The Night that never Ends

An Auburn Introduction

Chirp...Chirp...Chirp...

The alarm blared, and my eyelids opened. Instinctively I shot up training the sight of my rifle on the wooden door. My breathing hastened, my finger grazing over the trigger,

Except there was nothing there, it was just me in my room, having an attack of some sort. I breathe in relief and set the rifle next to my pillow, and looked at the alarm clock, it read 6:30 A.M. Time for morning patrol. A single backpack was right next to the door, packed with supplies consisting of food, water, ammunition, and of course, repellent. These days...you could never be sure when you'll be attacked, being prepared is top priority.

The windows in my room were tinted. I could see out, but no potential threats could peer in. It created a sense of security; helped me sleep better at night. Frost appeared over the edges of the window frame, telling me it was cold outside. I didn't argue; why would I? Dangerous times are not to be questioned or taken lightly.

My green hoodie slung over the knob of the door, where I had left it the previous night. Not thinking twice, I snatched the article of clothing and wore it over my survival garb. Simple jeans with knee padding, a thick under armor shirt with insulation. Finally, I sprayed myself with said repellent to make myself appear and smell, "terrible"

My hand grasped the knob, it was ice cold,

...CREAK...

The silence was broken by the door creaking open, it was a horrendous, uncomfortable sound. But the peaceful bliss had found its way back. My room was at the end of a hallway built with wooden boards and plastered on sheet metal. It also produces an aroma able to be sensed by human-kind, but repels any unwanted visitors. I walked down the long stretch of hallway, my breath could be seen each time I exhaled.

Some doors were closed to keep in heat, others were open all the way. The first one I passed had a simple bed with a dresser, but no one inside. The other open door had someone asleep under the silk covers. The next room had Kayla Earnhart, a friend I could depend on, a friend I could trust. She was sitting on the floor with a flashlight tucked between her shoulder and the left side of her face; she was writing in her journal. At the end of the hallway was our arms and ammunition locker. It packed rifles, grenades, crossbows, other high-tech weaponry, and repellent. There is never such a thing as to prepared.

The next area of our shelter was a simple room, two couches, one chair, a single t.v with a radio built in, and one window on the side; tinted, just like all the rest. A soft gray hat was resting on the arm of one of the couches, I took it and it went over my ears and covered part of my forehead.

The next room I entered was the kitchen, a simple refrigerator and microwave with one small table were the components, and I walked past all of them to the small side door. The door made now creaking sound when I opened it, if it did, the sharp wind would've sounded it out. The cold hit me like a freight train, the wind felt like stinging needles against my cheeks. It was an extremely undesirable condition. A huge forest was adjacent to our shelter; it was extremely dangerous. So many things that could kill us dwelled in the thickets.

I walked towards someone sitting in front of a fire they had specially made for themselves, they had no chair to sit on, just a random stump. That person was none other than Ryan Flanagan, he found the shelter when we were in a time of crisis. He always seemed like the one to take charge. His eyes never moved from the flames, except when I showed up next to him,

He looked up at me with a plain face, his amber eyes stared up at mine. He was tired, he was annoyed...he was scared...,

"Morning patrol." I tell him and look at the fire, it was nice and warm, the antitheses to the cold,