Genesis: The Beginning

Start

|Ready?|
|Hit it.|
|*Someone presses the record button|
|Start from the beginning.|
|I was in my momma's womb, a little eggy|
|Ms John...|
|Sorry. Where do I start?|
|Your namesake hon. Tell us who ya are.|
|I can do that.|
|*Inhale|
|*Exhale|

My name is Genesis. I am an ex-militant. Specifically a Captain. I have three sons, Exodus. An adorable 3-year-old, when this started at least, who's gonna be the death of me. And a pair of twins, Levi and Deuteronomy, I gave birth to them during the apocalypse.  Uh, I'm... what year is this?

'2069, honey. We're in the middle of July.'

32. I was 26 when this started... Oh wow, it's been what, 6 years... Good grief.

|The Apocalypse |

I never thought it would come to this.

War.

Devastation.

Starvation.

Fear.

It's almost as if I'm watching a movie from afar off, seeing it all unfold in mere minutes. Each new part of the Apocalypse flipping by. We call each chapter Surges.

Surge I.
It starts with a fever, then progresses to wild coughing and rapidly changing temperatures.

No one really knew what was happening. Just thought it was a new illness. No one was dying. The fever just lasted really long. A month or two at most. Then the next day, the fever would up and disappear and you'd feel as good as new. Stronger even.

People thought that it was a good thing. Who wouldn't? You get sick, and then come out faster and better than before. Sure, it was strange but people were fine with it. Nothing bad was going on.

But as people say, things that seem too good to be true, are probably not true.

Five months later, all those who'd taken sick by this strange, unknown virus changed. There was no warning. I doubt they themselves even had a passing thought about the change. They turned sick again, and in two days time, they were coughing up their lungs and everything else inside them. Their bones stretched, distorting, teeth growing and sharpening, eyes turning milky. The transformation takes mere seconds to take place. And then they are on you.

Tearing away at flesh and bones, snapping human twigs and crushing skulls between elongated fingers. They ambled down the streets, turning on their own children, wives, husbands. Mothers, fathers, uncles, aunts...

No one is spared.

No one really knows what made these people change. Who ever does? They're still roaming around, six years later. They mate, breed, fill up the streets with more tiny little monsters that are just as ruthless. Lots of people died.

Everyone calls them Changelings. I call them Stickers because they are always found stuck to some random surface, clinging from the ceilings, walls, upside down on trees. They also like to stick their limbs into situations that don't concern them. Gets into the way of things. Troublesome.

Surge H.

The Hazari came down from oddly shaped contraptions. They are blue creatures with no arms, lean, smooth faced and sharpened winged. Long thick tails that thin near the end with a scorpion's barb to top it off like a cherry on a sundae. Their chests open up like worm holes, sharp teeth rimming their convulsing throats. Red jewels circle their human-like heads, acting as eyes.

They crawl on all fours, the claws on the tips of their wings acting as hands and arms. Humongous creatures as big as a double decker bus when they're crouched low, wings twice as wide, their bodies thrice as big.