Chapter 1: The New World Order
Here I am, age 18. I was thrown into this world of chaos by two things. One being my late father, Timothy, my namesake, and the other being the end of the world. Nuclear deterrance had finally failed its duties, and so the world was plunged into postapocolyptic chaos. looting, fighting, the people turned on eachother, often as a source of food when they couldn't find any other. It was Hell on Earth.
My father saved me at his own peril, and I emerged after the fact to see what was left of him buried under rubble. Knowing of only one weapon near me, I did the unthinkable. I looted his corpse and took his wallet, in which I found fifteen dollars, and more importantly a razor blade. I took it, and put it in my pocket. I then pulled my father from the rubble, and dragged him to a place of great importance. A hill on the outskirts of our town, once green with grass, now barren and dead. This hill was where he would take me as a child. He would have me look out on the sunset, and he would tell me to always remember that the sun always rises.
It was there that I burried him, weeping uncontrollably, both at the loss of my father, and at the uncertainty that lay ahead. I lowered him down, and filled in the land, allowing him a peaceful rest. I was not so lucky. I pulled out the wallet and flipped it open, and looked once again at the razor blade. I slid it out of the wallet, and put a gash in my arm. The first of many bodies I was sure to see. I turned away from the mound that my father was now under. I couldn't bare to stay here any longer. I was off to search for survivors.
I walked, looking at all the chaos and dismay around me. The houses that had once lined the streets were now nothing more than piles of wood and brick with a few mangled bodies thrown in the mix. It was sickening and sadening, but I knew that ignoring this reality would ultimately result in my death. I wasn't about to die. I would push on.
I heard a cry from the darkness of an untouched house. I didn't know what surprised me more. That there was a house still standing or that there was someone alive inside. I walked across the street, and checked the door. It was locked. "Hello!" I shouted, "Is anyone there?" The crying stopped and the door opened up. A young girl, possibly around my age was standing there. She gestured for me to come in.
I stepped inside and turned to face her. "Who are you?" She asked. "I was unsure if I could really answer. I didn't even really know anymore. I answered anyway. "My name is Sam, Sam Wolf." I told her. She held a trembling hand. "I'm Amy Redding." She sobbed. I ignored her hand, seeing that was in no shape for formalities. "Are you okay?" I asked. She didn't answer, but I could see it in the cold blank stare in her eyes. The answer was most definitely a no. I wasn't sure. what had happened to her, but I hoped she hadn't lost someone in all this like I had. I decided I'd wait with her until she came back to reality, and then console her in any way possible. I just hoped she'd be okay.
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