John opened the drawer and hastily picked his belongings.
He left the building in a hurry, still shaking, not knowing if he should talk to someone about it.
- Captain, you’re not gonna like this…
- Have you figured out what’s wrong with comms?
- I wish I had, but I still can’t make any sense of this. Everything seems to be in order. I don’t understand why we’re not receiving.
One year since the apocalypse.
He had a rifle.
Not many bullets on him, but he had a rifle, and more bullets back in his hideout.
Two years since the apocalypse.
One year since the last sighting of another human.
Six months since the last animal had passed by.
Ten years since the apocalypse.
The teacher, visibly worn out by the years, persisted.
Teaching not only the original class but now pretty much everything else that should, that had to, be taught, since there was nobody else…
Forty years since the apocalypse.
Mark, unfortunately, had been born well past it.
Long before, advancements in medicine had helped us look better, be better.
Even though his father had just died, he was trying to act as if everything was normal.
He had breakfast, picked up his backpack and went out. There were things to be done.
The weather and the distance made him wish he had a car.
