1 A Decade into the Apocalypse
Cascading rain collided with the concrete jungle, accompanied by the onslaught of heavy breathing and quickened footsteps.
Puddles trampled by the heavy footwork of what seemed like a onslaught of runners, galloping through the city streets.
The daylight, non existent, whilst the cityscape lay enshrouded in primordial darkness.
The overgrown shrubbery and weeds laced between the cracks in the road, and lay sprawling atop broken buildings.
No sunlight. No electricity. And the city seemed a broken shell of what it once was, a burgeoning beacon of technological advancement now lay in waste.
The sounds of footsteps got louder as the breathing of whatever was running seemed almost exhausted.
Two silhouettes could be seen sprinting down the road; running from what, was unclear, but from the drained colour of their faces they were frightened.
Dreadfully so in fact.
As the two adults, one male and one female ran towards the bridge the was blocked a carpet of darkness seemed to gracefully glide behind them.
A murky fog of the unknown chasing them down with a quickened beat.
Luke and Lucy darted through the labyrinthine alleyways of the desolate city, their breaths coming in sharp, ragged gasps that pierced the haunting silence.
The clamour of their desperate footsteps echoed off the crumbling facades of once grandiose buildings, now mere skeletons draped in the wild embrace of untamed vines and moss.
The air was thick with the scent of decay, a poignant reminder of the city's forgotten glory.
Shadows danced menacingly around them, as if the very darkness was alive with the ominous entity that pursued them relentlessly.
Every cracked pavement beneath their feet and the skeletal remains of structures they weaved through seemed to whisper warnings, urging them to hasten their escape from the unseen dread that lurked just a breath away in the oppressive atmosphere of the abandoned metropolis.
"Lucy! We need to hurry... hurry up now! T... They are almost on us!" Luke stated, breathing quickly between words, clearly struggling to inhale enough oxygen.
"We are alm....almost there Luke! Ju..just a little more to the bridge!" Lucy said panicking.
From an aerial viewpoint, one could see the slithering tendrils of darkness like a virus, stretching down the arteries of the city.
Their destination?
Luke and Lucy of course. All tendrils seemed to be converging towards them at a quickened pace.
The malevolent presence behind them grew ever closer, its unseen footsteps a sinister cadence that spurred Luke and Lucy onward with renewed urgency.
Ahead, the bridge loomed like a behemoth, its expanse their only passage to fleeting safety.
They exchanged a glance, a silent pact forged in desperation, their plan precarious yet vital.
As they neared the checkpoint, manned by shadows more felt than seen, Luke's hand found Lucy's, squeezing tight in a wordless promise.
With hearts pounding like war drums in their chests, they executed their plan with a precision born of sheer necessity.
As they crossed the threshold of the bridge, Lucy's fingers danced with a deft urgency, setting the charges that would sever their pursuers' advance.
The bridge, once a symbol of escape, was now to become a pyre of defiance, a barrier against the encroaching darkness threatening to swallow them whole.
Eyes brightened as both Lucy and Luke could now step on the bridge.
Just as they were about to slip past the shadowy checkpoint, Luke's stride faltered, a sharp, searing pain slicing through the adrenaline-fueled haze.
Glancing down, he caught sight of a deep, jagged gash marring his leg—a cruel memento from their harrowing escape that had gone unnoticed in the frenzy.
The pain, now impossible to ignore, gnawed at his resolve, and despite his desperate attempts to suppress it, his leg gave way beneath him.
He stumbled, the ground rushing up to meet him, and the stark realization that their meticulously laid plan was teetering on the brink of collapse flashed through his mind.
Lucy's grip tightened, her eyes wide with fear and determination, as they faced the imminent threat not just behind, but now also within.
Lucy's eyes locked onto Luke's for a fleeting, heart-wrenching moment, a tumult of emotions swirling within their depths. In that brief exchange, a silent conversation unfolded, one of love, despair, and an agonizing decision made in the blink of an eye.
As determination crystallized in her gaze, she made the harrowing choice to leave Luke behind.
With tears carving trails down her dirt-streaked face, she whispered a choked "I love you, I'm sorry," the words dissolving into the chaos that enveloped them.
Then, with a final, lingering look that spoke volumes of her torment, she turned and sprinted past the checkpoint, her heart shattering with each step that took her away from her fallen companion, leaving a part of herself behind on the doomed bridge.
Luke's POV
"SHITTTT!!"
The curse ripped from my throat, raw and ragged, echoing the turmoil within.
I couldn't blame her; God, how I loved her.
Betrayal nipped at the edges of my heart, yet the cold, hard truth of our apocalyptic reality sank its teeth deeper.
Love, that most sacred of bonds, now played second fiddle to the primal drumbeat of survival.
I understood her decision, rationalized it amidst the searing pain and the chaos that had become our existence.
But understanding did little to soothe the acute sting of abandonment, the sharp pang of heartache that accompanied her retreating figure.
It was a wound no bandage could cover, a scar that would mark the soul long after the flesh had healed.
As the visceral screams, chilling and relentless, filled the air like a macabre chorus, the grim realization dawned on me.
They were coming, and death, that cruel mistress, would not grant me a swift exit.
Amidst the encroaching terror, my fingers found the familiar shape of the detonator still strapped to my side—a vestige of our desperate plan and a testament to Lucy's deep understanding of who I was, even in the end.
She knew me too well, knew that if faced with the abyss, I'd choose to meet it on my terms.
Clutching the detonator, a bitter smile touched my lips, a silent salute to the love we shared and the fate I was about to embrace. In this final act, I found a strange solace, a defiant stand against the dark tide rushing towards me.
Through the blur of pain and adrenaline, the ominous silhouettes took shape, dark visages emerging like spectres from the depths of a nightmare.
Their forms were indistinct, yet the cacophony of their approach painted a vivid picture of the horror that was about to befall me.
I could only guess at the grotesque nature of each entity by the unique terror each sound evoked as they drew nearer to the bridge.
With the end imminent, a defiant smirk twisted my lips.
My arm raised in a final act of rebellion, middle finger extended towards the approaching doom.
"FUCK YOU, BITCH!" The words tore from my throat, a cathartic release, a final stand against the darkness.
And then, with a resolve as cold and firm as the grip on the detonator, I pressed it.
In that suspended moment, an almost serene stillness enveloped me, a stark contrast to the chaos that had just been my reality.
It was an eerily silent vacuum, as if the world itself had paused to draw a breath.
And in that quietude, fear, that constant companion through a decade of turmoil, inexplicably receded.
After ten long, gruelling years, marked by loss, by survival, by the relentless fight against the encroaching darkness, this tranquillity felt alien, yet profoundly welcome.
It was as if, in the face of the end, I had been granted a fleeting respite, a moment of peace amidst the storm of existence.
And in that moment, I found an unexpected comfort, a sense of closure in the silence that followed the storm.
.
.
.
With a jarring flash, reality snapped back into focus, the stark transition leaving me momentarily disoriented.
As my senses steadied, the harrowing cacophony of screams and the ominous shadow of the bridge were conspicuously absent.
No explosion rocked the ground beneath me, no echoes of destruction filled the air.
The disquieting silence was overwhelming, a stark contrast to the chaos I was braced for.
Blinking against the unexpected calm, I scanned my surroundings, seeking something familiar, something real.
But the landscape that met my eyes was unrecognizable, devoid of the apocalyptic ruin I had grown accustomed to.
"Where the fuck am I?!?!?!"
The question burst from me, a mix of confusion and a creeping sense of dread.
How had I arrived here, in this place so detached from the reality I knew?
The abrupt shift from the brink of death to this eerie tranquillity left me grappling for answers, my mind racing to make sense of the impossible.
As my gaze darted around, desperately seeking clues to anchor me to this bewildering reality, the familiar began to seep through the veil of confusion.
Textbooks scattered across a desk, worn from use; bedding, soft and inviting, a stark contrast to the hard, unforgiving surfaces I'd grown accustomed to; and there, the picture frame, its occupants smiling with a carefree joy I'd thought lost to the past.
Recognition dawned with a mixture of disbelief and a burgeoning, desperate hope.
This was my home, my sanctuary from a world before the chaos, untouched by the ravages of the apocalypse.
Every detail, every cherished memory associated with this place surged forth, overwhelming in its intensity.
"If this is a dream, please, let me not wake up," I whispered to the stillness, the words a fervent plea to whatever fates might be listening.
Here, in the embrace of a past so vividly resurrected, the stark horrors of the world I'd known seemed like distant nightmares.
The possibility that this could be a fleeting illusion was a thought too cruel to entertain, as the yearning for it to be real, to be home once more, took root in the deepest parts of me.
