to the man next to him, "Scout?"
"You think they're capable?"
"Well," Alex started, "We are in a war with them,"
"Shut up and get ready, more are coming from the forest,"
Alex squinted, they were much further off now. More figures like the first, all massing into one large group.
"They're forming a spear head!" said the man next to Alex

The creatures charged. Many were taken by the mines, but the spearhead gave them an advantage. While a great deal had died in the initial swarm, none behind perished due to the lack of mines. Two trenches back the order to open fire was given. Hundreds of rifles and machine-guns ripped the air in the first few seconds. The first row was out of ammo, the second opened fire, then the third. It was like endless thunder, Alex could feel the waves of ammunition in his guts. The firing stopped, but the bullet thunder stuck in Alex's head for many more moments.
The wave of creatures had be beaten... More were coming from the forest. Once again, the order to fire was given.

At night the war drums beat, and during day death walks among the living. By now the trenches had been given up, this was now a guerrilla war. Two weeks had passed since the initial wave, Alex was surprised that they had lasted even this long. Albeit the current situation was rather grim, and only five men sat around the last fire, they had hope in their hearts. At least, Alex did, and he had plenty of heart to share. The others obsessed at how this was the end, but Alex knew better... Alex knew that while some story may be coming to a close, a new story was beginning. This new story would be his epic.

A last pale light drew over before the darkness. A great thick fog, then night came. Night to day, the endless coughing, until one day it ceased. Joshua drew in a deep breath, the fog was gone. Once again, he could see, but he wished he couldn't at what he next saw.
His comrades lay limp on the ground, choked out by the enemies biological weapon. Their skin was turned dark, and was rotting. The smell... It was its own. Nowhere on the planet would you ever expect to find, or find, such a smell. Thousands of rotting bodies. Such mass murder, so wide spread. How could this happen.
Joshua knew that it wasn't just the enemies, though. His side had used the same weapon that same day. The day the sky turned black.
Something on the horizon. Something large. Something with a gun. Joshua got down, and readied his rifle. He, and every soldier, had been given the order to fight to the last man. No retreating. Joshua scoped his surroundings, finding his target. It was a man, another soldier. An enemy.
Joshua got ready to take his shot... then fired.
*Click* No ammo
Joshua put in a fresh magazine, the aimed again. Before he could get a good aim a bullet whizzed above him. His enemy had spotted him. Joshua got lower, trying to avoid any future incidents. A crackle from behind, the whistle of a bullet.

One of his fallen comrades, just another face, ahead of him. Hand clutching a gun. A large MG, something that didn't care if you missed, didn't care if you aimed. Joshua dived forward, prying the gun from the dead mans grasp. Another crackle, his left shoulder on fire, just grazed... Maybe not. Blood seeping through his uniform. Joshua pushed himself back against the trench wall, his own dead mans grasp on the newly acquired weapon.
Joshua sprung upwards, spraying lead hell into no mans land. A scream, a cry. Joshua gave a faint laugh. He didn't like this, no, it was a laugh of relief. Still he knew the enemy lived, though, so he did what he had to do.
Joshua climbed the trench barrier, un-holstering his sidearm. He walked to the enemy trench, he heard very little. It hadn't occurred to him until then that the song birds had gone. Not even crows dared enter this place of death.
Joshua came upon the enemy trench barrier, he jumped down. He met his adversary face to face. He was young, like Joshua.
This young man, saw Joshua's gun. He looked up at Joshua, then chuckled. He was going to face his death laughing, he was getting his last laugh. Joshua leveled the gun to the mans head. He couldn't do it.
It was one thing to kill the enemy that want to kill you, and however this little conflict had started, this man... Why couldn't he do it. Joshua threw his gun, there had been enough death for that year.

The young man looked up again at the sound of Joshua throwing the gun. "Nǐ bù huì qù?"
"Wèishéme?", spoke the man, "Wǒmen bùshì dírén ma? Wǒmen túrán jiān de péngyǒu!"
Joshua didn't understand. He looked at the man, not speaking.
He saw that the man had been shot... Joshua had shot him... In the chest. It was remarkable that he could still speak. Perhaps it hadn't hit anything, maybe it had gone right through. Joshua hope so. He looked around and only saw death. To add to it... Joshua could never.

Joshua held out his hand. The man didn't seem to understand just what Joshua wanted. Just before Joshua could pull his hand back, the man grabbed hold. Joshua helped him up. The man was holding his side. "Don't worry, I can fix it,", said Joshua, "I was trained to be a field medic before our weapons made medics obsolete".

There wasn't another soul for miles. This is not to say there were any past those miles, this was completely unknown to both of the unlikely comrades. Joshua was under strict orders to wait for reinforcements if he was to ever find himself as a sole survivor, though Joshua doubted any would come. It could take years for the biological weapons to dissipate, and Joshua was quite certain that they had been used extensively.
Joshua wasn't going to wait for reinforcements if he wasn't sure any would come. The trenches smelled of death, and both men were wounded. By this point they had come to a silent agreement to not kill each other.

Joshua helped the other man up, only now realizing that he hadn't introduced himself. Not that it mattered, they couldn't understand each other. He tried anyways.
Joshua pointed at himself, "Joshua, Ja Shu Ah,"
The man stared at him, it appeared that Joshua was right. He didn't Understand. This is untrue, as you will later find.

They walked down the trench line, Joshua was hoping to find any sign of life. He found none. Not even plants would grow.

Leonard woke to the sound of a klaxon. Another day on the job had just begun. It was almost ceremonial, that klaxon. He never had time to make or eat a good breakfast, such a shame. It had been like this for some time, a few years maybe? He didn't quite remember.
Leonard rushed into the loading area. He hastily put on his dark blue uniform. Nothing special, just a wind breaker really. Next he pushed on his boots, the tactical kind that went past the ankles. He finished by strapping on his helmet. He was ready to ride.
Leonard climbed onto his hover-bike, a massive beast. It was a dull grey from extensive use. They usually came in a shiny metallic color, but that was just paint. They lost that shine after seeing duty.
"You ready, Len?" asked his partner in training. His name was Jefferson- his surname of course, he hadn't been there long enough to call other by their first names, so the others showed the same respect. Jefferson would be training under Leonard for the next five weeks, then he'd probably be transferred to West. Regardless of that, Jefferson was Leonard's responsibility
"Ready, you?"
"Yup, let's go get 'um,"

Leonard unplugged the power cable from the side of his bike, as did Jefferson. The beasts gave low growls before spurring up to full vertical throttle.
"Keely, open garage door five," said Leonard to Keely, the communications officer and house technician.
"Got it, Leonard,"

They sailed the open dawn air like ghost ships. Like knights of old, they gave faint shimmers in the moonlight. Leonard reached up one hand to adjust his headset.
"Jefferson, you got a lock on the current target location?"
"Two miles North, heading West!"
They adjusted course, quickly closing in.
Two miles
One mile
They were on top of the perp.
"Jefferson, you see him?"
"Nah, he must be bellow us some place,"
"I'm gonna drop a few yards, see if I can spot him... You stay up here,"
"Got it,"

Leonard worked his way closer to the ground level. They were in the slums section of the city. Nothing but filth here. Bunch of low life scum was what these people were, they were the reason he had this job. Never enough police on the force to cover the whole city.
A flash. A crackle from a building just a few feet from Leonard's hover-bike. It came from a window on his level. He felt a thud. Heard a wet thump as he started to descend wildly towards the ground. His hover-bike gave one last monstrous roar as it frantically tried to compensate for the failure of three vertical stabilizers, and one forward pushing jet. The bike was spinning out of control now. No use leaving his hand on the controls, wouldn't do him any good.
Leonard woke up to the sound of the klaxon. Another mornings rest lost to that awful cry for help. He felt hot, his whole body was shaking. He felt sweat forming on his face and arms. He could barely stand. His partner, Michael Jefferson, took one look at him.
"Buddy, you okay? You look like you just saw a ghost,"
"No, I. I'm fine, thanks,"
"If you say so,"

Long shadows gathered as the sun slowly crept its way down the horizon. The cold and damp air formed frost on the street lamps, long metal poles that now stood inert. Soon, when the sun would no longer cast any light, and at this moment the earth grew both darker and colder. The night was silent. No sounds but the wind and creaking trees. A stream slowed to a stop as the water froze. The wind grew still. There was no sound, no light. The earth was cold this night. On this night the stars offered no guidance, not a single one even drew its faint light.

Days of silence, shifting from light and darkness, not a single word. Not a breath of human activity. The birds have since left this barren land. Faint traces can be seen of the last fauna. But humans, humans have scorched their name into this landscape. Yet this is not their world, it is no mans world. No things but the old skeletal flora, and the soulless shells of human creation, live in this place.

Many days of windless silence pass by, never a trace of the world as it used to be but the disfigured monuments of man and nature. But the world cannot stay without sound. The breeze would suddenly pick up, tossing dust and debris, further eroding the last traces. By now the roads are but dark streaks, most now turning a dull grey from months of exposure. The once vibrant yards now dirt and gravel patches. Homes... Homes have toppled from the winds prior and current, sending yet more clouds of debris and ash and dust into the sky. The sky is perhaps the only normal sight, keeping its old blue shade with just a hint of discoloration. The sky flows black in some places from the old ash of man, still stuck in the atmosphere.

Day broke to the sound of the ice cold wind, slowly batting about loose papers. Tattered, all of them save a few. By this point in time, The Dark has been going on for well over seven months. While perhaps not clear what The Dark is, it can be plainly stated that it was a bio-chemical reaction that devoured most, if not all, life. Five months is usually considered the sweet spot for disastrous concerning abandoned facilities. Luckily, safeguards where set in place to prevent such disasters, though it's debatable whether or not these safeguards actually help. There would come a point in this day where the air would take on a more... radiant feeling. A graphite reactor just off the coast had been slowly using up its fuel during automated processes that the government had ordered into effect to help any survivors. These processes included the changing of fuel in this particular reactor. Unfortunately, the graphite moderators couldn't be changed without a complete reactor shut down, and the help of staff. The graphite moderators had slowly been failing, and now the once slowed Uranium-235 chain reaction would be slowly picking up... Until this day.

The air did not steadily pick up in temperature, in fact it barely gained any at all. There was a massive shockwave that pummeled some of the stronger, still standing buildings into oblivion, but that was the only effect that could really be felt so far away. Destructive events like this had already been happening for some time, and this could be considered the last nuclear disaster of humankind for the next long while.
Black smoke would rise from the reactor core for eighteen days, adding to the already darkening sky. If any life had been present near the reactor, it would have been subject to a massive gamma ray burst, which would have almost assuredly stripped the being of its DNA. This would have rendered the organisms sterile, then would lead to a very quick and painful death.
When The Dark first started, nobody really knew what it was. What it did to life, though, can only be compared to the gamma ray burst at the graphite reactor.

Long shadows began to spiderweb their way across the now open fields. It used to be a mall parking lot, of which only ghostly whispers and whistles of the breeze remain. The mall itself is a stripped husk. Pieces of concrete strewn about, the shopping carts rusted and battered. Such an odd thing to think that of all the places, this is where life would have its next chance. Sheltered in a bathroom stall, away from the initial onset of The Dark, a man named Christopher Richards was suffering from a sudden need to vomit. His weak stomach had saved his life. It would be a death sentence to leave that place without proper protection- a full body suit if things got very ugly. The mall would only be able to support him for so much longer, then he'd have to seek shelter elsewhere, or bring supplies to the mall. Neither were appetizing thoughts for Chris.

Chris slowly collected his thought in his journal, a regular notebook a student might use for a class. This was one of the few things that Chris could do to pass time. He had to write by lantern light, since the electricity went out weeks prior- it was a good thing he was in a mall. He may be the last person in the mall, but he wasn't always. He was working a night shift there with a a dozen or so other employees when everything started. Most decided to try to go back home, a few decided to stay. At the time, the general consensus was that everything would blow over, and everything would shortly go back to normal. However, this clearly didn't happen. As time passed, another group went out to try to go back to their homes. This left only three people still at the mall. Chris was surprised, he thought that the mall would have been looted. Perhaps there weren't any looters.

Chris's lantern light slowly started to fade. He closed his note book, and proceeded to go get more fuel. He was starting to run low. Soon... He would have to find more supplies soon. To do that, he would need protection from whatever killed all those people and plants. It was a good thing he was in a mall...

Chris gathered what he thought might be essential for the creation of his own protective suit.
A rain coat and a winter coat (for insulation inside of the rain coat) for the main chest piece. He cut up a two liter bottle to use as a face mask, putting the nozzle bottom together. They would have activated charcoal between them, and a coffee filter to keep the charcoal inside when he poked holes so he could breath. He duct taped rubber safety gloves to the rain coat sleeves. The hardest part would be the bottom section. For this, he would use many large trash bags. He opened about seven bags, and put each into the next so that they were all opened upwards. He then duct taped them all together, and cut a small hole in the bottom for his foot. He did the same for the next leg, and put two holes in for a connector piece. He then taped them both to the connector, making sure that each bag was taped to the prior bag in its layering. For his feet, he found rubber boots. He put it all on, aside from the boots. He then put his boots on, making sure that the suits leg pieces also went in, then taped it all shut. After this, he taped any areas that may let the outside in. He was now wearing his own hazmat suit.
When this was done, he gather supplies for his trip. This included:
A hiking backpack, a small plastic container of coffee, six water bottles (full), his sleeping bag, duct tape and plastic covering (to secure locations), eating utensils (which included a knife), and a jar of peanut butter. He also grabbed his lantern, the remaining fuel, some over-the-counter anti-biotics and some batteries as mostly trade fodder if he found anybody else.

The manlike figure walked slowly along the once-was pavement. Black and yellow, like some sort of giant bumble bee. Even moved like one, constantly stumbling on the rubble.
The man, Chris, would soon make an important discovery. The Dark formed gas pockets, only the gas was heavy. So heavy, in fact, that most places above the second and third stories of buildings would be relatively safe. The only problem would be access, and the horrendous erosion that had been done in the past few months.

April of 2054: A new Earth like planet was discovered. It was given the name Pakii 51b, after the star it orbited, but was renamed after the possible Earth like conditions were discovered. Pakii 51b is now referred to as Viridi Sapphirus, or green sapphire. This of course being a reference to what the atmosphere was predicted to look like. Viridi Sapphirus was a gem to the community, the thought that another world could hold life... Plans were made to send colonists, despite the outcries from some members of the community about ethics. There was a problem, though... It was over 100 light years away. Either new engine technology would need to be invented, or the colonists would have to be frozen.

November of 2057: Construction of the colony ship, Deep Freeze, was finished. As was the construction of a freighter mother-ship that would accompany it. 500,000 colonists, all cryogenically frozen.

July of 2058: It has taken many advancements, but it has been done. It has been done in nearly four years. Deep Freeze and the freighter mother-ship have been stocked and prepared. They now begin the long burn, and wait, to Viridi Sapphirus. They will use a solar gravity assist, then a Jupiter gravity assist. After that, they start a seven day burn. They'll be hurtling through the galaxy at near 2300km/s.

September of 2058: It's late at night, a man goes to his computer. He decided to watch a live feed of Viridi Sapphirus from the view of a large space telescope. Nobody had predicted what what happened next. What the man saw. Fire... A beautiful blue world gone fire orange and red. The ships wouldn't be able to slow down... They would have to deal with the problem upon arrival.

His pack was becoming heavy. He wanted so much to rest, but he knew he wouldn't be able to until he secured a room. It would have to be air tight. The easiest way to do this would be to find a room high up in a building, but even that came with a set of challenges. First, how would he get past the rubble?
He took a last look at the collection of garbage that blocked off the stairs. He could try moving it, but he would be taking the risk of ripping his suit. It was a risk he would have to take. He took hold of a chair leg, and began to pull.
The pile was impressive, but eventually, as the sun began to fade into the horizon, it was done. He found himself a nice room on the fourth floor. The walls were still intact, and the window still had its glass. He started to secure the room, a task that would be done before true nightfall.
When everything was done, and his safe house was made, he took a spot on the couch. He laid down, and fell into a world of blue skies and green acres. He might have thought that he had just woken up... woken from some awful nightmare. But then he heard ticking. Ticking of a clock. Tick tick tick, droning endlessly. He began feeling numb, and yet he felt everything in great detail. Greater so than normal. Tick tick tick, a race against time. The sky went dark, and he was seeing by lantern light.
He looked over at his bedside clock, 4:37 am. He was back in the mall.
"Chris? You don't look so good man," Said a faint image. A scrawled charcoal shadow.
"Uhhhhhh,"
"Yeah, I bet that's how you feel, right?"
"I,"
"What?"
"I think I'm gonna throw up..." He wasn't in control. His other self took hold of his minds handlebar. He shambled over to the bathroom.
Yelling. They were fighting again. A women from the night shift, Samantha, was yelling at her ex. He was trying to make moves again, probably. He was calling her all sorts of things, but the world went dark again. He felt a surge of pain in his head, like you'd get if you stand up too fast, but more. It was heavier than normal, like anvils running throughout his veins and arteries.
Gunshots. Someone had a gun?
Darkness.

Chris woke up, he had been sleeping on his arm, and it had gone limp... numb. He grabbed his notebook, turning to a new page. He began to write down what he had seen. He wrote down his memories like someone who has no control over what they remember. Except he did remember. He remembered everything in great detail, the fight, the gunshots... The bodies. The survivors fled from the mall, leaving only Chris. They left him to clean up their mess. They left him to weep and vomit as his body was torn apart emotionally and physically. And now they made him remember, why? Why now, of all times?