A war goes worldwide. Eventually, the human race is so wiped out, no one survivor knows if they are the only one. Devastation is everywhere. As with tornadoes, entire towns or neighborhoods might be wiped out, but a single home, or business was left unharmed. Bodies decomposed in piles where they fell. The attacks had been universal in location, as well as in type. There had been nukes, air attacks, booby traps, face to face attacks, and land roving weapons. Ships attacked other ships. People who tried to transfer funds to accounts they planned to use later were stabbed, shot, and tortured to death where they sat.
As a man named Steven foraged for what he could use for survival in the city where he has lived his whole life except during college, he staggered under the weight of his grief. The stench of death was inescapable, so considering food sources was almost impossible. Suddenly, a person who looked dead began to stir, and moan. Steven recognized him. He had seen him raping his daughter, but when he had tried to rescue her, the man shot her before he withdrew, then pointed the weapon at Steven. Steven ran to escape death, feeling the weight of a father’s guilt as he sought safety. Now he watched terror wrench the man’s face as he saw Steven approach him. The injured man held up a canvas military bag which had a shoulder strap hanging from it. The man spoke a language Steven did not know, and he urged Steven to take the bag. Not knowing why, Steven took the bag, and looked inside. There was unharmed fresh fruit. The man was trying to buy his life with a bag of produce.
Steven flung the strap over his shoulder, and with no good reason, helped his enemy to his feet. Together they stumbled along, seeking a good shelter.
After hours of stumbling between rotting corpses, they found a Pizza Hut mostly intact. Steven left the stranger who could not speak the same language on top of a table. He then searched for things to tend the man’s wounds. All the while, his ears searched for voices.
When he returned to where he had left his enemy, Steven saw that I the man had gotten off the table, and found a reasonably clean ceramic plate to place out his fruit.
Steven hated this man; wanted him to suffer, but hated even more the idea of dying alone. He hoped to find other survivors, so he could feel enabled to kill the monster he was helping.
TJBM will continue my story, keeping in mind the specifications set forth by TJAM and TJAH.
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