The Sea of Death

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Deafening cries of people, guns shooting, bombs exploding, cars crashing and glasses breaking permeate the air, creating a wild crescendo. Though they are far out, a dull concerto in the background.

It's a typical commotion that doesn't affect the breathing creatures. Much more the corpses piling up at the sides of streets, lawns. It's only a matter of time now when they will be of use. Flies, roddents and worms feast on them.  Death is everywhere.

I glance over my shoulder, checking if there are savages. Humans have returned to being wild creatures. But this, this is worse than before.

A few years ago, people started being sick. It was the effect of the thousands of plastics in our blood. Microplastics have been ingested too many times and for too long.

Marine life slowly dwindled because there's too much plastic in the ocean. Fishes and other marine life were dead before we could even treat ourselves.

First, it was the lakes and rivers that were targetted. It only took a few days to realize it's also contaminated. Others excavated, bombed soils to dug out fresh water and start a new sea. It lasted for months. There were no more water creatures that weren't contaminated to be put there. Next, trees toppling down, land and air animals gone—hunted to their extinction, and then there's nothing else.

Nobody saves anything anymore—every single food will be taken, no matter what the cost.

I walk briskly, dragging my sore feet toward a shop. It's probably been run days before.

My stomach growls but I fight the dizziness and nausea. I still have to walk three miles south to feed another starving mouth. It's been a few days since we last ate. Mother died yesterday, and I still need to bury her.

A crash booms. I notice a car skidding toward me. I hurl myself away, hitting my side on a sharp jag of rock. I stifle a groan as I careen my neck, eyeing the screeching car. It doesn't seem to have a driver but the noise of the horn tells me otherwise.

To my horror, the car crashes at the shop I'm supposed to hunt. My heart pounds loudly as I approach the van. I recognize the vehicle immediately. It has the mark of Kill Waste, Save the World. Hope bursts from my chest as I sprint toward it.

As I open the door, a KWSW driver and a savage girl are dead. Inside are spoils, water and perishables.

Later, I speed toward south, my hands full. I have to hurry, other savages scatter at night, assaulting those who have food.

As I reach our cave, I open the flashlight and shine it where I think my brother is. As I see him, all the things I'm holding noisily falls on my feet. My eyes sting with tears, my legs and hands tremble.

"Gaia, I was hungry," Okeanós' hollow eyes are begging, mouth bloody. At his lap, our mother's rotting corpse.

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