Stories

Apocalypse

How does it feel? Feel to be the only one left. Terrible. We all have died. Don't know how many other survivors there are. I just wished they would find me. The whole human race. Extinct from the beginning. This... This plague. It has destroyed us all. It all started with the panic. That dreaded panic. Everyone was in fear as the bombs dropped. They all hid. Slowly killed each other as the plague spread. By the next day no one was in the streets. Almost as if everyone had vanished. I roamed the streets searching for others. The road desolate and burnt from the panic. Every house I went in to was abandoned. Covered in blood but with no bodies. It was so scary feeling like the last person left. The third day, scarred in my mind for eternity, was when it all went terribly wrong. In the distance you could see spaceships being sent up, guided by the Iron Fist. They just left us here to die. But even worse than that was that from the bomb sites came the mutations. Everything from the past 2 days that was infected ran to these sites, infecting anything that it touched. This virus killed so many. But it didn't just kill them, it controlled them. As these mutations of what used to be human ran through the streets, I hid in the closet building. I had lost hope that I would be saved. The next day I snuck out of the city, avoiding contact with the mutated creatures. One touch would infect you and kill you for good. For a whole month I went through the wilderness. Through the forests and deserts. Anywhere where there would be no population. Anywhere where the infection wouldn't spread. Sometimes I would find survivors, but they would slowly turn. The whole world had lost it. People would turn on each other over such little things. Food and water was scarce, but I managed with what I rationed myself each day. As each day passed over the next year I grew lonelier and more scared. I started talking to myself and I couldn't get any sleep. Other survivors there was none. I went through overrun towns and collected what I could. I talked to mannequins and corpses. They were my only company, my only friends. The world was slowly decaying around me, this virus was killing everything. Nothing could survive, it was only a matter of time before it killed me too. Until that one day. That fantastic day. Stumbled upon a settlement. There was actual people. Actual living, breathing people. I could touch their faces. Feel their presence. It was amazing. After all this loneliness I felt alive. So so alive. They started packing their things into a space ship. One of the abandoned ones they shut down before this apocalypse. It was fuelled up. And ready to be sent to create a new utopia. Most of the people were highly educated, and everyone helped create the equipment for the utopia. As soon as all the preparation was set we slept. Ready for the advance to the utopia. Or so we thought, but in the night could hear gun shots. Muffled but still existent. The people who were intelligent went around the camp and killed off each of us, one by one. I hid under the bed. As they passed and shot my room mates. Sometimes one of them would wake up and cry for mercy before being shot, having their limp body thud to the ground. As soon as the intelligents passed I snuck out into the ship and hid in the cargo hold. They started the countdown to launch. I could hear the screams of the ones that didn't make it. They banged on the only door to let them in. I couldn't save them. I had to survive. A horde came in from all sides as the ship launched. No one else survived. This ship. It flew so far up in space. The windows showed the outside. The outside of our dying world. Slowly burning up. Slowly dying out. Two days passed. I was keeping alive with all of the stored food. Rationing myself, because that is how I lived the last couple of years. But in the end of the second night, they had found me. They kicked me as I slept and took me in at gun point, We were nearing the moon, the new utopia. The leader looked down on me. Shunned me. But accepted me. He liked my survival skills. He would let me live. God bless him. We arrived on the moon. And sent down the pods from orbit. The newest colonies. Slowly we created a new utopia. Created our new home. We built a city and created our own economy. We created gravity wells to keep our human bodies functioning. We had created so much. We were able to live our lives again. But... But I hated it... All of this. All so that we could survive. It was all so different from my old home. Newer technology. A different lifestyle. Not the stuff of dreams, the stuff of nightmares. Years passed and I could still hear the screams of the ones we left behind. Not knowing how much longer I could survive. We mined the moon and created harvests. Our utopia flourished. We bred and multiplied. But I felt guilty. Guilty as what I had done, everything I have done, has failed everyone. So that one day, I decided, I wasn't needed anymore. I was expendable. I walked out of the oxygen field without a mask. I could feel the pressure of the outside world felt different. My body started freezing. I felt tired. My saliva started to boil. I gave my life away. I started to burn due to the sun. And then. I died...