Furzombie - a gay furry zombie apocalypse

The Rising Sun - Joshua

It was daylight outside, and the world felt eerily subdued compared to the chaos of last night. The quietness was unnerving, broken only by the distant crackle of fires still burning in the city. Smoke billowed endlessly on the horizon, a grim testament to the destruction that had unfolded while I tried to sleep. The whole city had been engulfed in chaos, and even now, it seemed far from over.

I had slept in my clothes, fully expecting the need to make a quick escape during the night. It wasn't a comfortable sleep, but it was the kind of rest I'd have to get used to. Survival wasn't about luxury. As I began to push the wardrobe away from the bedroom door, I paused, ears straining to pick up any sound from the corridor. The silence was deafening, the kind that made your heart pound harder just to fill the void.

Cautiously, I stood there for a moment longer, waiting for a creak of a floorboard or the shuffle of movement. But the hallways remained silent, their emptiness both a relief and a source of unease.

From the living room window, I could see the remnants of last night's chaos. Destroyed cars cluttered the streets below, their twisted frames interspersed with discarded personal belongings—bags, clothing, children's toys, and other fragments of lives that had been ripped apart. The scene was surreal, like looking at a dystopian movie set, except this was real.

My phone sat on the coffee table where I'd left it, its screen dark but still holding onto a faint glimmer of life. I picked it up, staring at the 25% battery icon as if willing it to charge itself. No service, no updates, nothing. Just silence on every front. I scrolled through my messages, rereading the ones I'd sent to Mike and my mum the night before.

Neither of them had read the messages. Had they even been sent? Or were they sitting in some digital limbo, never to reach their intended recipients? I stared at the screen a moment longer before sighing and turning it off. Saving the battery was pointless, but it gave me the illusion of control.

With nothing else to do, I decided to take a shower. Who knew how long the water would last? The thought of washing away the grime of fear and sweat was appealing, a small attempt to cling to normalcy.

But when I turned the tap, nothing came out.

My heart sank, a dull weight settling in my chest. For a moment, I stood there, staring at the showerhead as though I could will it to work. Then I glanced over at the bath. Relief mixed with frustration as I saw the tub, still full of cold water from last night. At least I had that. But the prospect of using an old plastic bottle to pour water over myself in some makeshift bathing ritual felt disheartening.

Still, this was my new reality.

I splashed the water over myself, shivering as the chill bit into my skin. It wasn't perfect, but it was enough to feel slightly refreshed. I should have filled the sinks too, I realized. Every drop of water mattered now.

Dressing quickly, I pulled on a loose-fitting red t-shirt and some black joggers—simple, comfortable, and practical if I needed to run. I wasn't planning on going anywhere, but I'd learned that plans didn't mean much anymore.

Breakfast was straightforward. I poured the last of my cereal into a bowl and finished it off with what remained of the milk. The milk was already starting to feel questionably warm, but it was fine for now. Corn flakes weren't exactly exciting, but I liked them well enough.

Sitting at the table, staring out at the surreal destruction below, I felt detached, as though I was watching someone else's life unfold. Eating breakfast while the world burned felt wrong, but what else was I supposed to do?

"Well," I muttered to myself, forcing a weak smile, "I'm definitely not going to work today."

With no electricity, no internet, and no distractions, the waiting game quickly turned into an endurance trial. By lunchtime, I was already going stir-crazy. I'd never realized how much my life revolved around power until it was gone. No TV. No games. No way to connect with the outside world. Just silence and my own thoughts.