"Well, shit" I mutter to no one but myself and the half decomposed body laying about two feet in front of me. It's been 142 days since the ocean decided that America needed a bath. The oceans and hurled up on lands throwing tsunamis and hurricanes over every coast. To bad I was on the plane and missed all of the action. I was in Kansas visiting a long lost friend, James. And after spending about two weeks in Kansas i decided it was time to hop on a plane back home to my condo in Seattle . But when i got back there was no home to come back to.
Not a single soul was expecting the storms. The storms were horrendous but they left as soon as they came. Taking everything in their path. You don't see many people anymore. Not that I have I problem with that, I've always preferred solitude. From what the radios told us, before they crapped out, the storms took millions of lives. The worse part is that more people died after the storm then during the storm. They gave up. And yea of course I've thought about it but, I refuse to be a sissy boy and just give up.
Now back to the dead guy in front of me. He has a nice hunting shotgun cradled in his arms. But he also is covered in maggots and grubs. I wonder if I ever met this guy before the storms. We are about six or so blocks from where my apartment used to stand. so maybe I might of met him but the animals and bugs mauled his face beyond reconization.
I reach down and start to pull up on the in prying it from his arms kicking away the bugs with my worn and dirty combat boots. I finally free the gun and hold the barrel with two fingers keeping a distance between the gun and my body. Then my alarm goes off. I quickly use my free hand to turn my watches alarm off glancing around to make sure I didn't stir anything.
When I first landed the first things I was looking for was food and an almanac. I keep track of everything. Especially the date. I like to be semi organized even if the world is shit I like to have my shit together. I set my watch every morning to go off twenty minuets before sunset to give me time to get back to my makeshift home before it gets dark. It's dangerous to be out in the dark. People used to know what dark was by turning out the lights. It isn't the same. You don't have any lights at all. Most of the wood is too wet to try and light a fire and all the power grids have been fried. So I'm not lying when I say you couldn't see your hand if it was right in front of your face.
I man up and take full hold on the shot gun and make my way twards "home". Home used to be a decent condo. Not too bad but, I'm still a college student so it wasn't the Ritz either. Now home is an old rusted small garage that I've found locks and baracades protect my privacy. I sleep in a car without wheels. Not too comfey but, I'm not dead. Yet.
