Chapter 1
Here it is, the end of the world. I never thought I would be alive to witness it, but here I am. Turns out it didn't end with a boom but with the sound of shattering glass and failed test subjects. As I walk across the debree from the ruined buildings, I keep an eye out for Failed Test Subjects (FTS), commonly known to the last survivors as the ‘Failed Ones’. It's funny to think that these tall scary creatures used to be human, that was till the test tube holding the supposedly cure for cancer shattered, leaving the remnants inside of the poor FTS’s. I don’t actually know how it gets through from one person to another, but I'm pretty sure it's like a virus or zombie bite thing. There's a cool breeze, interrupting my thoughts and making me shiver. I had to leave my warmest hoodie on the side of the road a few towns away because it tore and was basically rags. I feel the hair on the back of my neck rise as well as goosebumps on my arms. I turn my attention to finding shelter, and it seems today I’m lucky. There’s a corner store with its doors hanging slightly ajar. I know, I know, it’s most likely unsafe, but my hunger wins over my conscience, and I slip in. Curiosity killed the cat,they say. However, satisfaction brought it back. And I think the satisfactory thought of food will bring me back. I look around trying to gather my surroundings, but it's hard when it's close to pitch black. I'm able to make out a few shelves with probably expired food, but hey, food’s food. Just as I was about to make my way to the packed goods, a thought crossed my mind, making me stop dead in my tracks. The apocalypse started around a year ago, so why hasn't this place been raided? Anxiety builds up in my chest, and I have this awful feeling of dread. Then a loud ‘bang’ fills the room, and the air fills with dust. My eyes well up, and my nose burns, but the anxiety feels way worse. I look at the shelf just centimeters away from my feet. My chest is tight, and I can feel sweat beading on my head. I look for movement. There is no way that the shelf fell on its own. My eyes land on a figure in front of me. I suppress a gasp, my hand instinctively reaching for my gun, but I stop myself. This figure isn't nearly as tall as a Failed One, but it's hard to calm my racing heart. Before I can process what's going on, the figure steps out of the shadows. Now my hand is on my gun, human or not. I have to be cautious. I hold the gun up defensively and look at the figure. “Casper?” They say as they walk into the light. His voice is rough and dry as if it hadn't been used much, and I drop my gun. The moment I see him in the light, I drop my gun. A sob builds up in my throat, and the person standing in front of me is my boyfriend, Ben. After a year and a bit with little to no human contact, especially with someone I'm close to, I feel this weird feeling in my stomach. It's not like anxiety or dread but something else. All I want to do is lean into him and cry, but my legs refuse to move. My brain starts giving me a million thoughts at once. Should I trust him? It's been a little over a year, and the apocalypse changes people, I might not know this boy anymore. I notice his lack of weapons, and any doubt I has melted into a great need for a hug. He rushes towards me and wraps his arms around my waist; I don’t refuse or fight. I just lean into him. The feeling of human contact is so amazing and overwhelming that I start to cry. I missed this so much. I missed him so much. My tears dampen his shirt, and he squeezes me tighter. Hugging him feels like the apocalypse never happened, like we’re still sitting in my room laughing at cheesy rom coms that really were horrible. A small smile makes its way to my face, and I step out of the hug. Looking at him now, not much has changed. Still the same dark skin, messy black hair with that awful mullet I hated, but I don’t hate it now. It’s comforting to see. He takes my hand and leads me to the back of the store where he set up a small camp. I smile and set my sleeping bag across from his. “We have a lot to catch up on.” He says, now that I’m hearing his voice properly, it is a bit deeper than it used to be but not too much. I nod and pull my legs to my chest; these coming hours of talking are bound to be very sad; it is the apocalypse after all.
