It's Us Against The World

1. The Second Big Bang

Let me just be clear that this was not my fault. How could someone like me start the apocalypse? It was a pandemic, not a person. It spread like wildfire, and before I knew it, the world was at the end of its wits. I was used to living alone, honestly; I have my whole life.

But this was a new kind of alone.

This kind of alone wasn't comforting. This type of alone crept into your sheets at night. It made your neck hairs stand on end and put a bad taste in your mouth. It left a sickening feeling in your gut, and your palms sticky with sweat. For months, I made my way through life with wide eyes and adrenaline for blood. So, starting my day off by running from hungry zombies wasn't unnatural.

At least it started that way.

I'd finally found refuge in a rundown warehouse. Blood trickled down my forehead, and I wiped it away with the sleeve of my brown leather jacket. I rested my hands on my legs, only to find blood seeping through the dark fabric on my left thigh. The realization that I hadn't slept in five days hit me like a freight train. I slumped against the brick wall and let my eyelids droop until exhaustion took over.

Sometime later, quiet footsteps woke me. My eyes fluttered open, and deep brown eyes were the first thing I saw. "Hey, are you okay?" the stranger asked timidly.

My eyebrows knitted together in confusion. "Huh?"

"I asked if you-" his scratchy voice trailed away as he looked at my leg. "Oh my god, you're bleeding."

I glanced down at my leg and nodded. "Well, that's certainly not anyone else's blood."

The man gave me a stern look before opening his side bag. Inside, he pulled out a first aid kit and gauze. Without hesitation, he began to tend to the wounds I had. Too weak to argue, I sat there, watching him curiously.

Once he finished, he pushed away dark chocolate curls from his thin face. His eyes met mine, and he smiled nervously. "Better?"

"Much," I nodded.

"Oh, I'm Kieth, by the way," he held his hand out to me. "Kieth Roués."

I shook his hand, which was soft and comforting. I found myself smiling as I replied. "Amethyst Brooks."

Kieth's cheeks reddened as he pulled me to my feet. I smirked to see I was at least an inch taller than him. "Do you have a home base?" I asked him.

He looked at me with a raised eyebrow. "What?"

I chuckled. "What I mean to say is, do you have a place you're staying at."

Kieth nodded once again. "I'd suggest you get to it, then. There's a nasty storm rolling, and you do not want to get stuck in the rain with zombies," I twisted the black ring on my thumb.

He chuckled lightly. "Will do, Amethyst. See you around, hopefully." He trotted out of the building.

I nodded, waving. As Kieth's footsteps echoed out of earshot, I started my trek "home." By "home," I mean an apartment building farthest from the epicenter of zombies. It doesn't seem like much, but it's the best I've had for the past year.

Yes, the end of times has been going on for a year. 2020 marked a strange and unpredictable year. A virus spread across the world, and, in turn, affected everyone. This city, Chigaco, Illinois, used to blossom with people and life. Now it's quieter than a morgue buried in snow. All the better to hear a zombie coming after me, right? I mean, I could sneeze, and you'd listen to it from a mile away.

A breeze blows my purple locks into my face. I turn toward the city to see ominous clouds growling in the distance. Fear rises in my throat, and I bolt toward the dilapidated apartment building. The dirt kicks up behind me and into my socks as I run, and I pray the undead isn't around at the moment.

I jump through the shattered lobby doors before sprinting up the rusty stairs. Thunder begins to rumble overhead, and I curse the gods. I just need a few more moments, I think. Finally, I reach my apartment and slam the wooden door shut. Locking it, I slide to the floor heaving—rain splatters against the windows and my body shutters as the wind howls.

I rubbed my palms excessively against my jeans, and my stomach churned. Crawling across the dusty floor, I hide underneath the small kitchen table. I hugged my sides and rocked back and forth. A loud crack of thunder sent a yelp out of my throat and tears down my cheeks. My breath hitched, and I covered my ears. Why would the storm not leave me be?

Thunder exploded overhead, and I froze in place, my jaw clenched tighter than a vice grip. I rocked back and forth underneath the oak wood table as tears blurred my vision. I bit my lip and sobbed. I cried and cried for what seemed like forever.

I knew it was just a thunderstorm, but my brain made it seem so much worse. The rain sounded like bullets trying to penetrate the windows. The wind was screaming and wailing. The thunder was nuclear bombs dropping over my head, and all I could do was sit there and weep.

At least half an hour later, the storm receded, and I glanced out the window to see stars littering the dark sky. My heart was still beating in my ears and throat as I crawled out from underneath the table. As I stood, my insides seethed, and I stumbled toward the bathroom where I upchucked whatever meal I ate last.

Exhaustion once again dragged me to my bed, where I flopped onto the old sheets. I rolled over on my side to watch the stars dancing overhead, and I sighed. I'd love to dance in the rain like there's no tomorrow, but my fears grip me like a child on their first day of school. I pulled the duvet underneath my arm and cuddled the other pillow toward my chest. With a heavy sigh, my eyelids droop, and I drift away to a content state of what most would call a coma and what I call sleep.

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