A dissipated road laid ahead of me that went on for miles. Cars piled up as I went on- doors open, past belongings hanging from the seats. This road was now owned by what looked like weeds sprouting from the tarmac. I could spot the occasional flower, but many hid in the shadows of overgrown grass and rubble. Bullet shells were shattered around my feet and blood had stained the ground. I couldn't work out how long it had been there for, but my assumption was it had been there a while.
Further down the road, I stopped at a signpost that quickly caught my attention. It was strapped across an abandoned truck that laid on the edge of the road, far from the others. It looked deliberate. The sign was made from an old bed sheet and pieces of rope.
It was big and overpowering- much taller than I. But nonetheless, I walked towards it.
"Termination; a community for everyone. Safety for the survivors." I read aloud. I gawked at the sign post in denial for a moment. It told me where to go, and which roads to follow. I could make it.
"A community?" I said to myself out loud. "Is this real?" I looked out into the distance ahead of me, and then turned back to the sign. "No. No, I can't. "
I was skeptical.
I went to turn the opposite direction, but stopped. My eyes caught another glance of the sign. I knew what I wanted to do.
"I know what you'd say." I said, outloud. "You'd tell me to go."
I reread the directions, tightened the straps on my backpack, and set off. Keeping my gun closer than it was before.