Grips

Chapter 1- Survive

      My name is Christina Anderson. I'm thirteen years old and have had a great life, but it was on a Sunday, in 2017, when my world fell apart and I lost everything I cared about.

***

       I had never given much thought to how the world would end- because I never needed to- but I never imagined it would happen this quickly.

***

     I was stretched out lazily on my couch, eating popcorn, and watching the newest episode of my favorite series when the channel suddenly changed. "Hey!" I exclaimed to no one as I sat up, "that was the most important part!" I sighed, plopped down on the couch, and tried changing the channel again.

      It wouldn't go back. "Ugh, stupid remote," I muttered. I was about to turn off the TV when something caught my eye. In red letters, the word "ATTACK" was plastered across the screen. Two news reporters starting talking frantically about the attack that the United States had ordered on Syria.

      "59 missiles launched on Syria, Russia's protégé," I heard. Who cares about that? That happened like three weeks ago. I rolled my eyes and turned off the TV as I placed a long strand of my long ash brown hair behind my ear. I, then, took out my phone to check the time. It was 7:32 pm. My little sister should be back by now. I took my phone and called her. No answer. "She's probably just having fun," I reasoned.

      My little sister's name was Catalina. She was eight, almost nine- as she never ceased to remind me- and adorable. Cat had long beautiful chestnut hair and thin lips. She also had bright chocolate eyes that could pierce right through you, and she was as kind and funny as anyone you ever knew. I never could stay mad at her for long with those pleading eyes she had... Speaking of which, she still owed me a new computer. I laughed. She was so innocent- she wouldn't hurt a fly. I think my record for being mad at her never exceeded thirty seconds.

     My stomach growled. I made myself a sandwich and a small salad. If Cat and my mom weren't back by now, they had probably eaten already, so I had no reason to wait.

       After eating, I went to the bathroom. I stopped in front of the mirror. I stared at my reflection into my intense hazel eyes. Well, I certainly wasn't ugly but I wasn't Miss America either. I had fair skin and long ash brown hair that fell slightly lower than my shoulders. My face was heart shaped, and I had thin eyebrows along with thick lips. I was taller than most people my age with a height of 5'10 and due to the amount of exercising I did, I was rather skinny too.

       I, for one, looked nothing like my sister, who took after my mother. I looked like my father, or at least that's what I was told. My father died when I was at a young age. My mother never talked about him, and I never asked her to. She had never fully gotten over him. I did wish I had a father, but for the most part, I had gotten over it. It was my life and I couldn't change it... Plus, I was happy with the way things were. With just me, Catalina, and my mom: Julia, living under the same household.

       I dozed off to my few memories of my father. The only thing I remembered was the day he left to fight for the army. I was only six and was too young to understand. Catalina wasn't over two at the time. I remembered as my father picked me up and told me he loved me. It was the only memory I had left of him.

      After that, our lives slowly came back to normal. But every night, I saw my mother praying. Mom never prayed. Every few months, we got letters from my father, but he never had the time to come home. Everything was fine, until a year later, we got a phone call.

       My mother had smiled at me and picked up the phone... After that phone call, she had never been quite the same. But she was fine now, as long as you didn't bring the subject up.

      I put my hair in a high ponytail and came back to the living room. I decided to go outside for some fresh air.

       Once I had stepped on the terrace, I smiled. I never got tired of this view. This city which I called home: Boston, Massachusetts, in Back Bay to be exact. This city had always given me a sense of comfort and beauty... What I did not know was that it would only be one of the many things that would soon be ripped away from existence.

***

      I woke up with a yawn as I stretched my sore muscles and let out a groan from the rewarding noise.  I sat up straight and squinted. Why is it so bright? When my eyes finally adjusted, I came to the realization that I had fallen asleep last night. Last thing I knew, I had watched a movie after having my small diner. I groaned, my mom was going to kill me.

     Speaking of which, where is she? I thought.

      I ran my fingers through my tangled hair. "Ma..." I groaned. When I heard no answer, I repeated a little more loudly, "Mom!" No answer. They weren't back by now? That was weird. "Where's my phone?" I muttered to myself as I looked for it with lidded eyes.

      It was right next to me. The time read 7:30am. No unread messages or missing phone calls. Something was off. My mom always called when she didn't come home. She barely did it, much less said nothing about it.

      What if something happened? No I'm just being paranoid, I reasoned. "Go take a shower and stop fretting," I told myself.

       I did as I said and when I was done, I changed and ate a satisfying breakfast. I was still half asleep when I heard it. An earsplitting sound. It brought me to my senses, and I almost fell out of my chair.

       What was that?

       It sounded like an explosion. A really big explosion. Oh for God's sake, I'm just being paranoid. I've been watching too many action movies. But still, I had this feeling... something wasn't right.

       As I walked to the window, I was suddenly afraid of what I would face.

       The things I saw would be forever engraved in my mind. Pure panic was everywhere. The sky was a cloud of black smoke and on the streets, there were people running and crying in despair. Oh my God. My breathing starting dangerously rising. I started to feel panicky and breathless. I don't know how long I stood there, but one single thought broke me out of my trance.

       Catalina. My mom. Oh my god. What if something happened to them? I trembled and started to feel light-headed. I forced myself to calm down and briskly reached for my phone to call my sister. No answer. I called my mom. No answer. I sat down in the couch, face in my hands, and tried stopping them from shaking.

      The T.V turned on. It quickly caught my attention. The screen showed the words "ATTACK" like it had the previous night.

     A news reporter said, "The center of Boston, Massachusetts was just attacked. So far, Los Angeles, California; Houston, Texas; Philadelphia, Pennsylvania; Phoenix, Arizona; Denver, Colorado; Miami, Florida; Boston, Massachusetts; and many other of the United States' greatest cities are down. Washington DC and New York City have not yet been attacked but many believe it is the next on the list."

      "Panic is spreading throughout the country. The president has not been sighted, and some believe this is his doing though most of our sources say that North Korea and Russia are the ones behind this. Last night, troops started marching in the United States with what we believe is a single order: massacre everyone you see."

My face went white with fear.

       "The troops marched in the west coast starting yesterday at 8:00 pm. Now, the government is telling everyone to evacuate, keep far from any major cities that are left, and hide. There has been ships seen on the east coast, and there are suspicions of more troops coming in from the east."

      I had heard enough. Right now, I only had to worry about one thing. My only mission: Survive