Have you ever driven alone on the highway at age 13? Cars on fire, turned over, crashed, or all three? It's scary to know your alone. It's hard to know that your mom will never tuck you in again, or that your dad will never pick you up and spin you around again. Or that your little brother will never come into your room again saying that he had a bad dream. Or that you will never finish middle school. That your best friend will never point out your crush ever again. Never go out a see a movie with your friends. It's scary. There is a lot of crying in my life. Screaming. Punching. Cursing at the world, knowing no one will ever hear me. That's how it feels to be the last person in America. Maybe even the world. They took us out. The population was getting out of control so they released a much worse version of the flu. You threw up your insides until there was nothing left. Then, you went crazy. There was no cure. They lock you up for 1 week, then you die. They evacuated Origen so they could burn all the bodies there. There is a wall around there now, and I'm glad for it. My mother go it first. The day she did, my dad brought home a cell for the basement so we didn't have to admit her to that awful prison. Dad put their bed down and had Tommy move in with me so he could sleep in Tommy's room. The disease was doing exactly what the government wanted, until they all got it. They killed themselves before it over came them. One day, I walked downstairs to give mom her dinner, and she was sitting in the corner, rocking herself. She turned around. "Sam, I want you to do exactly what I tell you." I got scared now. I knew this disease. The people with it always were their normal selfs before they went crazy. I had heard stories. Awful stories. "Go get your fathers gun." I was crying now. "Mommy," I cried," I'm not going to shoot you! I won't, I can't!" I clasped. I started shaking. "Sam. It's either this or watching me go crazy. I can't trust myself to not hurt you. I need you to do this." She slipped a envelope through the bars. She had tears in her eyes now. "Read this. There is one in there for all of you. Letters from me. Please Sam. I want you to do this. You have to be strong. Strong from me. Strong for Tommy. Strong for your father. Strong Sam. Strong." I went a got the gun. Then I want down stairs to see my mother. Her mouth was foaming. She came up to the bars and screamed at me. Scratched at me. Spit at me. I could see her eyes pleading for me to pull the trigger. So I picked up the gun, and pulled the trigger. My father came rushing down. He saw me. "What have you done Samantha?!" My mother pulled herself up, blood dripping from her side. "Exactly want I told her to do." She smiled at my father. "She helped us all. Thank her." Then mother died. I was about to hand my father the envelope when he opened the cell, carried my mother out, wrapped her in a blanket, and told me to go get my brother. So I did. And we buried mom in the back yard. My dad had a hole already dug. Then, after we said some words. He want down stairs, cleaned up the cell, and locked himself in. I heard the cell door shut, yet he didn't come back up. I ran down stairs, to see him sitting on the bed. The was a new mass of black on the floor. He held the gun in his hands. "Go dig my hole next to your mothers Samantha. Please. Take care of Thomas. Take care of yourself. Your immune Sammy. Your special. Your a miracle." I ran upstairs, tears in my eyes, quickly dug the hole, then went back inside to find Tommy standing in the doorway to the basement. He was crying. "I heard it Sam. Daddy had been sick for a while. I saw it in him. He did it Sam. I heard it. So I got some new sheets. I don't want to get him Sam. Please Sam. Don't make me get him." I took the sheets from him and kissed him. "I will never leave you Tommy. Never." Then, I walked downstairs, wrapped my dad, and put him in a wagon to take him up. I knew I could carry him. I trudged upstairs. Wheeled him into the yard, and rolled him in the huge hole. Tommy and I buried him, then we went inside and scrubbed everything. We locked up the house. Dad had stocked up on food. We were ok. We buried dad with the letter mom had written him and we read our own. I made sure the cell was clean. The words that my father had said to me were still in my head. "Your immune Sam. Your special. Your a miracle." Thats when I realized what he was saying. I would live, Tommy won't. Then, I heard him. "Sam! Sam! Help me!" I ran into the bathroom. My naive little brother was sitting over the toilet, throwing up black masses. A tear slid down my face. Then, I woke up.
