Ready or Not, Here I Come
December 24, 2036...
The scent of gasoline overwhelms my nose and a sweltering humidity starts sticking to my skin. I rise from my chair, hearing an explosion from what I think is a mile away. A running woman carrying a child bumps into me, knocking the wind out of my lungs and my body onto the rubble beneath. Her head is shaking with tears tumbling down her reddish cheeks, moaning at me in a language I can barely hear through the cacophony of screams, gunfire, sirens. Grit lightly dusts her caramel skin and the boy in her arms is limp. I struggle to get up, and even when I do, the swarms of people dodging against me almost knock me down once more. Peering towards the sky, a plane whizzes by.
