𝗧𝗼𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗿𝗼𝘄'𝘀 𝗟𝗮𝘀𝘁 𝗕𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗵 | an apocalyptic novel ©

Chapter 36

Birthday Candle

2031

Aidan

Too fast it's June 8th and too fast, my first – real – mission is here.

My eyes scan the date on the calendar in the General's office, uncertain if it's just my imagination, while I nervously fiddle with my dog tag. I was called here to discuss further matters.

My birthday is today, but of course, no one cares, why would they?

"Alright," the General spreads out a map of a part of the Bronx on his wide desk, "this is the part we are currently tackling."

He circles an area with a red marker. "At the pace we're proceeding with, we will start a new area in two months."

I slightly lean over the map to take it in.

"Since you have Houston, you'll go on a mission to this neighborhood. Again, this is easy, if anything goes wrong, you come back," the General states. "You have permission to fire, just in case. Don't do unnecessary damage to property, don't split up if not needed. An evacuation vehicle will drop you off at the borders of the neighborhood and will also pick you and any possible survivors up again. If you encounter injured civilians, Hathway will perform first aid measures. Any questions?"

A collective "No, Sir." sounds from us three.

"Quick and easy, we go to the neighborhood, call out and check. If no one shows themselves, it's kind of their fault," Jason instructs after the evacuation vehicle drops us off at our destination.

"Okay," me and Sina say in synchrony.

Quick and easy – let's hope it'll stay this way.

The neighborhood is considerably small, consisting of only four single houses. While we move towards the fence separating the properties from each other, I keep glancing into the windows. In every single one, the curtains are closed and otherwise, the houses seem unoccupied – abandoned.

For how long already?

Houston is off his leash, we all know he is trained to stay in a radius close to us.

"Are you sure there's someone here?" I ask Jason, who is headed out in front.

"How would you if you don't check?!" he calls back, almost a tone of sarcasm swaying in his voice.

I see Houston's shape as a brown speckle in the distance. Sina whistles a sharp tone. "Houston!"

Promptly, the dog turns around and trudges back to her. Has she worked with him before?

This is absurd.

We are teenagers, sent out into the apocalypse, into the weather anomalies now proven to be contagious and a danger to every living organism, to look for possible survivors – that is, if anyone is even still alive, or hasn't been picked up by the special forces well over twenty years ago.

And we don't get paid for it.

No one does – money doesn't have a value anymore. We are doing this solely out of solidarity because it is assumed we all have a big and kind heart – although I'm not so sure about the last assumption with the guy leading us to the front door of the first house.

Instead of kicking in the door, like I expected him to, Jason knocks against the worn wood of the front door.

"Special forces!"

No noise, no movement behind the windows.

He knocks again.

We wait. For a minute. After two, Jason starts to twist the doorknob. It doesn't budge.