Darkstar ✧

SAM IV

April 5, 2037

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You may have noticed that I sound awfully bitter. Please try to forgive me—I have some hard feelings about aliens wiping out almost everyone on my planet. And sometimes sarcasm is my only method of coping.

So, yeah, that happened. I watched my sister die. Tough shit to go through, especially at a young age. The world was changing around me before my very eyes.

I first noticed the changes in the atmosphere shortly after the house fire. My father and I were walking downtown to find some form of shelter when I noticed a blanket of haze over the city. It was a bit like a thick fog that, collaborating with the darkness of the night, made it nearly impossible to see. The thin layer of ash that would soon cover everything, from roads to buildings, began to form, starting with tiny particles.

"Father, what is Darkstar?" I asked.

"I don't know, kiddo," he said, staring straight ahead. "Perhaps you were right, and they are aliens. Or maybe it's just a giant satellite. Nobody really knows."

"Are we going to die?"

"Not if I have anything to say about it," he said, gritting his teeth.

At last, we found an emergency shelter packed to near maximum capacity. When I walked through the doors, I quickly noticed how much it reminded me of the Greendale Elementary School cafeteria, with large windows, white concrete walls, and tiled linoleum floors. There was a slight distasteful musk in the air, adding to the atmosphere in the room.

The floor was covered in bodies of all kinds; short and tall, overweight and underfed. There were some little kids as well, younger than even Keira was, crying or holding their knees, their eyes hollow and cold. Many of them were alone.

My father walked up to a volunteer who was busy attending to people and handing out lukewarm coffee, and I heard him say, "Sorry to interrupt, but my son and I would like a sheet?" She handed him two thin sheets from a basket, and we laid them down on a mat on the ground. The mats were wedged up against each other, tightly packed side to side, and after getting my sheet on, I wrapped my coat around me, put my arm under my head, and did my best to fall asleep.

At 10:00, the doors were boarded shut to keep out looters and other dangerous people, but I wasn't convinced it would help. We boarded the doors securely, and they still set fire to my house and killed my little sister. How would some planks of wood ever be able keep them out?

I tried not to notice the virtually endless coughing around me, and the overweight man beside me that was snoring loudly. About halfway through the night there was a rough thrashing noise, the coughing stopped, and a horrible gurgle reverberated through the air. Then, just as sudden as it started, it died down, and an ominous silence fell over the room.

I covered my head and cried silently on the mat, scared out of my wits at what was happening. I couldn't understand it. The death, the disease, the horror. How could I? I was only 12 and still young and innocent.

There was no way I could sleep after that, even though I heard my father's breathing become more slow as he fell asleep beside me. I stayed up the rest of the night, haunted by my thoughts. In fact, I didn't sleep at all for the next few nights. There was just too much in my mind.

It was days until things seemed to quiet down a little. We ate minimal amounts of the provided canned foods and passed the time by playing card games. Of course, the second we got comfortable, things turned sideways.

It was a cold night, with moonlight shining in through the window. There was a stillness in the room and the windows rattled rhythmically in the wind. As I was lying on the thin mat, my heart in my throat, there was a series of bangings against the door, until the wood planks sprung loose and the main door burst open. A young man sauntered into the shelter, holding something dark in his hands.