The Savages

    á´� нυÉ¢á´� вÊ�á´�cκ cÊ�συá´� gathered above what used to be the sunny, peaceful town of Ybor. It suffocated the sun, killing its rays one by one. People gathered outside in numerous crowds, their eyes poisoned with a mixed brew of awe and fear. The air became cold and bitter, and there, in the distance, what looked like a endless tidal wave swept towards them.
        Screams emitted from the civilians, and they started to run. Alas, they weren't quick enough. The mysterious black cloud swept over the historical town, wiping out everyone. 
        And then in Alesund. And then in Moscow. And then in Nabooti. They said everyone had died in the incident, but a few had survived, despite the pain and injury...

        "Mom!" A pained screech pierced the air. Satyne Appleton rolled over painfully on her back, pulling a shard of broken glass from her upper arm. She wheezed, coughing. Her dying fern colored eyes surveyed the scene in front of her, and her jaw dropped. Her eyes quivered, and a tremor went through her body. 
        People....were everywhere, dead. She was sure of that. But what had killed them? Satyne gathered up her strength and pulled herself upwards. "Mom!" She repeated, glancing at every body for the familiar blond hair and blue eyes of Sarah Appleton. There, under a large chunk of building. A pool of scarlet blood stained the street, Sarah's body splayed. Her clear eyes had rolled back into her head, and her mouth was open in a whisper that never came.
        Satyne dropped to her knees in front of her mother, rolling the bricks off of Sarah. She began to weep, the tears seeping into the fresh,  bloody cuts on her face. Satyne bit her lip to the point of bleeding. "I'm sorry." She sobbed. "It should have been me." The girl looked down on the ground, grasping her mother's cold, dead palm in hers and chewing the fleshy inside of her cheek. Satyne knew that she had to leave. She couldn't stay here. She had to find somewhere safe, and possibly still inhabited by humans. 
        "Goodbye, Sarah Appleton. You've raised me well. I love you, never forget that. Please watch over me. I am the living, breathing, younger version of you and dad. If I ever have a daughter, I'll name her Sarah. I couldn't have asked for a better mother." Satyne sniffled, reaching out with a shaking hand and unclipping her mother's necklace and tying it around her neck. Satyne Marianna Appleton began not a journey, but a life-changing quest. 
 

        Over in Alesund, Norway, a girl named Hanna Ingeborg crawled out of the barn and peeked out. "Bestemor, it is over now,"  She whispered to her Grandmother. No reply. "Bestemor?" The girl turned away from the red hickory door, closing it with a slam. 
        "Over here, Hanna," Bestemor replied. "what does it look like outside?"
        "Not so good, Bestemor. Very terrible out there. Death is in the air." Hanna stated her observations blankly.
        "Hanna, you know what you must do." Bestemor put a hand on her granddaughter's shoulder. "Take this." She gave Hanna a headband- like object, showcasing her pink gums. "Alt for Norge!*"
        "Alt for Norge, Bestemor. I shall miss your hugs. This is goodbye." Hanna hugged her grandmother one last time, took the headband from Bestemor's worn fingers, and scuffled outside and over to the boathouse. There was the sea, right in front of her, stretching out like a vast blue carpet. With one last look at her old home, she paddled off of shore. "Norge, I'll miss you. I shall forever be in your books. Mark me down as the girl who escaped with her grandmother's blessings. And if the Kraken should take my life, let God lift me to the heavens."
 

                 Akin crawled out of his hut, his eyes widened like an owl's in fear. He rose to his feet and dusted the clay-like dirt off of his legs. "Abana?  Abayomi?"  The boy from Nabooti, Africa called out. "Is anyone here? Anybody?" Not one sliver of a reply. Akin scuttled over to a baobab tree, crawling into the massive hole that termites had gnawed out in its center. It didn't make sense. The tribes that circled Nabooti like vultures were supposed to stay together. Now, their whereabouts were completely unknown. Abana, his sister, could be drowning with the crocodiles for all he knew. His mother, Abayomi, could have been flattened by the mysterious black cloud.
        He decided to seek the answers. Akin closed his eyelids and leaned back in the shade of the baobab, humming an ancient song. He was the 'gifted' one in the tribe, destined at birth to follow the spirits, although his name meant 'brave'. His mother had wanted a warrior for a son but instead got a lousy star gazer. That remark Akin carried on his back like a burden, a sin. The tree's branches groaned in the wind, and the spirits whispered to the child.
        "Akin, you mustn't lounge around. You must leave."
        "Akin, take your possessions and escape."
        "Akin, if you do not leave, you are going to die."
        "Akin-"
Akin's eyes snapped open and he growled, frustrated. "Okay! I get it! I am going to leave!" The spirits must be angry with me,He thought. for they are threatening to take my soul.  Akin scurried over to the hut and took his father's dagger, his sister's beaded necklace, and his mother's gourd*. "My peaceful camp, rest in peace." He climbed over the massive rock that his tribe called 'The Stone One' and ran for the hills, his legs screaming for mercy, the spirit's angry tones swirling around his mind.
 

        The snow stopped falling. The sky turned angry and black, screaming out in large bursts of thunder. The strange turn of events lured Alexi Bramkov from his book and outside into the open. The trees loomed above him, crying out with aching arms. Trails of blood littered the white snow, from where survivors of the Blackout had tried to escape.
        "What...the...hell?" Alexi looked upwards towards the spitting sky. "It was just pouring down buckets of snow an hour ago. What happened?"
        A piece of paper fluttered onto his boots. He picked it up, examining the panicked words and hurried writing. The strange black cloud, we deemed it the Blackout, has managed to kill almost everyone. If there are survivors, and you have been able to read this far without dying, leave Moscow immediately. Do not bother if you are bleeding out in the snow. You will not make it past the border, or to any other town. Take your possesions and 
        The writing stopped abruptly. "Hmph," Alexi grunted. "must have been bleeding out while writing it. Well, better to take the advice than to die on the spot." He went inside and swiped up a few small things that would be helpful, or things that reminded him of his parents. "Well, this is goodbye, I guess." And out he went. Into the blood-stained snow.
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*Alt for Norge: All for Norway