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Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Sci-fi · #978397
As the apocalypse draws closer, a band of misfits search for comfort in the last days.
The Last Days


Silence. Even the air was still. Silence and darkness yawned out over a cold barren plane. Then, as if from nowhere, a light, so blinding I could hardly see. Was it another attack? Or just some prank played by the Tundra kids? Who knew? You could never be sure these days, but people were always alert, always on edge. It could come any day now.

A far distant crackle of charged thunder. The ominous rumble of the earth as the shockwave passed beneath our feet. Eno crouched in the corner of our bunker, desperately clutching at her shoulders. The place had an air of distinct terror, like some overcrowded mental asylum. Lighting blinked, on, off, on, off. The dark hulk of Nenet, our resident mutant was slumped motionless in the corner.

We had been stuck here for a desperate four days. The maurauding Klan Fighter, who had once occupied the bunker, now lay in a decaying heap by the doorway. The stench was awful, but we had gotten used to it. A wrecked bunker wasn’t the choicest of homes, but anything was better than the open dead lands.

“Wish this would all end,” growled Nenet, “It would be good to not worry about living every day”.
“Don’t say that. Better not to talk about it,” muttered Eno.
I kept silent. Whatever happened, It would arrive.

The end was near; you could feel it in the air. The stale reek of destiny, the dark, cold cloud of fate.

Ever since the first Klan invasion, the sky had been grey. It would never brighten, the alien Klan had made sure of that. Earth was now just a rotting slab of humanity, drifting through a devastated solar system. The Klan would move out now, leaving behind their old game. Go on, slowly and surely, to play havoc on another plant, another race, another people. We were but one pawn, in an endless game of intergalactic chess.

In the dull sky, lights flashed incessantly. Eno whimpered and I walked over to comfort her. I could feel her thin body, shaking under the threadbare cloak.

“What will happen after all this?” Her quiet voice drifted up to me, trembling slightly.
“I don’t know. I really don’t know.” I sighed, “There might be hope.”
Nenet chuckled, a deep throaty laugh.
“Are you kidding? There’ll be nothing left. Just chunks of rubble, floating around in the endless expanse of space. There is no hope. Not now.”

At a noise from outside, I drew my flash pistol and shifted to a secure place by the window. Cautiously looking out, I moved my firearm for a clearer shot at the intruder. Something scurried past the window ledge. I relaxed. Only a raccoon.

For another hour, I stood alert by the window. I was not going to let my guard down again. The dying sun was sinking over the barren wasteland like a defeated battleship. Crows swooped over the scarce scrub. They fought desperately for even the smallest morsel. I was like the birds, lost and hungry, but unable to do anything about it. These were the last days. The final throes of a once strong people. Who could say what had gone wrong? The world had slowly been tearing itself apart for centuries; this was just the last cut. Humanity, holding on by the thinnest strand, was about to fall.

It was a shame. We had once done great things. Invented the television, created the nuclear bomb and formed the first ‘Evolved Human’. These same things had destroyed us and left us with nothing. They had lain open the way to our final death and destruction.

In the open air, a white bird fluttered past. It seemed to be the only thing not touched by the darkness. I smiled to myself.

Eno struggled up from her corner and stumbled over next to me. She stared thoughtfully out of the window.
“You know, I’m not scared anymore,” she whispered.
I held her close.

Outside, the wind whipped up and in the coldness of the night, the sky bore down in a heart-stopping silence. Then, a blast, so loud it deafened the ears. One huge wave of noise, rippling across the land. Blinding light, Eno’s face staring up at me and…clouds.

* * *

© Copyright 2005 Renocchi (genzb at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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