Young Writers Society

You wake up to the sound of lightning. You look up from your bed and you open the window. A hellish red light pours in your bedroom. With your curiosity, you get dressed and you go outside to explore. The sky was a bloody red, with lightning and dark black clouds in the sky. The streets are a mess and your neighborhood beholds an ominous silence. You don't know what to do but to explore at the disastrous event.

You start to see other refuges who have not yet been evacuated out of the city yet. They were just leaving their houses and apartments, shocked at what they saw.



Rules

1. No mature content
2. Swearing is allowed
3. No killing other characters
4. Do not join if you do not post within one week of joining
5. No magic or god modding (power playing)
6. Have fun

It is imperative that your character lives or is in Virginia for your opening post. After that, you may go to any other part of the United States.

Peyton Hemission

Death be told, the world is ending. The Kraken with awake and all of god's- including those men who classify as forsaken humans- with be worried like the people they are. And nothing will be the same . I sighed, grabbing the remote control, turning off the TV with same tupid Alert saying 'the world is ending! the sky is falling!'- like those bums on the side of the road, waving the sign fiercely at the passing traffic. If the world ends, it would get some people off my hit list- I mean er.. 'people I want to die but I don't want blood on my hands' list (if that is a thing).
It was a sunny day- birds chirping and sun shining through the window, onto my floor. I was suddenly bored, starting to count the dust particles that drift to the surface, silently screaming pleads and warnings. A sudden weight rested onto my shoulders, sinking me deeper into my chair- like a kid getting yelled at by his parents. I slid down until my chin touched my chest, my arms open aside from me, as the dust particles swam in the air.

Silence rang throughout the house. Dancing down the hallways on tip-toes and sliding down the railing of the stairs, walking around the house on air. An eerie silence fell in the room, shadows lunged out like cats stalking prey.. I thought, taking a deep breath in, enjoying the smells.I could have fell asleep- which I did for an hour or so- but when I had woken up (and it seemed to be little bits and pieces), I was still in a nightmare.

When I had woken up- by the sound of crashing lightning- I blinked groggily and felt the blood rush to my head as I saw the evilest red, dance on my living room floor.

What the Hell? I thought as my phone next to me vibrated, shaking the table it was on. Town Hall calling.., it read as I frantically pressed call and continued looking out the window. Red flames danced across the sky, licking at the wind swept grass below; the sounds of door slamming open and people screaming, brought some life into the neighborhood.

"Alfred I told you we should have moved!" Miss Saww, my neighbor, yelled at her old husband. Alfred waved a hand at her, stepping outside in his loafers and daily newspaper; it wasn't long until a bright lightning strike touchdowned near him, causing him to die from electrocution. I screamed, dropping the phone on the floor when a tiny male voice rang on the other side.

"You need to leave this place now... You need to leave this place now.." It repeated over and over again. This was the same call I had got last night.. probably forgot to answer it due to being faked by the TV, I thought, in pure panic- it wasn't a lie. It wasn't a government hoax. We are doomed and we are dead. Something came over me that day, as I opened the door- walking among the thousands of people that were walking out of their houses- to see the sky falling and blood, dark clouds, with the same pained and shocked expression as me.

Declan Tucker

The sky was blood red, lightning streaking across the sky and blinding me the way a bright light would after I've been in the dark for a long time.

All the students were running out of the buildings, evacuating campus and generally in a panic. People were screaming and crying and running for their cars, some abandoning their cars to get out and run for the shuttle buses out. A bolt of lightning struck an old willow tree, setting it on fire. Which of course caused more panic.

Near the tree there was a girl with a book, a boy much taller than her slammed into her in his haste to get away from the burning tree and she was shoved to the ground.

I watched her ankle roll beneath her and her body collapse, her hands clutching her ankle. I knew she wouldn't have broken it but she definitely at least twisted it and walking would be difficult for her.

I stopped in my tracks, she would be left there if no one helped her and it looked like nobody would. I needed to go, needed to get out of there, but tears began to streak down her face, her beanie lay on the ground next to her and her lips forming the unmistakable words:

I'm gonna die.

She tried to get to her feet and she limped painfully for a few steps before falling back down.

Leave her alone, Declan, I thought, ready to make myself turn away, Save yourself, that's what everybody else is doing.

But I couldn't leave her there to die.

I turned back, fighting against the chaos to get to her. I grabbed her beanie and her book, handing them to her.

"Lets go," I said, taking her arm.

"I can't stand," she said, her lip quivering. I paused, it wouldn't be practical for me to carry her in front of me, it would make it difficult for me to maneuver.

I crouched down.

"Get on my back." she looked at me like I was insane.

"You want to give me a piggie back ride?" she asked incredulously.

"Do you want to live or not?" I looked at the burning tree, "That tree is going to collapse any minute now and you really don't want to be here when it does."

She looked at the tree and then back at me before she wrapped her arms around my neck and put her legs around my waist as best as she could at that angle. I stood up, lifting her without much difficulty as she clung onto me. I gripped her legs underneath her knees and ran to my truck in the parking lot, the biggest pickup I could buy at the time with a full cab and a large truck bed.

I deposited her in the front seat and she buckled up.I began driving against the mob of university traffic, not using the road at that point. I drove across the wide lawn to the road where people were driving dangerously. Car accidents were scattered here and there and I moved around them, going straight towards the center of town.

"What the hell are you doing?" she asked, "We need to evacuate."

"No," I said, gritting my teeth, "We need to find the nearest Walgreens."

"What? We need to get out of here! We could get struck by lightning." she seemed surprised at herself while she was yelling at me, like that wasn't normal for her.

"What's your name?" I asked her.

"Claire," she said, her voice shaking.

"Well, Claire," I said, "We need to get medical supplies. Most people will be too busy evacuating but the rest will be looting for food. We need food, first aid supplies and clothes." she nodded then pointed suddenly.

"Costco," she said, "all the things we need in one place." The place was packed.

"stay here," I said.

"How do you know I won't steal your truck?" she asked.

"You can't walk, let alone drive. And if you tried to drive my truck you would hear the accidents from a mile away, it's hard to turn in."

"Size?" I asked. She looked at me like I was crazy.

"Boots, pants, shirts, now is not the time to be shy about your clothing size!" She told me and I ran into the chaos, dodging people left and right.

I grabbed a cart, running to the section with clothes and books, throwing in whatever I could find. I even threw in a few books for Claire and grabbed all the beanie hats they had.

Next I rushed to the food section, grabbing cereal, canned goods, anything that didn't need to be refrigerated. Adrenaline pumped through my body and my hands shook as I threw stuff into my cart, making a mad dash for medical supplies.

The whole shopping trip took about ten minutes. It ordinarily would've taken an hour if you considered trying on clothes and walking around the store. I nearly tipped the cart over several times, racing back towards my truck.

My cart was completely full and I put everything in the back seat, tossing the medical kit to Claire and handing her a book.

She looked mildly surprised, her mouth opening and closing. But as soon as I started driving we both agreed on one thing.

We needed to get the hell out of there.

I slip through the revolving doors of my apartment building, squeezing past dozens of men in ties and women always dragging a scrunch-faced toddler or two behind them. As I pace across the lobby's withering plum-purple carpet (cat-chewed and dog-vomited, by the looks of it. Apparently it's some Persian commodity, but looking at it, I wonder how mangled and dusty my body would have to be to be sold at six hundred dollars a limb), I fantasize as I sometimes do about the movie scenario in which the wealthy business man and the single mother would bump shoulders and drop memos and other paraphernalia from his briefcase and instantly fall into a blissful state of love.

I put my finger to the round 8 inside the elevator, and wait out the rise to my floor alone. I swipe my room card, prop the heavy door open with my foot, and am blasted with the air spilling from the vent across the room. I close my eyes and smile, and then hang my jacket on the hook by the door.

I take a cup of hot chocolate to the couch, and spend an hour and a half watching reruns of Brooklyn Nine-Nine. When my eyes are droopy, I walk into my bedroom and barely have enough energy to change before I collapse wearily onto my bed.

I wake up six hours later to the boisterous sounds of a storm.

A hellish red light spreads across the floor through the east window. At a moment's glance, it looks like the police, but I suppose the lights aren't flashing. I stand to my feet groggily and, unable to satisfy my curiosity, open the glass doors to the balcony. I grab my jacket and pull it over my shoulders hastily.

I hear a whistling sound; long and harsh, as something whisks past the railing. A cacophony of screaming fills my ears, and something's strange with the sky; the clouds are black and rolling vigorously, crackling and sparking spontaneously like static electricity. People are sprinting across the lawn of the park recreation center across the street, teems of people, streaming tumultuously across the yard and towards something unattainable.

I remember the program that my brother had been watching just a day before I'd returned from our visit, Chicken Little, I think it was; all of the barn animals running around in circles as the sky opened up and revealed the alien spaceships, the soundtrack blasting, "It's the end of the world as we know it, it's the end of the world as we know it..." My mind fleets back to his glazed-over eyes and his mouth agape, and panic begins to sprout in my stomach. "Oh God," I mutter. Before any further thoughts can occupy my mind, something comes down fast and hard and blinds me in a flash of light.

I am thrown into the railing, my torso slamming against the metal, knocking the wind flat out of me. There was a deafening snap, and then nothing; my vision returns slowly, shakily, but I remain deaf as I watch the scene unfold; the balcony crumbling beneath my feet, my arm reaching out to grip the scaffolding on the side of the building. My hand begins to slip immediately, and rubble falls against my body. I'm sure I'm screaming, but I can't breathe, my arms straining, something burning through my jacket just below the collar.

The wind slams against my body, and I'm finally able to grab onto the scaffolding with my legs, my whole body shaking. I can hear my breath quivering, but that's all. For a moment I'm watching an apocalypse film, the television muted. Climb down, I tell myself. I close my eyes, inhaling shakily. Come on, Koskia.

I begin to climb down, and then my feet are on the ground. Just under my neckline, my jacket is smoking. In a hurry, I pat it out.

Suddenly, a body crashes into me, sending me stumbling into a bench by the Petsmart. My hearing suddenly returns, and the noise of the crumbling city returns to full volume. I hear a car horn, and whip around to see a man passed out under the hood of a jeep, his head bleeding.

Horrified, for a fleeting second I wonder if the jeep is going to run him over. After a moment of holding my breath, the jeep's inhabitant opens the door and ditches the car, running in the other direction. I rush over to the man. I bend over him, my heart pounding. He's brown-haired, older than me, boyish face, wearing jeans and a blue t-shirt that's pulled up around his torso. His side is scraped, and black-red blood clots around his hairline. Please don't be dead, I mentally plead, my eyes darting around. I can't stay here for too much longer.

Then we'll both be dead.

His eyes flutter open and then closed again. "Thank God," I mumble. Relief shoots through me and then is gone. There's a throbbing pain in my shoulder; I think I did something to it. I drag the man by his shoulders to the abandoned jeep. I'm not strong enough to lift him. I can feel a lump build up in my throat, and tears starting to form in the corners of my eyes.

I wipe my nose and then heave with all my might and pile him into the car. For a second, I'm at a loss for what to do. And then I see a boy, small, under ten for sure, hiding in a stairwell. He's crying, snot-filled tears, crouching against the wall. I'm reminded of Bage, and, my heart aching, I dash towards him a few feet.

"Hey!" I scream, my voice meek. "Come here!" I beckon. The little boy doesn't hear me. I can feel the lightning hovering above us, waiting to strike. "Kid!" I yell. If he hears me, he's unresponsive. Making a quick decision, I bolt to the stairway and grab the kid by the arms. Lightning strikes adjacent to us where the boy had been sitting, a cracking sound filling the air. I half-drag him to the jeep, and help him get in, before shutting the door behind him and the man.

Then I get the drivers seat, my whole body shaking and pounding, and start to drive.

Claudia Reynolds

I was in chem lab when it happened.

One minute the sky was gray and cloudy and the next it was red, with jagged thunderbolts shooting across the sky.

The power in my building went out and other students like me bolted for the door, screaming and crying. There were still smoking beakers full of chemicals and bunsen burners that hadn't been powered off. I swore as some knocked over the closest beaker to the door and it shattered instantly, igniting the papers that had just settled on the linoleum floor.

I swore and ran to get the sand bag located in the back of the room, my professor ran to the sink.

"Are you insane?" I yelled, pouring the sand on the fire, just as he turned off the sink and he had the good grace to be embarrassed.

"Add the acid to the water and you're doing what you oughta, add the water to the acid may your rest be long and placid." I quoted at him, the very same rule he had drilled into us from day one. You never pour water on acid. EVER.

"Sorry, Claudia... adrenaline." He apologized and my anger began to fizzle away. The prof and I began carefully removing beakers from the burners and turning off the gas. He carefully poured the beakers into a container and mixing solutions in it that would bring the ph level to a point where it wouldn't burn the drain we used to dispose of it.

"Why are you still here?" he asked, "Shouldn't you be running for your life?"

"No," I said, "I need to go home and get ready to run. It won't do me any good if I flee without food or water or clothes or my dog. I need to wait until some of the chaos has died down.

"Your dog? Seriously?" he said, peering out into the hallway.

"Aggie is a german shepherd," I said, getting my bag and my car keys, "She can kick anyone's ass, hunt for food and pull me to the ground and on my side if I'm gonna have a seizure. I'm going back for her. She's a trained service animal who was abused by her owner and then left behind. I'm not leaving her." I loved that dog. It made no sense to me but I loved that dog. I usually didn't like things like dogs or fancy food or stuff like that, it was illogical and inefficient. Pets in general were trivial to me but Aggie was the most logical choice I ever made.

I left my professor in the classroom and inched down a back staircase, most people were outside the university already. As I stepped out, I saw that there was a tree on fire and people were running everywhere, it was chaos. I began to run, sprinting back behind the buildings. Even though that was the longest way to the parking lot and would take me a mile or so to get there, I wouldn't risk injuring myself.

My legs pumped and my breaths grew shallow. In through my nose, out through my mouth. In, out, in out. My form gliding along the ground as sweat pooled from my neck and down my chest, soaking my t shirt and making my bra itch horribly. When I finally reached my car, 8 minutes later, I was exhausted.

I climbed in to my car and started the ignition, patting the steering wheel of my toyota prius. It definitely was not the sleekest car in the world but it was voted one of the most fuel efficient in the country, it wasn't too flashy and it fit my budget. Plus Aggie loved to sit in the front seat and watch the cars go by and the pleather seating made for easy cleaning.

I slammed my foot on the gas pedal, heading towards back country roads that nobody would be on. My house was on the outskirts of the little town, not many people to disturb me, great traffic, but close enough to the store and school. Very... efficient. Just like me.

I didn't even pull into my driveway before I ran in. Aggie was frantic. She was a well trained dog and didn't jump but she did bark and whimper towards the window.

"I know," I said soothingly, scratching her behind her ears which were perked up and on high alert.

"It's going to be okay," I said, looking at her and giving her a quick kiss on the nose. When I talked to her, it was almost like she understood what I was saying.

I ran through my little house, grabbing as much water and non perishable food as I could find and clothes for any weather or situation. I put together a bag for Aggie, her water bowl, some flea medicine and her treats. I hated to do it but I took some dry dog food as well. Aggie mostly ate veggies and bits of dried meat made specially for dogs which was actually better for her than dog food, but I also knew the stuff I got only for her would be useless once it ran out and I wouldn't be able to find anymore afterwards, so I grabbed the backup food.

She whined, seeing the bag in my hand but didn't protest further. I think she understood what was going on.

"Come here," I said, and she ambled up to me, her fur standing up on her back.

"Give me hugs," I patted my hips and Aggie jumped up, her elbows resting on my waist as she nuzzled my belly. I loved that trick.

I shoved open the front door and Aggie ran out, sitting patiently in front of the car. I didn't need her leash, she would never abandon me. And I had the same policy for her. I opened up the trunk, throwing in black plastic bags filled with clothes and boxes with food. I slammed the trunk shut and then ran to the back seat, putting in an almost full case of water bottles and six of those big water jugs that go on top of the water coolers. I kept them for the dojo I taught at, they went through water so fast.

Aggie jumped in the backseat after some coaxing. She usually took the front but in this chaos, if I got in an accident, it would be safer for her to be in the back. I got in the car and opened up the glove compartment, taking a treat out and throwing it in the back for Aggie. She didn't even move to get it until I gave her the command.

"Treat, girl!" I said, she wouldn't touch food unless I told her she could. Aggie gobbled it up, licking her snout before turning her attention back to the road outside the car.

I exhaled and turned the key in the ignition, turning back towards town. I needed to get gas and then... figure out how to survive.

Claire Matthews

The world has officially gone crazy. Rampages, fires, screaming, sheer panic. It never ends no matter how far we drive outside of the city. I didn’t think it would affect people this quickly, but honestly how could anyone have possibly known how they would act? It’s the freaking end of the world, or least that’s what everyone thinks. I haven’t heard anything for sure, but the red sky clears that up just a smidge.
As we drive I mostly stare down at my hands, or out the window. No amount of fidgeting will help me feel better in this situation. After I rub the cuticles on my thumbs raw I decide to stick with looking out the window. I don’t dare talk or look at him.

Declan. My knight in shining t-shirt and jeans. God, part of me wishes he would have left me there. I never wanted to be a burden for anyone. Especially a stranger. All I’m doing is slowing him down, and eventually it’s going to catch up to him. I’m going to get him killed. Stupid, just stupid.
What is wrong with me? I should be thanking him for saving me. I should thank him for thinking of supplies now instead of later. I should be thanking him, but why can’t I? Knowing me, I would probably say the wrong thing. I’m not exactly the type of girl who wanted to be a damsel in distress when I was little. I’ve always been on my own and I’ve done a pretty good job at this whole life thing. Not that great with people, but as a writer I don’t really need to be…yet. But now that the world is ending that future isn’t possible anymore. Honestly it might be good to have some help for once.
After an hour or so of driving, I quickly check my ankle. I turn towards the window so he can’t see. It’s swollen with a few bruise spots, but nothing serious. Thank God it wasn’t worse. I hopefully will be able to walk again by tomorrow. Running is out of the
equation for a few days though.

I adjust my beanie and sigh feeling comfort. Most find it strange that I wear one almost all the time, but I can’t help it. It feels like a shield against people. Like, if I wear it no one would see the real me. It’s stupid for me to think that, but it’s always been that way. My dad gave me one the day he left. He told me it would keep me warm during the brutal winters in North Chicago. He had a drug problem so my mom kicked him out, and so I never saw him again. That was the one thing he was ever willing to buy for me over drugs. A beanie, and I was actually really thankful.

I quickly look over at Declan. It’s hard to believe he took time out of the raid to pick up books and beanies. I wanted to laugh, but I also wanted to cry. Nobody ever really notices the things he noticed. I have to stop over thinking it. He is just helping me. That’s all I am. Just an injured bird needing to get back to the sky. I turn my eyes back to the side of the road, and remind myself that the world is ending.

“Shit. Our gas is running low.” He says as the car preforms its warning beeps. I turn towards him.

“What the hell are we going to do?” I ask.

“I have no idea…” He says looking at me.

Crack! Booooooom! Crack! Crack!!! Booooooooom!

Nestled comfortably within the confines of his blue-and-white striped bed, the awakened mind of Kendrick Rees began to run. He swam beyond the dreamy realm that he had been but a short time ago, though his eyes remained shut. At first, he refused to open them. Kendrick hated waking up in the morning, and he would’ve rather slept in for a longer period of time. However, something in his mind informed him that it was time to wake up, and he would, whether he liked it or not. Thus, he slowly began to awaken, despite his best attempts to the contrary.

“Must be a thunderstorm,” a thought said as it flashed by in his mind, and his hearing adjusted to the loud sense of the thunder and lightning outside. Grasping a greater control of his senses, his mind becoming more active and energetic, Kendrick slowly began to open his eyes. They blinked, ever so slightly, and then they started to peer out into his darkened apartment room, solely illuminated by the dark, reddish glow that emanated through the blinds of his window.

What the hell?

His eyes opened fully, he in a state of confusion and surprise. What was happening? What kind of a thunderstorm would be glowing red? “That can’t be normal, no way” he thought, although he wasn’t sure what was happening. His sense of fear and panic had not quite yet emerged in his mind, and so he was left, more or less, dumbfounded. Muscles began to twitch as, slowly, he removed his legs from the bed and sat facing away from the window. For the sake of his mind, he thought, he had to get to the bottom of this potentially dangerous, although he momentarily considered it a mostly benign and little, mystery. Of course, how much could a little relaxation hurt?
As such, he rested there, groggy and weary. But this lasted for only a brief amount of time, before he swiftly and deftly snatched the electronic clock that lay aside his bed on its nightstand. Kendrick uttered a mild malediction. He’d managed to go and oversleep. It was always nice to pretend that, in the mornings, which he could stay sleep for just a few more minutes, and let his mind wander as it always did, but he was never much of a fan of oversleeping, particularly by a few hours. It certainly did no good trying to dispel the ‘lazy’ persona that he was trying to assure that the landlords did not associate with him, especially when it came to paying his bills. However, another little thought rushed through his mind, and he was left frozen in place by the implications of it.

Why is it so quiet?

Kendrick was aware that, normally, he would be awoken by the sounds of dozens of neighbors in this apartment complex going about their daily business. But there was nothing. There were no sounds of showers being turned on, of people sitting down, reading a newspaper, and eating their breakfast; save for the incessant din of the lightning and thunder outside, the apartment building was entirely, completely quiet. There weren’t even the sounds of cars driving outside, nor any of the other normal noises that he’d grown to be familiar with. Kendrick felt of it as an eerie quiet, and he didn’t like it in the slightest. Mild panic began to grow from within him, and he started to worry. Off and on, for the past couple of weeks, everything had adhered to, for the most part, the same routine. Why was this so, so…horribly different? What was with the red glow? What was with the loudness and the quiet? He felt that there was only one way that he could find out.

Turning around on his bed, Kendrick grabbed the blinds to his window and thrust them aside.

His face blanched at once when he saw what was outside. He closed the blinds momentarily, to let the impact of what he had seen weigh upon him. Sweat trickled down his face as his eyes widened in pure shock and horror. Then, with another, equally swift movement, he opened them once again, just to make sure that what he was seeing was not a dramatic hallucination of his mind.

To his utter dismay, it wasn’t.

The sky outside was a deep, dark red. Not the normally sweet and kind blue that he always associated with the sky. This looked like blood, pouring over his head and as far into the distance that he could possibly see. Furthermore, scattered over this crimson ensemble of doom, there were large masses of dark black clouds in the sky. They appeared as black as charcoal, and lightning rained down from them upon the ground beneath. He could see spots, far off in the distance, where the bolts struck distant houses, and large pillars of smoke rose into the air where some lightning bolts, he assumed, had struck previously. A strong, powerful wind ripped across the landscape, sweeping up pieces of trash, whipping the grass around the building incessantly, and acting as the ominous cherry-on-top to this horrible, bleak scene.

There was not a soul upon the street that stretched from his apartment to the neighborhoods and city beyond. The smoldering remnants of a few cars littered the road, likely the product of an accident produced between two drivers who had no doubt acted in reckless haste and collided. Almost every single garbage bin beside a house was knocked over, many of them appearing to have been crushed by a large object – also, as Kendrick assumed, the product of reckless drivers not paying attention to their surroundings. Trash was sprayed across the road the same way that dark clouds covered the sky, and he could see a few cracks and holes in the street. In all, it was a scene of complete abandonment and devastation.

He sat there, looking in sheer terror at the scene below. He could not bring himself to move a muscle, so affixed was he to the sight. It took him a significant period of time before his brain could even muster itself to guide his next action, although it conducted it great, and immediate, effect. Kendrick wheeled around, seizing a drawer in the nightstand and flinging it open, accidentally ripping it from the said nightstand and causing it to fall upon the floor. Kendrick completely ignored what he had done; he knew that he had to write down what he had seen, and he had to do it now. The sudden impulse coursed through his veins, and became the only object of his mind’s desire. He therefore wrenched from the fallen drawer a notebook, and flipped through pages after pages of the notes scribbled upon it in his own handwriting. Locating the first empty page that he could find in the notebook, he furiously wrote down the present date. Although briefly dismayed at how ugly his handwriting looked, he began to concoct his latest set and words and images, making sure to describe, in the most specific details he could think of, what he had seen. And thus did he continue for quite some time…


======

Kendrick burst out from the bathroom, now fully dressed in his typical attire. He looked about him at the haphazard mess that was his room, and then at the pair of suitcases that he had arranged beside the door of the apartment. In the time after his spell of sudden and quick writing, he had successfully been able to take a shower, shave, dress, and even eat a small snack composed of the granola bars that he had found ruffling through his stuff, although he didn’t have the slightest clue while it was stuffed in a crack between the cushions of his couch. Now, he felt, he was prepared to start packing. The reason for his hasty departure was that he knew that he had to leave as soon as possible. At any moment, he could be struck by lightning, the winds could rip and tear apart his apartment, or one of a million dangerous things could happen to him. Kendrick had the feeling that he might not last as much as a week if he were to stay. Therefore, it was of the utmost necessity that he leave his apartment carrying whatever item of necessity he could bring with him, and do it as soon as he could, whether or not he had the ability to ever return.
As such, he went to work at once. He laboriously grabbed most everything that he could find, and would be small enough to fit, into those two suitcases. Clothing, the few scraps of food that he had in the refrigerator, which included a few more granola bars, a pillow, and some more personal and dear objects in his life went into the first suitcase. A whole bunch of his journals, dating from when he received his first journal to his present one (or some 21 years of notes), some of the pens that he had collected on his trips to other nations in his younger days, and even the childhood toys that he had brought from his family’s home when he moved into the apartment went into the other. After only a half hour, he was complete with his packing, must to his satisfaction.

Finally, after having looked proudly upon the fruits of his labor, he snatched his hat and his coat and donned them, thereafter heaving both of the suitcases that he had packed full of his personal possessions. However, he then spent a silent, contemplative moment staring at the apartment that he had made his home for only a few weeks. A tear silently fell down his face, the culmination of a tragic realization that had made its presence unknown until this time. He had tried furiously to try to make something new of his life, and this was supposed to be the place where he would do it. Try to get a scholarship, to go to college, to even acquire a degree. To make a name for himself, to be proud of what he had done and what he was. And now, thanks to this disaster that was boiling to a fever pitch of destruction all around him, he couldn’t have that chance. That broke his heart and brought more fear and pain to him than the nightmarish scene around him could ever. But he had no time to dwell upon the moment any longer; he needed to leave, and leave soon, if he wanted to assure his survival.

He thrust open the door, and closed it for the last time.

======

It didn’t take him that much time to find his car; after all, it was the only one in the parking lot. Almost as soon as Kendrick kicked open the door to the otherwise empty apartment, he walked at once in the direction of the car. He was relieved to be away from the complex; it was too eerie and creepy, feeling as though some horrible monster might just appear from around each corner he turned in the elaborate system of hallways, or burst from a room with a menacing, thundering sound. “I’ve been watching too many horror movies,” he thought, shaking his head as he opened the trunk of his beat-up, large sized sedan, and stuffed his suitcases within.

Satisfied, he closed the trunk of his car, and made to walk to the front and get inside. However, as he did so, and while he stared up at the apartment complex, something made his blood run cold. Most of the balconies of the apartments looked perfectly untouched. However, one of the balconies of a floor two stories above him had been utterly smashed, undoubtedly by the lightning that was wreaking havoc upon the town. Pieces of debris littered the area under the formerly existent balcony, and Kendrick swore he could see what might possibly be dried blood on the grass. Kendrick realized quickly that there may have been somebody on that balcony – that thought alone scared him immensely, particularly as it suggested he had been so close to death and had not even noticed it. Worse yet, he was struck by the sudden awareness that he knew the person who owned that apartment. They were not close friends, but she was a friendly enough neighbor, and he liked her.

He was fairly sure that was Koskia’s apartment, and he couldn’t see her anywhere.

Kendrick gulped. The air around him was full of static charge, and he felt some of the hairs on his head stand up. That wasn’t a good sign, and he was aware that he couldn’t risk searching the area to find her. This was assuming, of course, she had not been vaporized by the lightning strike, though he doubted the probability of this event – lightning, no matter how strong, wasn’t normally known to do that. If he stayed any longer, he too might be struck by lightning, and he was unsure that would be able to live through such a strike. Although he wanted to stay, wanted to search, and wanted to see that his neighbor, though the two rarely corresponded, was alright, he knew that he simply couldn’t. He could only hope that she was alright and she too had managed to escape. Kendrick fixed his attention upon the destroyed area that once held a balcony as he stepped into the car, turned the key in the ignition, and started the vehicle. Then, looking at the devastated streets beyond, he backed the car out of the parking lot, and drove into the mess of what had once been a city.

What had once been a city…

Avendred Tamsyuit

Aven stayed in his bed for a few minutes, thinking over the dream he just had. It was pretty scary actually, with lots of buildings crashing down, and people getting trapped in their own homes. It was just a dream, he told himself, yet a small part of him felt it had an important meaning. He shrugged at his own thoughts. It was pretty early, so his mind was probably playing tricks on him.

Yawning, he ate some breakfast and brushed his short brown hair in his tiny bathroom. He looked around his apartment, and thought, not for the first time, Why am I here again? He sighed at his question. You know why, he reminded himself firmly. Aven then grabbed his jacket and started to go outside, ready to start the day. What happened next would scare him for the rest of his life.

He stepped out of his doorway, onto the stairs, when he heard a loud rumbling above him. Looking up, he shudder unconsciously at the very scary-looking stormy clouds in the sky. And the sky itself wasn't even grey or anything, it was bright crimson, much like the color of blood. Scared, he ran down the platform, trying to make it to his car in time to what, drive? Anything is better than just standing there like an idiot, he told himself.

Barely ten feet away from his car, disaster struck. A lighting bolt went straight for his beloved vehicle, wreaking it in less than a second. Aver started to run in panic, not knowing anything else to do at the moment. He tripped on a rock in the road, and fell on his head coming down, landing sharply on his back. He saw a car coming towards him, and closed his eyes in defeat. However, that wasn't where his life was going to end. When he opened his eyes once, he saw what appeared to be a woman in his blurry vision who grabbed him and placed him in a vehicle. Feeling safe at last, Aven fell asleep once more, welcoming calm dreams.

I woke up with a start after hearing a loud boom. I was groggy and exhausted, but I got up to see what was going on. I didn't know if it was a terrorist threat or something else. I threw on a shirt and shoes and ran to the front door. I opened the door and I couldn't believe my eyes.

The sky was red and black clouds filled the sky. White lightning touched the ground and everything shook.

I ran outside and made a beeline to the nearest convenience store. The streets were scare. I would expect them to be flooded and busy, but almost everyone was evacuated. It was just me and other refuges left.

I tried to open up the doors of the store, but they were locked. I grabbed the nearest rock and threw it at a window. The glass shattered everywhere. I got a couple cuts, but I jumped right into the store. Almost everything was gone. There was only canned food spilled and crushed everywhere. I couldn't take that, but I decided that I would go back to my house and grab leftover food. Before that, I went to the Pharmacy area and grabbed the last First Aid kit available. Then, I ran out of the store and went back to my house.

I tried to open the door, but it was locked. I ran to my backyard and broke the back window. I grabbed my keys and rummaged through the refrigerator and cabinets only to find a few cans and leftovers. I put the food in a grocery bag and headed straight for my bedroom. I grabbed a luggage case and grabbed some clothes. It was going to be a pain from lugging everything around, but it was worth it to survive.

I left my house, went to the garage and got in my car. The sky was getting to a darker red, and the ground started to shake. I pulled out of the garage and drove as fast as possible to the Virginia State Line. I told myself, "This is going to be quite an adventure."

Declan Tucker

I turned onto the closest exit, afraid of what I would find ahead. We passed some construction and I headed for the gas station.

"Declan, look." Claire pointed out the window. There were bodies scattered throughout the road, people who had been shot or hit by cars. Not many, but they were there. The gas station was swarmed with people trying to get out of town still.

"There is not way we're getting through that mess while keeping Roscoe intact." I patted the steering wheel.

Despite the situation, the right side of Claire's mouth turned up in an almost smile. "Roscoe?" she asked.

"My truck." I told her. But she looked at me blankly, trying not to laugh.

"You named your truck Roscoe." It wasn't a question, more of a statement in disbelief.

"Yes. Don't hate on Roscoe, he's gotten us this far." That's when she lost it, giggling as she pressed her lips together to muffle the sound.

"We need to get to the construction site," I said, turning to look at her as she composed herself.

"Why?" she asked,

"I've worked on construction and engineering at sites for a long time. Have you ever seen a bulldozer at a gas station or any construction vehicles for that matter?" she shook her head.

"A lot of times they'll keep full gas cans on site to fill up those vehicles." I put the truck out of reverse, hoping I had enough gas fumes to keep the truck running until we got to the construction site right off the highway. And luckily, Roscoe kept it together. The truck bumped and jolted us as I turned onto the bumpy construction dirt road and Claire whimpered a little. I tried to drive as smoothly as possible.

"Okay, so logically it makes sense that they would store gasoline and any metal tools out of the sun so they don't overheat." I said, not really sure where to look.

"I thought you said you've been on construction sites before..." Claire said nervously.

"Yes," I said, "Habitat for Humanity. A charity. We don't exactly have bulldozers or expensive equipment that needs gasoline on site. We rely on manpower with shovels."

"You worked for Habitat for Humanity?" Claire asked.

"Yeah, I told you earlier."

"That's really cool," she said.

"Thanks. You stay here and rest that ankle, I'm going to look for the gasoline. Read a book, okay?" I got out and shut the door but she watched me anxiously, not opening the book she clutched in her hands.

I headed inside, seeing a folding table with tools and... BINGO. Gasoline. I grabbed two five gallon cans and hefted them to the truck.

"Claire," I opened her door. "Do you think you can fill up the truck with gas, for me? You can stand on one leg while you do it." She nodded and hopped out, feeding ht gas into the tank as I brought gas cans to and from inside the concrete skeleton.

When the gas tank was full, I helped her back into the trunk and loaded the rest of the gas cans in the truckbed. My truck would take about 30-40 gallons. I had 10 more 5 gallon cans and 6 of the 10 gallons.

"Roscoe is stuffed," I announced, hopping into the drivers seat as Claire giggled.

"The world is literally ending, but I'm laughing." There was more lightning just then, and the blood rain started once more.

She stopped laughing pretty quickly. "Go," she said, pointing to the road ahead and I did as she asked.

I stopped when I saw a sign: "Shenandoah National Park" and I pulled in.

"Shouldn't we find shelter?" Claire asked.

"Yes. Caves. I went here once with some college buddies and we saw the coolest cave here. We can't stay in a building without it crumbling, we can't stay in the woods because if a tree gets struck by lightning and catches on fire or falls, we're dead. But a cave offers natural protection and shelter."

"How are you so smart?" Claire asked. "I mean, about nature. I know about literature and the history of beanies but I could never survive like you."

"Thank you," I simply said, not really feeling like I should open up. I drove through the park, disregarding the rules for parking. No one would care. It was a five minute drive across pretty rough terrain before we stopped at the cave mouth.

I helped Claire out of the truck, setting her down gently on the rock floor of the cave. I then began to set up blankets and pillows on the cave floor. After, I collected some branches and dead leaves to start a fire, forming the cliche circle of rocks around it. Laugh now, but it really does help contain the flame.

I cracked open an instant ice pack from the first aid kit and I applied it to her ankle and she winced.

"You okay?" I asked and she nodded, biting her lip.

I cracked open a can of soup, and then paused.

"Wait." I said, "I forgot pots. And spoons... I'm an idiot."

"No you're not," Claire said firmly. "You are a genius. Everybody forgets things." We took turns drinking cold chicken noodle soup from the can until it got dark.

I suddenly felt really worn out.

"I'm going to sleep, okay?" I asked, moving to the other side of the crackling flames. "You can read or... well that's your source of entertainment, actually. So you can read for as long as you want, you won't bother me."

"Goodnight." She said, softly as I turned on my side, trying to fix the blankets to get comfortable on the stone floor.

"Hey Declan?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

"For what?"

"For saving my life." And then I dozed off.

You packed your last two bags,
The taxi's round the bend.

You used to laugh out loud,
But you can't remember when,
You lost your lies,
It's like you're moving out of time,

And the whole world crumbles
Right beneath ya..

The jeep's stereo is outdated. It plays, muffled and tinny through the speaker, ironically sweet. The song paired with the circumstance reminds me of the video game commercials my brother watches; the ones where alien spaceships are exploding, army generals are whipping out the big guns, and entire planets are being demolished while the intercom blasts "It's a happy world" and "Life is good" and other painfully uplifting lyrics. Bags always tends to gravitate towards the particularly apocalyptic films. He dressed up as whoever Brad Pitt played in World War Z for Halloween last year. "Nobody knew who I was," he had complained after school. I told him that even if he grew a beard, stopped being black, and looked like Brad Pitt, a bunch of other ten-year-olds still wouldn't know who he was trying to be. "Obsolete," I had explained. "Nobody watches that stuff anymore."

There are many cars trying to make an exit. They're swerving all over the place, not paying attention to the left and right blinkers or the flashing tail lights. I make a hard left, gasping as the Saab in front of me comes to a complete halt.

I'm the one that loves you lately
You and me,
We've got this great thing.

We're the only ones all around,
We're the only ones all around.
This Babylon

I try to let up on the gas and turn at the same time. I avoid a near collision, hearing glass break as our headlight smashes violently into the Saab's bumper. I breathe a sigh of relief as we break into the clear. My palms are slick with sweat. I unclench my teeth, tasting blood from when I must have bitten my tongue.

There are fallen lampposts everywhere. I suppose that's the thing I notice the most as we're driving past the crumbling city; the fallen lampposts and telephone poles. It must be some unfathomable natural force that uprooted them; a severe earthquake or something similar.

That's the most I'm able to think about what's happening. My ears still feel foggy and muffled, and the skin of my collarbone burns whenever my jacket brushes against it. The terrain is bumpy; there are times when I'm forced up onto the sidewalk, or my wheel narrowly avoids skidding sideways into a ditch.

It's absolutely terrifying.

Finally, I turn onto the highway. Sweating and panicking, I take a deep breath. I slowly unbuckle my seatbelt and grip the steering wheel between my knees, starting to tie my hair up into a ponytail. It's a trick I acquired from my best friend from high school, Susan Jillian. It isn't exactly the best time to take my hands off the wheel, but I guess old habits die hard.

I hear whimpering from the backseat; breathing through mass amounts of mucus, the shifting of position constantly. I look in the mirror, settling my hands back on the leather of the steering wheel. The boy from the stairwell looks at me in return, his eyes squinted and red-rimmed in emotional anguish, his mouth contorted in a tight grimace. Tears are dried to his face; his dark blond hair is tousled.

I try to smile. It's difficult to focus on such a thing as smiling. "Hey, buddy," I say tentatively. "Are you okay?" I guess "okay" is kind of a relative term, and he only stares at me. "What's your name?" I encourage.

"Thomas," he says, his voice meek and small. His chin lowers, but his eyes rise up to meet mine like half moons.

I offer him a warm smile. "Hey, Thomas. How old are you, sweetie?"

"Six," he says.

"Six?" I marvel. "You're getting old. Do you like gum?" He sits up straighter in his seat as I begin to rummage through the glove compartment. I forget I'm not in my own car, and instead reach into my coat pocket. Bingo. I pull out a full package of strawberry bubblegum. I hand Thomas a piece. He looks almost satisfied as he begins to chew.

I use the opportunity to cast a worried glance towards the other man in the backseat. He's slumped against the window, his eyes shut. Blood is seeping through his shirt, and his head is also bleeding significantly. I'll have to pull over in order to apply pressure to the wound and decrease blood loss. At this rate, as far as I know, the act of simply pulling over can be what gets us killed. Instead, I just pray that everything will end up okay.

"Where's Mama?" Thomas's voice suddenly wavers from the backseat. "I want Mama."

His voice cuts into my heart. Without lending a response, I switch lanes. Traffic is insane. I suppose evacuate the city isn't as pre-routed as its portrayed. The ground quakes; the car rumbles and I hear a sharp inhale as Thomas falls into the man on the left.

And then Thomas begins to cry again; a silent, hiccuping whimper, his eyes covered with his palms. We're on the bridge when an earsplitting crack resonates throughout the entire stretch. Another. Crack. Upon looking in my rearview mirror, my eyes widen as I see the entire bridge begin to collapse. My spine prickles, and adrenaline surges through me. "Oh God," my voice cries, and I floor the gas, my eyes blurry and wet. I crash into the rear end of the car in front of me. I switch the gear into reverse, and try to back out.

The rumbling beneath the earth becomes louder in volume as the concrete in torn up, rubble flying into the air. And then, suddenly, we drop.

My breath stops.

We're falling, and suddenly, something catches the back wheels of the jeep, causing the front of the car to surge forwards. My body is thrown against the seatbelt, my head snapping forwards, my elbow hitting the steering wheel. For a second, I black out.

And then my vision begins to gradually return, fading in. The airbag has settled around my face, and my head is rushing with blood and pounding furiously. I hear a clunking sound, and feel the car rock as I move slightly. I freeze. Not good. Slowly, I look out the window. My stomach churns as I take in the sight of the frothing river, at least a few hundred feet below us. A piece of rubble had come down on the trunk of the car, and we're dangling dangling precariously on the edge of the bridge.

My eyes make out dozens of overturned cars in the water below us. I gulp. I try not to move. "Thomas?" I croak, my voice ragged. "Thomas?"

I hear a wet coughing from behind me. Relief fills my chest. Thomas whimpers. "My hand hurts," he says through his sobs, "I can't move my hand." He shifts, and the car begins to tip. I let out a sharp inhale.

"Thomas," I say loudly. He stops moving, and I exhale. "Don't move. Just don't move." He's suddenly still and completely silent. I think I terrified the hell out of him. "Now, I need you to do something," I say, my voice shaking. "I need you to unbuckle. Slowly and carefully. You hear me?"

"I'm scared," Thomas whispers.

I close my eyes. "Me too," I admit. "But I need you to listen to me." I take a deep breath. "Okay, honey?" In the mirror, he nods, his lip quivering. "Okay." I hear the sound of Thomas's seatbelt recoiling. The car groans. "Okay," I repeat, trying to convince myself. My hands are shaking as I reach down to unbuckle my own seatbelt. I take a deep breath. Even the slightest movement sends the car tipping forwards. I retract my hand.

I hear a sudden and unexpected movement from the backseat. "What's going on?" I hear a groggy man's voice slur, and I gasp vehemently as the car creaks.

"Don't move!" I yell, the volume of my own voice surprising me. "Don't move," I repeat in a whisper. My eyes try to find his in the mirror. The man in the blue shirt looks shaken up and lost, and by the looks of it, severely concussed. His eyes are squinting themselves open, and are a golden brown. There's some stubble shadowing his chin, and his brown hair is cut short. He freezes, before his fingers touch to his forehead slowly. They come away with blood.

His eyes look from me to Thomas. "What's happening?" he asks, his voice tense and whispery, as if we can be dead at any moment. We can be, I realize. I swallow, my eyes filling with tears. I try to blink them away, but the lump in my throat nearly overpowers my voice.

I make eye contact with him in the mirror. "I need you to help Thomas out of the car," I plead, nearly crying. "The little boy, Thomas. I need you to help him out." The man's eyes dart to Thomas, who's completely silent, his eyes wide, clutching his left wrist.

"No," the man says suddenly, observing our situation. ""The car, it could fall if the weight isn't balanced. If he gets out, we're dead."

"I know," I say helplessly. "I don't know what else to do." Come on, Koskia. Stay strong. I try to push the lump further back down into my throat. A tear slides down the surface of my cheek. I breath shakily, wiping my eye slowly. Sirens go off in the distance.

After a moment, the man says, "You know what, you're right." Surprised, I look up. The blue-shirted man is beginning to observe the size of the opened window. "We should save him first." He turns his head. We make eye contact. I quickly nod. "Through the window," the man says to Thomas, and then to me, "Once he's out the window, you have to get into the backseat, as fast and as carefully as you can."

"I can't," I say hastily, saliva building up in my mouth when I forget to swallow.

"You have to," he says, "or else the car's gonna fall."

"The car will fall if I move," I tell him, my eyes burning with tears. My breath quivers.

"It's okay," he says, his eyes locking with mine. "You can do it." His voice changes suddenly; its steady, reassuring cadence sounds completely void of terror. "And if not," he says, nodding at me, "then we'll go down together."

Peyton Hemission

"We're being lead by an idiot with a crayon," a man said. It was true, though, as most of the people were wandering around, with dazed and confused looks, each lead by family members. Children were crying, holding onto their parents' hands and would have to be dragged to walk. Peyton would rather be sleeping during a time like this, have no care in the world and would enjoy the world coming to an end. She was the kind of person who would enjoy that.
The "idiot with a crayon" continued to stagger towards the crowds, leading a congo line of shaken people. He was small with few hair onto of his shiny head, and his prompt display of hope was classified as stupidity and ignorance. His suit pants were creased, ripped, and stained with the mortifed amount of alcohol. His tie he wore was lime green with fluffy grey seals, clapping their hands retardly at what was happening.
Peyton was ten people behind the "idiot with a crayon" and from the view, he was an idiot. The people in the line weavered in and out of their place, running ahead to see their family members while some welcomed nervous siblings with tattered dolls and stuffed animals, their button eyes sewn off.
Peyton excused herself from the crowd, drifting into her own set pace when she came across a group of people mumbling under their tried breath. There was a boy with periwinkle purple hair that fell over his mixmatched eyes, a girl with uneven skin tone, a smaller boy that had coffee colored hair, and an adult that looked on the verge of falling alseep. Peyton studied these people until the girl looked over.
"Hey, excuse me?" she said sternly.
Ashley looked up.

"Why are you looking at us?"

"It's the end of the world and you ask why I am looking at you?"

"In all common sense, it is," the girl responded. Peyton looked dismayed, continuing on her way in front of the people she just met. It was a horrible sight. Tangled telephone wires were cracking and sparking like fireworks. The ground was shaking, toppling some of the broken buildings' onto nearby cars. The car horns simultaneously went off, creating an eerie
echo down the bare streets. It was suddenly that the world was falling apart, more or less.
"This seem mostly harmless!" someone had shouted as new cracks were forming under their feet. As the person was screaming their lungs out, their useless body fell through the cracks and silence. The people around the hole, in a split second, regretted waking up this morning and ran.
Peyton was being trampled, pulled, and screamed at. When the crowd was cleared, except for the remaining walkers, she stood up. Meanwhile they sky was shaking, flames erupting from above and touching the horrid land below. Houses soon crumbled under the weight of pressure from the atmosphere breaking, leaving the street untouched and broken. Peyton had no time for this as she began running. She heard noises; wild, silent noises of invisible voices that chanted her on.
When she escaped the tretious climate, the weather was different. Actually everything was different. Peyton saw nothing left of the town, only paper and bags were drifting through the wind. Another rumble sent Peyton to her knees, throbbing pain rushing into her pelvis. She cried out but nothing came out, around her the buildings were caving in. Her only shot was to run but in this pain? She sighed, resting her chin on her elbow.
It was then she heard another rumble, like elephant's running. Peyton look lazily towards the distance when she saw a black 1935 Auburn racing down the street. An idea stuck her like a pan, as she tried to get up while the car speed forward. When Peyton did, limping in pain, sat on the side of the road.
The classic Auburn slowed and stopped in front of Peyton. The grey windows blocked the outside from the inside, only showing a siloutette of whose driving. Peyton squinted as the stranger opened up the car.
A pearl haired man wearing a grey, dusty shirt, stepped out of the car. He moved his shoulders and shook his body. The stranger looked around while smelling the air.

"What's your name?" he asked to the silence. Peyton was confused until she realized.

"Oh! Peyton Hemission."
"Nice to meet you, Mrs. Hemission. I'm Mr. Kendrick," he responded, squatting down. "What's wrong?"
"You know, it's hard to answer 'what's wrong' when nothing is right."
Kendrick shrugged. "Take that you are fine."

Peyton sighed, when another rumble broke the Earth. Her pelvis throbbed still as she hissed in pain.

"You are hurt. We need to go," Kendrick said, standing up abruptly.
"I just got here."
"Yes, but you do realize the building we are under can break at anytime?"

Peyton shrugged. "Death too must be earned." Kendrick sighed. "Look, you are young. I am old. We need to go."

"I cannot walk to your-your fancy car!"

"I'll pick you up!"

Peyton laughed. "I am not letting a stranger pick me up!"

"Fine! Die. Just wanted to be nice for once," Kendrick stated as he walked away. The building Peyton was under, shook when another rumble happened. Above the sky was licking with fire, red clouds seemingly coming closer to the ground. Peyton smirked as she felt a pebble fall on her face. She shook her head and looked back; the building's roof, was concave into the building and was falling.
She quickly got up and ran towards the stranger's car. Peyton scrambled in before Kendrick could say a word and screamed "Go!"

The engine screamed to life as Kendrick and Peyton zoomed off. Behind them, the buildings were toppling down onto the paved road.

"Thanks." I said.

"For what?" He asked.

"For saving my life." I watched his eyes slowly close. It only took a few minutes for his breathing to slow down. Rough day huh? Can't say I blame him. The only thing that's stopping me from crashing is the thunder beating in my chest.

I should of died today.

But I didn't.

And it's because of him.

My mind races as I think of all the people I saw running for their lives. What could they possibly have been thinking about? Their families? Their regrets? Their unaccomplished desires? I think back to that moment before the shit hit the fan.

At first I was thinking about whether or not my math final would still be happening next Thursday. Then, the blood pulsing screams and red sky kind of knocked me out of that reality. Next I thought about my family, my friends, the books I never finished. The guy I never told my feelings for in high school. How I never stuck up for myself. How I let people make me feel invisible all the time....

It's strange the things you think about when you know the world is ending.
Then when I got hurt, I thought about death. I thought about whether it would hurt, or if there actually was an afterlife. I didn't think about survival once. At least that was until Declan picked me up. In a matter of milliseconds that stupid guy gave me hope. More than likely I'm gonna get him killed, but still. The shit is still hitting the fan, and the world is slowly going to go crazy, but for this one moment I don't have to think. And I don't. At this moment all I want to do is melt into the walls and become invisible again with a book in hand.

This isn't high school Claire. Not anymore. Not ever again. You are a grown woman, and you need to man up.

Now is the time to think about something more.

I need to think of survival, and I need to think about how I need to keep that idiotic...heroic guy from dying. I don't mind dying with regrets. That's inevitable. But there is no way I'm dying with a debt I need to repay. I don't plan to go down without a fight.

Please don't get him killed. Please don't get him killed.

My eyes become heavy and drift off to sleep.