I just wanted to point out that I have no idea how to add parenthesis into a story, and if someone could help me out with that (you'll see it in the story) then I'd love you forever.
I followed him out of my neighborhood and around to the old shopping district. It wasn’t big; a few clothing stores and maybe two restaurants. But, it was always busy.
However, now, we walked down the middle of the street, twisting in zigzag formations, avoiding stumbling over wood piles or any other items that hinted that there were buildings. In fact, the only colors around were the broken glass of street lights. The storm had even cast a permanent gray shadow over the sky, and left the wind odorless. There were no people, and I was even beginning to believe there weren’t ever any.
I stopped for a moment when I passed a shining piece of glass. I didn’t even recognize the girl before me. The terrifying winds were blowing my dark hair over my dirty face, which had actually become so dark that my blue eyes stood out more. And for once I saw my face without make up. I was surprised that I didn’t look so bad without my black eyeliner and caked-on powder foundation. And, my nose didn’t seem to fit me well anymore. It being so calm and straight clashed with the uneasiness of my puffy eyes.
And then I looked forward at the boy; I had not yet learned his name. He looked fine, except for the torn clothing and peeling hands. I watched his uneasiness as he walked, and could have sworn a tiny point stuck out of his pocket with each stride he took.
I looked around, but there was nothing to see. It looked like every part of the town. The storm had destroyed everything.
The storm. The last storm of my old life, the last storm of many lives. It had come so quickly. One moment I had been watching my family laugh with each other for what had seemed like the first time in our short lives, and the next my house was crashing on top of them. I wondered why my life was spared. I was no different or more important than my family. So, why did I, unsheltered and vulnerable, live while my family, hidden and safely buried, perished?
“Hey,” the boy lifted up my chin that I had subconsciously dropped to the ground. “Cheer up, okay? Things can’t get much worse.”
I scrunched my face at him, “I just lost my family.”
He shrugged, “So did I.” He looked around as we ducked beneath what looked like a small shelter, obviously built by his incapable hands. The dark wood roof was falling in, and the walls were made of what looked like damp bed sheets. He sat down on a small cushion and tapped it, letting me know I could sit with him. “But, we are alive. And, there’s no way to turn back the past.” He started piling small pieces of dry wood, which were rare at that time, into a metal bowl. He then pulled out a box of matches, (I never found out where he got those) and lit the wood. The warm from the fire brightened me up. I hadn’t realized how cold I was. “And, we have each other,- uh.”
“Mary. My name is Mary.” I watched as he opened a can of beans and held them over the fire to warm up.
He smiled, “I’m Joe Pierce.”
How I became so comfortable with that boy so quickly was a mystery. After all, I was the queen of hatred and negativity. It took me three years to even call my best friend a friend. It took me five years for my sister to grow on me. I didn’t even like my parents all that much. But there was something about how he was the only one around. How he had food, and something of a shelter. And, I suppose how I had no one else.
“Where did you live? You know, before the storm?” I scooped out more refried beans with my fingers. Then, I handed the can back to him. Food tasted so good, even just a few fingers full of beans. Apparently, at least from what Joe said, I had been unconscious for three days after the storm. I had hit my head bad, but he had stopped the bleeding soon enough for me to recover. I sort of owed him my life.
“I just moved here from Seattle.” He looked down at his feet as he took another bite.
“What?” I sensed he was hiding something.
“It’s just, I came here on a whim, you know? My mother lives here, but I used to live with my father. I had no reason to come down, I just did. And now that I met you, well. I just feel like I’m important in a way.” He stared at me, “Don’t you feel it, too?”
I shook my head. I wish I would have figured it out as soon as he did. “No. I have been wondering why I lived instead of my family, but I’m not special.” He started to giggle, “What?”
“Nothing. I can just tell you’re a very negative person.”
“We just met, how are you making these assumptions?”
He lay down on his side and closed his eyes. I hadn’t noticed that it was getting dark. “I can just tell, Mary.”
“Shh, be quiet, they’re sleeping!”
“We will just wait here till they wake up…”
“No, then we will scare them! They’ll think we’re evil!”
“Well, what do you think we should do then?”
“I don’t know.”
Little voices were surrounding my dreams. But, after listening to their bickering, I realized I was awake. After all, at that point, there weren’t dreams anymore.
“Who’s there?” I sat up. If there were lights, I would be able to see them. If the moon and stars were showing, I might have a view of them. But, there was no more electricity, and the moon and stars were covered up by a thick layer of clouds whose rain didn’t seem to want to fall.
I heard a small slap, “Now you woke her up!”
I shook Joe who had been sleeping beside me.
“What?” He groaned.
“There’s someone here.” I whispered in his ear.
I felt him jolt up immediately, but he made no sound. I also heard something slide out of his pocket.
“Ahh!” A tiny voice screamed. It was a girl, a young girl.
“Joe! Stop!” I lunged myself forward but only hit the cloth wall of the shelter. And then I was alone outside.
“Mary! Where are you?”
“Over here.” I heard him walk up to me.
“You alright?” He picked me up and led me back to the tent.
“Yeah, where are the kids?”
“Kids?”
“Yes, the voices, they were children’s voices. Couldn’t you tell?”
“I guess not.”
I felt a slight tug on my shirt. I whipped around, my hair hitting Joe.
I reached towards the tug and felt two little heads with wet hair.
“I’m sorry for scaring you.” A little girl’s voice whispered.
Another slap, “Don’t apologize.” A boy’s voice said. He sounded none too much older than her, though, but for some reason I was still afraid of what he could do.
“Sorry.”
“I said no-“
“What are you kids doing?” It was a question that used to be casual and easy to answer. But, ever since the storm, no one knew what they were doing.
“We are all alone…” A girl’s voice trailed off.
“We are tired and hungry, and don’t want to be alone.” The boy said. I heard two hands rub against each other, and it wasn’t mine or Joe’s.
Joe and I didn’t say anything. More people with us make it harder to survive, but I wasn’t about to leave them alone. He didn’t take it as easily as I did.
“And that’s our problem?”
“Joe,” I looked at him even though he couldn’t see me. “I think we should help them.”
He didn’t say anything, so the little boy spoke. “We have some valuable information that you may need.”
“Like what?”
“We will tell you in the morning.” I heard the boy lay down, and the girl following.
“What are your names?” I asked politely as I laid down myself.
“Zach,” said the little boy. “And this is my sister Abigail”
I'm so happy you guys hadn't figured out the basis of the story yet. If you do have any idea, please PM me.
My cheese, chicka, you're really talented. I had a brother screaming at me while I read this and I still understood what was going on. I didn't really find anything wrong with it, either, but I'll try to pick out what I can. 
