Unbroken

Chapter One (18 years later)

The silence is the worst part. Of course there's sound - wolves howling, wind in the trees, stuff like that. No, what I mean is the absence of human noise, the kind I'd heard my entire life until six months ago. It was strange, how everything happened. Everyone expected the world to end differently. Such as a zombie apocalypse, an alien invasion, the polar ice caps melting, disease, a bright flash of white light, and/or World War Three. Personally, I thought we were going to ruin the earth with pollution or be enslaved by a secret society of Nazis. But no. Annihilation laid in the hands of a small South American country that most people didn't know existed.

First, they bombed the world's capitals, major cities, and military bases. Then, they murdered all of the world's leaders and top politicians on live tv for all to see. The government wasn't going to save us. The army wasn't going to come running in, guns blazing and ready to defend our land.
Every part of structured society fell apart. The first to go were the rich. Money had no value anymore, and since they were used to getting whatever their hearts desired by waving around the magic credit card - yeah, they didn't so well with the whole survival thing. Those who had always had a hard life thrived; they weren't about to be pushed around any more. And for those in middle class who had enough, but not money to throw around - those people became like me. I've toughened up real quick, not letting hunger, fear, or loneliness deter my logic.

I know survival alone can't be my goal. That would strip me of my humanity. Right now, I'm focusing on finding my cousin Brian. We were separated during the prisoner rampage. Stupid, stupid, stupid. I should have made sure he'd had more than one weapon and had known the safest places to look for food. I should have had a back up plan. I'd never even considered the possibility of us getting separated. I have no clue where he is; I don't even know if he's alive or dead, and I don't have the guts to go search for him properly.

I've set up command post in the basement of a fabric store, near the last place I saw him. It's an old shop, the one place the straight jackets didn't hit. Straight jackets are the crazies that have raided and pilaged pretty much everything in sight. There are many things I could have called them, but since they destroy every scrap of supplies they can find, I decided they should be locked up for their unreasonable, irrational, confusing, counterintuitive, mentally ill behavior, hence the nickname.

Anyways, for whatever reason, they left my cozy, little store untouched. The cloth has come in handy for warmth on cold nights.

My daily routine consists of roaming what I consider my territory for hours like an animal, rifle in hand. I go a little farther each day, looking for signs of recent human activity, other than my own, aka Brian, and supplies. I always return before nightfall, where I barricade myself in the room deepest underground. Every day I've looked, but something tells me that I'm miles and miles from the nearest living person. While I'm out scavenging for essentials, I'll admit I'm in the habit of looking for spearmint gum. I'm addicted to the stuff. In a way it sounds stupid, weird, and ridiculous, but the freshness reminds me of toothpaste and since brushing my teeth is a luxury I can't afford, this is the next best thing. Believe me, even something as simple as brushing my teeth would feel like a spa treatment. My stash of gum is collected in a pile beside the nest of fabric that is serving as a pathetic excuse for a bed.

***

I creep behind walls and dart into buildings. Every sound being louder than it should be, I try and make as little noise as possible. In fact, I haven't spoken out loud in months. I don't want to be one of those people who talked to themselves. There's nothing wrong with talking to yourself, but if you start talking back there's a problem. Deciding not to risk it, I came to the conclusion that not talking would benefit my sanity.

It's getting dark, so I head back to my replacement home. Once inside, I use a candle stub to light my way. I lock the door to my room and somewhat relax. This is the only place I don't have to watch my back twenty-four/seven. If I didn't need to constantly gather supplies, then I would've holed myself up in here weeks ago and never left.

I burrow into my makeshift bed, hoping for a good night's sleep. But the ghosts of my past have other plans for me. Six months worth of memories run through my mind and flash in front of my eyes. And like every other night of the last four months of my life, I give in.