Posted: August 18, 2010 in End of Times, Fiction

I’ve decided to keep up with my daily schedule. There will probably be times where I miss the mark, but cranking things out on such a regular basis will be good for me. Now, get ready for a letter from the future.

The end of the world didn’t come with a bang the way the bible told us it would. It snuck up on us. Famine didn’t come down from the sky and turn our food to rot. Near as I can figure, famine was more of a ran-out-of-resources kind of thing. That oil rig blew in the gulf and suddenly no one could afford to go anywhere. No one actually went hungry until the trucks stopped rolling. The stores ran out of food. Then the warehouses dried up. People started stockpiling.

Pestilence struck without the Old Testament fury we were waiting for. Instead of a swarm of locusts, we got some idiot scientist who failed to properly incinerate a sample of bacteria that had become completely immune to the antibiotics we relied so heavily on. The only blessing was the relatively slow spread of the disease. I mean, no one could travel at that point anyway. Quarantine procedures were easy enough to implement, as well. Some college campus in the American Midwest was ground zero for the infection, and the National Guard moved quickly enough that most outbreaks were squelched in a matter of days.

War, now that one was pretty much like we expected. The infected population fought back, and our precious right to bear arms really bit us in the ass. All it took was one sick NRA member to turn a routine sweep into an urban firefight. While the local armed forces were busy with that nonsense, survivalists started fighting over food supplies. ‘Love thy neighbor’ turned into ‘Kill thy neighbor and take his food.’ It’d be a lot less depressing if we could be a little more surprised at the frequency of all that backstabbing.

Me? I’ve got enough food for a while. I got my hands on a bow, and I’m learning to hunt the old fashioned way. I got a water purifier. I’m headed up into the hills. Ol’ Death is coming. Maybe he’ll burst from the ground in a spray of fire. More likely, eventually someone will decide that some sort of nuclear strike is in order. You think they saved enough fuel to fire off a couple of ICBMs? I would bet they ALL still work. And I don’t intend to be anywhere near anything when the atomic sunrise happens.

If you’re reading this, it means life went on. If you’re still in a city, you might think long and hard about how safe it is. I’m disappearing into the woods with a couple of my buddies, and I don’t think we’ll be coming back.

-Anders Johnson


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