Echoes of a Dying World: (An EMP, Post-Apocalyptic, Survival Story)

PROLOGUE

I stand tall and proud. Unflinching, even as the cold stare of a dozen gun barrels turn my blood to ice, and send shivers dancing down my spine. I see nothing but shadows beyond the searchlight's blinding beam, but I know they are out there—can feel the eyes of the men who carry them boring into me, their bloodlust so peaked I can all but taste it carried on the night air. My heart thumps hard inside my chest. Bile fills my throat. My mind is a whirlwind of memories and last minute thoughts: every dream I've harbored, and sacrifice I've made since the world fell apart, flashing past in an instant.

How did it come to this?

An early autumn wind sweeps across my sweat soaked brow, as a shadow unfurls from the darkness and steps into the light. Eyes, dark and pitiless stare back at me. A voice made of smoke and half-truths issues from a leering mouth, trying to coax me into submission. But I will not bend. I will not bow. I'd rather die on my feet than live a life on my knees among the shadows. After all, there are fates worse than death. I've learned that harsh truth first hand these past few months.

The tension thickens with each passing second, its smothering embrace pressing in as the shadows grow restless. I feel my end is near. After everything I have been through—the trials and hardships, the battles fought and lessons learned—it all boils down to this moment. Breathe in. Breathe out. Show not an ounce of fear. Outside I remain calm. Steadfast. Inside I quake with anger, with fear, with resentment at all I have yet to do.

The moment breaks as twin cracks of thunder sound into the night. The world turns dark around me. And suddenly none of it matters anymore, every thought I had vanishing from my mind as if it had never existed at all.