Homeland

I opened my eyes as the dust settled around me. Smoke and ash clouded my vision. My ears were ringing. My heart was pounding. Through the darkness I could make out the smallest lights, flickering like a candle in the warmth of home.

For just a moment, I was taken back to my youth. The memories came flooding in. I was running barefoot through the yard, catching fireflies. I could feel the dewy grass beneath my feet. I remember baking with my mother. I could almost taste the warm, homemade cookies. I remembered birthdays, picnics and holidays. We opened presents early Christmas morning, sitting in front of the fire.

Fire.

Reality set in. I tried to stand up, but my knees buckled beneath me. The flames grew brighter. I forced myself to stand up and gasped in pain. I cried out for help, like someone was going to answer... but no one was there.

I put my hand up to my neck, searching blindly for my locket. Feeling the cold, silver heart beneath my fingertips, I felt relieved. Clutching it in my fist, I took a step. I gasped again; the pain more intense. I tried to catch my breath but only inhaled smoke and ash. I needed to get out. Gathering all the strength I could muster, I moved on.

Feeling my way through the darkness, my eyes began to adjust. I could make out the shapes of objects no longer used. They were strangely familiar.

Home.

The things we once held dear lay scattered and useless among the rubble. Memories were burned and broken. The faces of my loved ones peered at me from the ash. How did we end up here? I picked up what remained of the charred photograph and stumbled on.

As I walked through the remnants of our home, I looked at the world around me... well, what was left of the world as I knew it. There were no streetlights, only stars. The houses of my childhood friends were reduced to piles of stone and brick. Some were still smoldering. The noisy streets of my youth were now a desolate wasteland, barren and silent.

This is the stuff we used to see in movies. At one point in my life, I wondered what it would be like to survive the "end of the world," slaying zombies and fighting to survive... but now that I am here, it is just that. There are no zombies or plagues. There are no aliens. There is only the fight to survive. The streets and cities that we once knew may be gone, but the world is still very much alive... and I am not alone here.

I made my way into the neighboring streets, searching. I needed supplies. I needed food. The stabbing pain returned, and I looked down. The gash on my side spoke for itself. I needed aid. Fast. I went from house to house, ruin to ruin, gathering anything I could use.

I dragged on. I don't know what I was looking for... something, someone out here other than myself... anything to bring back a sense of what was normal. I looked toward the horizon and clenched my locket again.

Sunrise.

This new world is home to many things, humans and creatures alike. I have seen them for myself... but it is not the same. You become them. It consumes you. I have watched the ones I love turn into people I never knew.

So as the sky turned pink and the stars began to fade, I took shelter in a pile of debris. As I drifted in and out of consciousness, my father's words echoed in my ears. "Hide in the day. Move in the night. If you get injured, heal before fighting. Be strong. Keep your head 'til the night is done... and don't trust anyone."