"The loneliest moment in someone's life is when they are watching their whole world fall apart, and all they can do is stare blankly."
― F. Scott Fitzgerald
My iPhone's alarm chimes for the 3rd time. I reluctantly drag myself out of a peaceful slumber and my warm bed. Strangely, my mother has yet to yell at me for not turning off my alarm. I quickly shut it off and get dressed. I stretch and yawn into the first pink rays of light. Even weirder, I hear no water sounds coming from the shower. My father is not taking his daily morning shower. Shoot. Is something going on? I shuffle into my parents' room. There is no one there. What is going on? Are they out for some emergency? I pull out my phone and call them, belatedly noticing that their phones are still on their bedside tables. I check the garage and driveway through a window. Both our cars are still there. this is getting weirder by the minute. Their shoes are there, and the burglar alarm is undisturbed. How did they leave the house? This was impossible. Why have they disappeared?
The initial shock of losing everyone has hit me. Albeit, I'm known for being calm and calculated at the most stressful times. I'll need to eat to survive, so I heat up some milk and have breakfast with oatmeal cookies. While eating I open my laptop to check emails. What I see shocks me. My desktop wallpaper has been changed. Apparently Windows has a sort of extinction-level event alert system integrated. It is displaying a short message that overnight, billions of people worldwide had disappeared survivors were to report in to their respective government via a webform. I filled out the short form and was quickly replied to from the Canadian government with a quick email saying that I should report to the nearest city within 24 hours, that martial law had been declared worldwide, though there were apparently hardly any countries with a military to enforce it. The email also mentioned that public transit was now nonexistent, so I was to drive to the city center in Toronto with whoever was still left in my neighborhood and meet in the Rogers Center, a big dome, where we would receive further instructions. A quick Google search resulted in only 400 people left in my city. There were only 6000 people confirmed alive in the greater Toronto area, though a further 400 might show up in the next day or so. Yikes.I make quick calls to everyone on my contacts list. No one picks up. This one-in-one-thousand thing is really getting to me.
I prepare to head out into a cold winter morning. I dress warmly, grab my phone and keys, and our truck's keys. I warm the truck up, and take it down my desolated street. This is so weird. As I get onto a main road, I see the carnage ensuing last night's drivers who disappeared while on the road. There were fires burning everywhere. I see one vehicle slowly rolling down the road with no driver. The usual Monday morning traffic has been replaced with quiet streets with no soul in sight. I stop by my local gas station and top up my tank to the brim. I fill up two-gallon tanks with additional gas. You never know when gas will start running out. I go into the adjacent supermarket and grab as much pre-made food as I can. Not like anyone would care. It was all going to waste anyways. I make several trips to fill up the back of my truck, and set off down the secluded highway heading downtown.
Even though the highway has burning and crushed vehicles strewn along the shoulders, traffic is non-existent until I near downtown Toronto. The usual morning rush-hour traffic has been replaced with an eerie silence. I finally witnessed firsthand the isolation and desolation of a world with a drastically reduced human population. I pass by a driver erratically swerving all over the place. Looks like there were still certain idiots left in the world. I pass an inconsolable mother, heaving wracking sobs on the side of the road, her babies presumably gone. As I near the Rogers Center, I start to see more traffic. Downtown Toronto shocks me, with the lack of people and burning wrecks of cars along the sides of the highway. What has become of my world? I set the hands-free in-car phone system to call every number it can find in my phone. Time and time again, I get this message: "The voicemail service you have customer you are calling is not available at this time. If you reach the customer at a later date, get them to enable their voicemail, and initialize their mailbox. Thank you." Damn, why do none of my friends have voicemail?
As I near the Rogers Center, I see several tanks and soldiers in the streets, working alongside the local and provincial police, trying to maintain order. There weren't many soldiers left. I stop and roll my window down, and ask one of them a question. She's from Sault Ste. Marie, and she was stationed at CFB Trenton. They'd woken up at 3 in the morning with only 10 of them left on the whole base, out of an original 10,000 troops on active and reserve duty on the base. I am directed to park my truck in the tunnels under the stadium and pick up a placard with the name of my city on it. It turns out that I am the only one from my city there. I go over to the big screen and label where my city's surviving population should go. I am told that there will be a series of instructions and speeches given by the surviving members of the provincial and municipal government, and that it would be broadcasted live to similar congregations in Hamilton, London, Kingston and Ottawa. I ask about the existence of the national government, and am told that there was none in Ottawa. Each province would have to deal with their own government and people. I pick a little area just off of third base, and start munching on some beef jerky I'd picked up from the supermarket. I sigh. It's going to be a long day.
I am joined by several others from Markham, in time for a free lunch. The one good thing about the sudden decrease of the population. There is enough to eat for everyone. Even one homeless guy that I met was able to have breakfast - as much as he wanted - just like everyone else, which I'd missed. There is and will be an abundance of food - for now - as we'd have to get more farmers and cooks in the near future. We have a choice of roast beef or steamed veggies for lunch. I finally notice - for the first time in my life - the amount of vegetarians there were. They all looked very healthy too. I think I might join them someday. "How'd'you like the beef?" I ask a fellow carnivore. He nodded, giving his seal of approval. I looked at him again. He looks very familiar. He's definitely from my city - no, my street. He's one of those neighbours that I'd never really spoken to. Wow, I guess the one-in-a-thousand chance extended to everyone, even neighbours. I'll take a nap now, and hopefully hear some stories of others' experiences.
I just woke up. I guess I was tired from the stress from the lack of interaction with my family and friends. For all I knew, my relatives and close friends were probably all gone. For some reason, people are now flocking into the stadium in droves. Those who have just entered are simply given a sandwich for a late lunch. I'm met with a huge surprise. Eric is alive. I'm shocked. I see him come through the big grey tunnel that leads from the underground parking to the field. The one that players normally come through. He is one face in an ocean of people, yet I am drawn to him. I run over and embrace him. A tiny sliver of hope returns to me as the initial shock of seeing him wears off. Perhaps more of my friends and maybe even family will turn out to be fine.
"Why didn't you pick up your phone this morning?"
"You always call from a private number, and my phone automatically blocks that," he replies.
Ugh. Stupid phone companies. Overcharging and randomly blocking numbers. I mean, I did forget to turn on my Caller-ID. My fault, again. Why must I be the only one in my family to still exist? Why did God choose me to live?
The 4 levels of underground parking underneath the stadium are now all full, even though the stadium was only at less than half capacity. The one thing that the government could not provide us was enough parking for everyone still left. The Rogers Center might be huge, but the parking definitely could not fit the whole of the GTA. Everyone that worked in news had formed together as a new megacorporation, GTANews. Although megacorporation was ironic because there were only half-a-dozen of them, running around interviewing different people and trying to inform the rest of the country and the rest of the world of our situation. I gave an interview, and shortly after made international headlines as the youngest person alive. Wow. I've gone from nobody to one of the most famous people in the world.
YOU ARE READING
30 Days After HumanityAdventure
99.9% of Humans have suddenly and mysteriously disappeared throughout the world. I am one of those fortunate to still exist. This is my story. This is my adventure.