Fated Love- A Collection of Short Stories

As The World Caves In

Based on the song As the World Caves In by Matt Maltese.

SPOILER: SWEET ENDING!

I stare up at the blinding lights of the news on the screen, watching as everyone scrambles around me, yelling at each other, fighting amongst each other for food and supplies. The bitter taste of chaos and madness lingers in the air, making my tongue burn uncomfortably. I watched as the last of the rations vanished from the shop counter, leaving nothing but the bare beige metal of the shelf. I tried to keep to myself, clutching the dried food I had in my arms, concealing it from anyone, lest they decide to start a fight. I looked into the eyes of the people around me, seeing them burning with agitation and instability. They must have seen the same thing in me though, after all ... the world went to hell and no one could avoid it anymore.

I walked to the exit, eyes scanning around and looking for anything else that I missed. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the shine of the flickering light in my eye. Walking over, I picked up the wine bottle and looked at the condition of it. There were surprisingly no cracks and the red wine seemed to be perfectly clean. This was probably the last bottle that survived because it was hidden well under the cardboard. Either I was really lucky or I just happened to steal from someone's secret stash, but I didn't care anymore. I tried my best to hold everything, making sure that nothing could drop if I had to make a run for it, and left the torn down store.

Outside, I could see a scene from the apocalypse. Torn down buildings, dark and smoky skies, screams everywhere, and fires burning dried up corpses were littered on the street. The faint thumps of gunfire could be heard in the background, shaking me from the inside.

The sound scared me.

Though at first I was willing to hold up a gun for my loved ones, I never thought that I would have to point my gun at them the moment they were infected. Hatred directed at the flimsy government was soon directed at myself... 

directed at the blood-stained hands that killed the people who took care of me when I was a child.

Dusting the dirt off my forehead, I cleared my thoughts and rushed to the shelter where my wife was there, doing whatever she can for the injured people she found on the streets.

I was eager to see her, and watch her as she runs around helping people. I thought about how I would be there, helping her with whatever I can, comforting her when she feels like she can just give up. My wife is a brilliant person, someone as fierce as a blazing fire. Her temperament was as cool as ice and she never cried. Not when things were harsh. I knew what she was thinking when she was acting strong. I understood why she put up a strong shield and locked up any signs of weakness. I knew that she did it because of me. So when I stood at the door of the shelter listening to her quiet sobs, my heart broke. I felt like everything was truly over, like everything was really going all down to hell soon.

I paused at the door of the room, feet sore and back tired. I pushed the door open and she heard the creaks.

Looking over at me, I saw her dull eyes looking back at me without hope, then looking down I saw her on the concrete floor, holding the corpse of our son.

It didn't take me long to understand what happened. I glanced around the room, seeing all the patients in grotesque positions with a bullet in their head. From their white eyes, I could see trails of dark crimson blood, reflecting the light of the fire outside out the window. They must have fallen to the disease, just like everyone else. I looked at her holding the child hopelessly. He had brown hair like me, though he was on the skinny side, his tanned skin made him look strong. Even as he closed his eyes and had a lifeless face, I could see traces of a smile in his mouth. From signs of it, my son passed away when he was asleep, dreaming a happy dream. At least my son looked happy when he fell into the clutches of death. Though I was filled with grief and bitterness, I wondered if the place where my son went was better than the world right now.