So, I’m still writing my scifi. I took a break, but I am still doing it, you guys. Even if I haven’t kept up with this blog like I should either.
That said, I need a fun project that isn’t serious to play around with, so I’m doing something that’s supposed to be fun and cheeky but still in the sort of apocalyptic/scifi/disaster genre. I also want to put myself in it and make it a weird alternate reality that’s also cobbled with different things in this sort of genre that I love. And then be aware of that? If that makes sense? Ah, you’ll see.
Hope you like the start.
It happened on my 26th birthday. September 17th, 2016. Things were already tense. The Rio Olympics had gone sour as a cocktail of viruses got together and bread something else. They were calling it simply the Rio Virus. It attacked your immune system, your gastrointestinal system, before finally making it’s way to your brain. But it didn’t kill you—not exactly. Yes, ladies and gentleman. That’s how our nightmare of zombies were realized. They looked just like everyone else. Only their eyes were all white. And sometimes they were missing chunks of skin or a limb. Because they had been bitten. But on September 17th, 2016, that wasn’t a North American problem. We were in heavy quarantine mode. The virus hadn’t turned people yet. Their immune systems were just slowly dying and people thought it was a sort of flu. Coughing. Fevers. The usual. The virus would peak later. In the after. In November.
The US election had everyone tense and 2 members of the Trump campaign had committed suicide. The Clinton campaign was reeling from the latest leaks from Assange, but most people were confident she would recover—even though everything was still unsettling. Debates were approaching on the 23d and everyone waited with bated breaths.
But on September 17th, 2016, North Korea did it. They actually had a nuke that could reach Hawaii. And they took it out. Within an hour, the US retaliated. And then came Russia. And China. And we bombed back.
Most of our major cities were gone and the fallout was terrible. Europe was ravaged—Eastern Europe suffered from airstrikes from Russia. China and Russia turned on each other in the middle of it all.
As for the US—DC, LA, New York, Dallas, Houston, San Francisco, Boston, Atlanta, Miami. Gone. Craters of radiation no one dared venture to. Everything was fragmented.
Now here’s the thing. In an apocalypse, people like me aren’t meant to survive. I hate running, it’s from the devil. I had no military training, couldn’t even fire a gun. No survival skills really. But I had a quick tongue, some book learning, and some raw strength paired with some under-developed boxing skills. Not a lot to go on, especially when my greatest skill was building amazing settlements in Fallout 4, but when the left-overs from the military in the area decided to park itself in my port city, I enlisted.
Most cities devolved into mass chaos from what I heard—not like I had access to 24-hour news anymore, but you got word. Looting, gangs, killings, weird mafias and tribes emerging. But because my city had a lot of leftover military, we were on lockdown. My family was moved to camps outside of the base, which made me feel better while I got my butt handed to me by a drill sergeant who I vowed to never let know my loathing of running. He would use it for fun to torment me. I had a smart mouth and sassy comebacks and he was not a fan.
This was not how I wanted to spend my 26th year. Happy fricken birthday to me. At least I didn’t have to worry over elections anymore.