How can the city look so peaceful but be so poisonous. Like a snowy day just waiting for a young boy to roll that first snowball, letting it grow before eventually struggling to roll the body, rolling the ball until it's twice his weight before he decides it's time to roll the head and plops it on top then the obligatory carrot is pushed into the face; or a little girl making angels in the snow and moving her arms and legs in unison like a bird fluttering its wings. But sadly there are no children and certainly no snow, just ash, everywhere you look. It fills the sky and blocks the sun, that's why it's so dark but strangely light at the same time with the monotone colour of pure grey.
They mocked the Mayan prophecy, 'well it's 2013 and were all still here' they would proclaim, but such naivety cost the human race our planet. Governments ignored the warning signs and destroyed each other with such accuracy by throwing nuclear weapons at a problem that could surely have been solved diplomatically. But no, they would rather push a button.
The 23rd of December 2012 wasn't the end of the world. No! It was just the beginning of the end since North Korea's nuclear weapons plans were leaked by South Korean spies and the West, well, over-reacted would be an understatement of the frigging millennium so now there are so few people left; all fighting to survive.
I envy the cockroach!
Here I am, huddled in a damn corner, hiding from him again. I'm sick and tired of running; I mean what the hell is this guy's problem?
My name is Molly, I'm fourteen and three quarter years old, and since the bright flashes around the world and the flames burning the sky almost eight months ago I have been struggling to survive, scavenging for food and water which isn't as easy as it sounds since virtually nothing exists anymore. There must only be the odd few hundred survivors every city or so? I don't know, but what I do know is it's a fight to the death and this guy wants my blood.
Not even fifteen yet and I've had to kill one person so far, but she did come at me with the remains of what could only be described as a spade, or what once used to be a spade anyway. The radiation poisoning was taking affect, skin visibly loose upon her fingers revealing sore and bloody tissue. I should have felt sorry for this mess upon me, however, I picked up the nearest object to me and beat her over the head until she started convulsing which was gross, but I was so angry and infuriated that my family and friends are all dead, all I had in me was anger. She was unlucky but she started it and I wasn't going to let her finish it. It took me about two months to come to terms with the end of the world and I know it isn't long but that's just me, but it's toughen up or perish in this nuclear winter wonderland.
'Crunch' Oh shit he's back. I lay hidden in what used to be a warehouse which supplied TESCO, a supermarket in the day of the living. The warehouse was bare, most of the stock had been burned or scavenged but it was somewhere to hide. I had very few rations and some Irn Bru cans I had found, undamaged.
I think he's finally found me. Footsteps on the floor and the sound of crunching and scuffing as the man stepped over charred remains.
"I know you are in here somewhere," he shouted, "You don't cover your tracks as well as you think". How the hell? I have always covered after myself, disguising my footprints and re-covering where I stepped with ash. "I'm going find you then we're going to have a bit of fun before I end you". I have an idea what he means and I can assure you, not while I'm breathing. "Shit sugar shit" I muttered to myself so quietly that I barely heard it myself.
I hid amongst the fallen shelving in the bottom in one of the corners; he was at the top of the vast room, and entered as I had the day before through a hole in the wall. But I wasn't completely unprepared. I had made sure I had an escape route planned just in-case something like this would happen, and I always do. Never stay anywhere with only one exit if it can be helped.
He was getting closer and I gathered my backpack very slowly and crept as silently as I could, but he caught sight of me and heckled down the room "I'm going to get you, there is no point in running" and he started laughing as he upped his pace across the room however I had the advantage. Not only did the creep have a slight limp from an injury known only to himself, I had all the fallen shelving between us. I leaned over, pushed at the rubble and a small part of the wall gave way, not that big but big enough for me to squeeze through.
I pushed my backpack, a blue and pink pack I used for school a lifetime ago and I pushed my head through the gap. "Oh crap". I just noticed something warm trickling down my face, I must have caught my head on the wall. It stings a little but I thought it was just a scratch. I am almost all the way through this gap and my jeans get snagged. My pulse is already twice its normal rate and I think it has just trebled. I heard my tormentor curse as he tripped up somewhere inside and I felt a sudden pang of relief "okay asshole I'm off," I said but no sooner had I got myself free from whatever was snagging my jeans, I felt two hands grab my feet. I kicked out and heard a crack. Must be his ribs I thought as I continued to try and scramble out of harms way but it's no use. The creep dragged me back through the wall worsening my wounded scalp and scraping my face on the floor. I kicked out and he stumbled backwards but not quite falling over but giving me enough time to stand up, but I wish I didn't. He regained his balance and slapped me with the back of his hand loosening one of my teeth and almost my eyeballs, at least that's what it felt like, and I went back down like a sack of potatoes falling off a moving cart; fast and hard.
This is it, this bastard's going to get his wish and I'm going to die for nothing, after all this. But suddenly, as the fear rises even further at my predicament I spot a loose piece of racking, and grab for it. I swing at his legs remembering his limp at the same time his foot gives my ribs a glancing blow, however, my swing made an impact and cracked his shin. I rolled over and scramble to my feet and swing again, this time to his head. Contact. He gives me a startled look and in his darkest hour had time to give me a wicked grin, but I jammed the racking into his face and dislodged his jaw before smashing his skull repeatedly. By the time I stop the anger and fear subsides, he is dead.
I need to find a new place to rest, heal my wounds. My journey continues, tomorrows another day...
Not even fifteen yet and I've had to kill two people so far...