Aftermath: Nothing Left

Prologue: Gone

A grey sky looms overhead as I walk down the shattered sidewalk, threatening me with rain. The neighborhood where I once lived has been completely reclaimed by nature. Before what I have dubbed "The Reckoning" it was a bit of an upper class area; the greenest grass in the city, duplexes and humble houses lined the street. Their palettes were fairly pale, but the designs were beautiful. The typical HOA deal. As it stands now, every building has been busted up, abandoned, and overgrown with thick vines and weeds, what my ex-neighbors would call "disturbing" lawns. It was either that, or the entire structure completely crumbled into nothing. I definitely prefer the former. Getting back to the place I now call "home" is all I want at this moment.

Once I arrive at my destination, the reason I came all the way out here, I see the wreckage and my eyes well up with tears. My heart sinks whilst I slowly make my way into the ruins of my old house, trying to remember what it used to look like. It was a mid sized house. One of few singular, owned homes that you could find on Brightheart Drive, and easily the largest among them. I remember that bright white exterior that we would repaint every summer. That isn't the case now, however, with its new ash grey coating. My memory drifts to the lush flower garden we had in the front yard solely to show off, all the labor wasted as it now lay dead. The front door is missing, as well as most of the railing that used to be on the porch. Stepping inside, my head floods with painful memories. This is where my life as I knew it had ended, right on that couch. After wiping my eyes dry of tears, I make my way up the stairs to my old bedroom only to see nearly everything I own sitting there, dusty and beginning to rot. There's a hole in the floor and bricks scattered around caused by the chimney falling I presumed, due to the initial shock wave of the blast. I hear the bones of the house groan in discomfort, most of the structural integrity lost over time. Eager to leave this depressing place I grab a few pictures that are still at least mostly intact as mementos. I then search for any clothes that might still fit and some of my old knickknacks to keep myself entertained. I used to be a huge puzzle geek, if you saw me without a Rubik's cube at any point you could have assumed it's the end of the world. How ironic. I then search for anything else useful I can stuff into my old black backpack and I  quickly leave. Luckily I had gotten outside before witnessing the second floor inevitably collapse, which brings the roof down with it. Then, a large crack of thunder booms off in the distance. The sky cries with me as I sprint back toward the bunker I was left alone in, what I hesitantly call my new "home".

The journey back to my safehouse is a long one, and I'm beginning to regret the decision I made to come all this way. Ten miles here, and ten back to safety. Was it worth taking the 20 mile journey just for clothes, memories and a metric fuckload of depression? Depends on who you ask, but if you ask me I'd tell you that it isn't even worth stepping outside your door anymore. Life isn't what it used to be, that's for sure. The trickiest part of my journey is crossing the Sunset River. Fastest flowing water in the whole state, and the only part that's safe to cross in this area is a fallen tree which lay trapped against a rock. Any other bridges have been wiped out long ago. Luckily enough, the river isn't too wide so it's a somewhat short trip to cross over the log. Although being battered by the rapidly flowing water has made the bark peel away and the wood start to decay. The spray of mist from the river and the rainfall from above has made the top of the log quite slippery so to lower my chances of falling I decide to just crawl over on my hands and knees. Once I'm near the other side I proceed to stand up so I can hop over the roots. Big mistake. As soon as my front foot leaves the trunk, my back foot follows in a way I would not have preferred. I lose balance and fly off the side of the log, landing with my arm pinned up against a rock beneath my chest. There's a firm snap as I land and I yell out in pain, rolling onto my side to see my forearm has gained a new joint where one should most definitely not be. I just stare, wide-eyed, at what could easily be my demise if I don't do something about it before shaking myself sane and scooting away from the shore to a safe distance. Then I whip my backpack off and dig into one of the pockets for a roll of bandages that I picked up, breaking off two firm sticks from the tree and creating a makeshift splint for my arm. I then realize that something isn't right, why is it still bent? A thought crosses my mind and my face goes pale. I didn't set the bone. With a grimace on my face I brace, grab near my wrist and twist, setting the bones in the right position. An awful yell gets let out of my mouth as I correct my injury. Thankfully I only needed to do it once. I wrap my arm up in the splint and using the bandana around my neck I manage to make a temporary sling for myself, tying it and sighing in relief before suddenly my eyes roll up and I fall back, unconscious.

After I awake, I see the bright sun in all its orange glory beginning to set over the horizon. I blink and shake myself, wincing a little as my arm reminds me what had happened not but moments earlier, or so I thought until I realized that it was about noon when I fell. I was unconscious for almost six hours. "Shit!" I exclaim as I get up as quick as I can, shaking my head to give my brain a jump-start. After picking up my bag I start booking it, I figure I'm less than an hour from my hideout so if I run I can make it before dark. You do not want to be caught outside at night. Not only does it get frigid cold, but "they" start to come out. I don't really know what "they" are and I would rather not find out. All that I do know is that they are not friendly, and they are very big. The closest I've ever gotten was being chased down the road, and I never want to witness that again. The sun finally dips beyond the horizon as I get back to my bunker and by then I am completely winded, panting and huffing as I come to the sewer grate. I look around just to be sure nobody is watching, before I then lift the heavy metal impromptu trapdoor and descend the ladder. I make sure to close it as quietly as I possibly can, but it really doesn't matter because something that heavy is going to make noise no matter how careful you might be. Turning around after getting down off the ladder, I just sigh and stare at the large steel door in front of me. It reminds me of a bulkhead like you might see in a submarine, with the wheel that you need to turn in order to unlatch the lock. I grab onto it and twist with all my might, I'm barely able to get it open due to being down a hand, but nonetheless I do manage to push the door open with some help from my good shoulder. I step inside and turn around after dropping my backpack, proceeding to attempt to shut the door. I do end up getting it closed and sealed again, letting out a long winded sigh as I press my head against the door. That's when I feel the barrel of a gun against the back of my head.