September Third //G.D

One

September 3rd.

It's been more or less 11 months now since we were wiped out. Funny how there used to be a plural amount of people present on the face of Earth and now I'm 100% sure it has been reduced to a single person.

I will admit, when I pictured the end of the world, I had a massive nuclear holocaust wiping us off the face of the Earth in mind, not a virus that wiped out 14,411,956,240 people. Thanks to the virus there was no radiation soaked land and everything was not blown up and covered in pink mist.

When I was tested, once I was released, I was tagged. My tag was green and read: "plague free". My two mothers, my brother and the rest of my family were immediately tagged to quarantine. I still remember the day we arrived at testing I was holding Benjo's hand as they injected him with the reactant fluid. His veins lit up from under his arms. It was like when our moms used to place glow sticks in our bath tub so we would get in and stay in the tub. I would be lying if I said I wasn't completely mesmerised by the way Benjo's arm was glowing, but then reality punched me right in the face. Benjo was in the late stages of the virus, he was a risk because once the virus is done killing you from the inside out, it escapes what it has left of you and moves to a healthier and unexposed body which was essentially everyone in the room. He was torn from me immediately. He was screaming, kicking, crying, biting, anything that would get his tiny feet back to the ground so he could run with his little legs and hug me just one last time. I remember before they sedated me, they injected Benjo with some sort of needle. Probably a lethal injection since he was a child and his immune system was completely gone at this point. Leaving him in quarantine would only make things worst, but looking back at it 13 months ago when he was diagnosed, we were running short on supplies and keeping him alive would force them to waste supplies on a dead boy walking.

My moms told me before they were finished by the virus to flee. There were safe houses that were getting wiped out by the plague so I moved into my basement for five to six months. I had a decent amount of canned food, that I had managed to ration out and ended up walking out of that rat hole with some extras. When I first got out I remember crying, crying because there were no machines humming and the house wasn't creaking and silently responding to my gentle thoughts at night. It was as if not only did humans die, but everything they built died along with them. Once I got over myself I packed up everything I could. I went to gas stations and grabbed food and filled tanks with gas, I went to the hospital and scavenged for supplies, then the worst part. I went back to the camp. Let It be known that several months ago this camp is where I watched Grayson Dolan, the hottest boy in school, play football every Wednesday night, and now I'm here to collect what is left of my family's bodies and put them into a car and drive out to Minnesota and bury my 6-year-old brother and my two lesbian mothers. It took a lot of courage and vomiting for me to get them into something I could transport them in. So I ended up burning the bodies and I grabbed my mom's favourite blueberry vegan sauce container and put them in there.

The drive to Minnesota was upsetting. I found my nana's house and dug a hole I spread their ashes, and in that moment I truly knew there was no God. My mothers always told me "if you believe in something bigger than yourself, you will always have enough strength to fight no matter what this plague does to you, whether it's God, a Buddha or even your cat, as long as you have faith you can fight everything coming your way".

She told me this before the plague wiped us all out and I found my self burying her in my nana's back yard.

If God was so miraculous and so real, why didn't he save us and help us? Why didn't he spare the innocent? My mother had faith in him, and all he did was watch her die and watch me rot in a basement for five months, five fucking months. So as the last person on Earth, alongside the human race, I will be wiping out false hope.

Minnesota wasn't really my place. My mothers were buried there and I did not need another depressing moment to dwell on every night before I close my eyes, so I stole someone's van and packed up and I toured, determined to find at least one person alive.

And this is how my adventure began.

A/N LMAOOOOOO THIS IS SO BAD I APOLOGIZE.