The Collapse

Forget

So there I was, dusty, cut up, sweaty as hell in the summer sun, but alive. I packed everything back into the suit case that I had taken out when I took stock. I was done crying, the agony of loss still hurt on the inside. It felt like I was being crushed and torn apart at the same time. But I was not going to be broken by this, I told my self out loud "I will not die" I said to myself out loud. Because the pain felt so real I needed to reassure myself I wouldn't. I would go on because I had to. It looked like finally, after all these years, the government had broken. Why else would there be no one helping here? Looking for survivors, or even trying to rebuild? There where no news cameras rolling, no Fox, no CNN, no press of any kind. A sudden realization came to me. I would not be able to survive if I focused on everything I had lost, In order for me to go on, I'd have to forget. Forget the old world. Learn this new one, find out how to adapt to it, and to master it. I took a deep breath. "I need to get out of here" I thought. Then I seemingly obvious thought came to mind, the car my mom had drove us here in. I started jogging to the parking lot, salty sweat ran down my forehead and blinded my right eye with a sting, I ran with one eye closed. When I reached the parking lot I saw that, some, but not all of the cars had been hit. Clearly the parking lot was not the target. I saw my moms car, it was a small, fuel efficient vehicle. That had been basically a requirement, the war drove the price of oil so high that owning her minivan had become impractical. I had driven it once for a dare, but that didn't matter, just another memory I had to forget, except for leaning to drive of course. As I approached the car, I saw that it's windows had been shattered, most likely by the shockwaves from the bombs. It was by no means in the best condition, the shatters glass covered its interior, and a chunk of brick had made a massive dent on its hood. I opened the door and brushed the glass off the seat. The keys where still in the car, my mom hadn't been planing on getting it back anyway. I checked my fuel, I still had half a tank left, and that was a lot of distance in this car. I put my bag in the seat next to me and started the car. The engine seemed to work fine, coming alive with a hum. I reached into the glove compartment and got the map my mom kept in there. It had city's, airports, and general landmarks. As I looked at the map, I decided the best place to go was Washington DC. "If there is any government at all" I thought "it would be there" I drove out of the parking lot and got on the nearest rode towards DC. I had only recently learned to drive, and because of how expensive gas was, I hadn't gotten much practice. But there seemed to be nearly no cars driving. I saw a car on the side of the road, a man was standing in the road with his hands waving in the air. I slowed to a stop, and rolled down the window. "My car ran out of petrol" he said with a thick British accent. "Where are you coming from?" I said nervously as he approached my car. "DC, I had to get out of there." He said sullenly. "What's wrong with the Capitol?" I asked. The man shook his head "the bombs destroyed the White House, then the riots started" he choked a little with a sob. "They...they stole everything that wasn't tied down, then burnt what was left." I put my head in my hands "well, there goes that idea" I thought. I felt a cold pice of metal touch my head, I looked up and saw it was a small pistol, a mini revolver. "Sorry chap" said the man "need the fuel, food and water too If you have any" I kept still. My heart was pounding in my chest. "Easy friend" I said. "Shut up and get out of the car" he grumbled. I slowly opened the car door. I undid the seat belt keeping my eyes down, as soon as I was done he pulled me out by my hair and through me to the ground. "Bloody hell kid, why are you so dusty?!" He said . "I was redecorating the attic" I said sarcastically. "Hm" he said "funny" he pulled a rope from around his waist and tied my hands behind my back. He went back to his tuck to get some kind of pump, and started siphoning fuel out of my car. He had a pack of matches in this back pocket, along with cigarettes. He pulled out two cigarettes, lit them both and began to smoke them both as he used the pump. I was laying on my stomach with my hands tied, the heat of the pavement burnt my cheek. The man chuckled "you now lad, before all this, smoking like this would have seemed like a death sentence. Now, cancer is the least of my worries" the bucket he was pumping the fuel into was halfway full. I rolled onto my back, and pulled up with my core to sit up strait. The man turned to look at me, he kept the revolver in his hand. "Remember who has the gun, don't do anything foolish." I nodded, saying nothing. He turned back around and continued pumping, when he finished, he went back the the truck, got another bucket, and started pumping fuel into that one. I felt the pocket knife in my back pocket, and pulled it out. Because it was behind me, even if he turned he wouldn't see it. I clumsy pulled the knife out and began slowly sawing back and forth across the rope. By the time I felt the rope snap, he was starting his fourth bucket. I kept my hands behind my back as if they were still tied. I thought up a plan. First, I would sneak up in him, then I'd snatch the gun from his hand, after that Id put the fuel back into my car and drive off, to where I wasn't sure. I slowly rose to my feet. He was still hunched over pumping, I moved slowly and quietly as I could. My heart was pounding so loud I was scared he could hear it. When I was just a little bit behind him I grabbed the gun with both hands, he jumped up in surprise but kept his grip on the gun. We wrestled for the small fire arm, yanking and grunting. He let go with one hand and punched me in the side of the head so hard it made my ears ring. I pushed the gun up and he pulled the trigger, the crack went off like a massive tree snapping. That gun sure was loud for its size! I kneed him inbetween his legs, but he moved so I only hit his thigh. We stumbled around, desperately fighting for control of the gun. He stepped in one of the buckets of gas and got it all over his shorts and leg. I tackled him while he was distracted and we fell to the ground. As we fell, the gun flew out of our hands and into the grass on the side of the road. I punched him in the face and felt a sicking crunch that was most likely his nose breaking, followed by his short cry of pain. We had knocked down all of the buckets now and he where both soaked in gas. We scrambled to our feet, I pushed him with all my strength and he fell to the ground. He picked up a a rock and started to charge at me. I reached onto the hood of my car and grasped a pice of shattered glass and held it like a knife. He slammed into me screaming, and smashed me into the hood of my car so hard I felt it dent under me. I stabed his back hard, cutting my own hand in the process. A pice of the glass broke off and stuck inside his back, I pushed him off me and grabbed the matched from his back pocket. He threw the rock at me and it hit me in the shoulder, my whole arm exploded in pain, I grit my teeth and lit a match, holding it away from myself. "FUCK YOU" I yelled and tossed it at him, it didn't hit him, not even close, but it did land in the gas puddle he was standing in. He screamed as fire engulfed his entire body, his gas soaked clothes made it burn even harder. I wanted to look away, but I couldn't, like watching a car crash. His flesh melted off his face as he fell down wailing and cursing and crying as the fire burned. My car had caught fire too, I ran and dived behind the mans broken down car. If movies had taught me anything, it's that burning cars explode. I waited with my head down for a long time. The screams had stopped, but the car kept on burning. No explosion though. Maybe it needed all its fuel for that. I walked around the car to the grass on the other side of the road, and picked up the revolver. "Well" I said out laud looking at the burning car. "Shit."