Surviving the Fall

Surviving the Fall

by

S. R. Jenkins

I remember growing up there was always talk about doomsday. Arguments on how the world would finally end. Somehow zombies was always in the top ten, right up there with a nuclear war. I never understood how so many people were sure the dead would rise up and take out the world.

Then again, what really happened seemed completely impossible until we were living it. Most called it The Fall. Some referring to it in the biblical sense, seeing it as a fall from grace in His eyes. Some meant it in a technological sense, since almost overnight the electronic world we'd all come to rely on so heavily, well, fell. However they came up with the name, it fit, and it stuck.

I was fourteen when the Fall happened. Some idiot playing with “new and advanced science” that was supposed to create a better world, instead managed to crack the earth open like an egg. I still don't understand the full logistics of what happened, since the government was very hush-hush about the whole thing. Keeping their secrets all the way up until there was no government left to protect.

The religious zealots were closer then most in predicting things. The Fall came with a great blast, and the world was covered in fire and brimstone. The hole that was ripped into the earth itself wasn't the main problem, although tens of millions died in the explosion. What truly began the Fall was the doorway that was ripped open in the blast. Some say we punctured a hole straight into the fiery pits of Hell itself, others say we ripped into space and time creating a portal to a whole different world, or dimension.

Honestly, the what and where weren't as important as the creatures that came pouring out. Within weeks the blackened crater that had once been downtown Dallas was over run. The ones who had actually seen the creatures and lived to tell the tale spoke of great winged beasts, standing between eight and ten feet tall. Skin ranging from red to black in shades, and great horns curling over their almost humanoid features. So we called them Demons, although not everyone agreed, it didn't matter much when you were running for you life.

Within 3 months of the original explosion over seventy percent of humanity was gone. A fraction of that due more to our inherent greed then the Demons themselves. People formed groups, and everyone wanted what some other group had. While some tried to regain a foothold in their towns, still others were prepared to come take what had been gained when the smoke cleared.

Within the next year we lost another twenty percent or so. Billions of people killed, and those of us left, struggling to find our way in a world gone black. Our technology lasted about a month before the demons took out enough power stations to put us in the dark. Most of our cities were razed, only burning piles of rubble left.

It was discovered that the demons couldn't handle certain climates, and so most of what was left of humanity fled north, to the snowy tundras, hoping to rebuild and one day take back our world.

That was 15 years ago. In that time all we'd really managed to do is fight among ourselves. Some days I was sure what was left of human-kind was determined to finish what the Fall had started. I spent six years in one of the colonies, in what was once Alaska, only to find that in some ways we were no better then the Demons. When my parents died, in yet another war we somehow kept waging against ourselves, I decided to take my chances in the south. I'd been living alone, on the outskirts of what had once been Chicago, for almost 9 years now.

The smell of sulfur permeated the air. It always did near the cities. I think what surprised us most when the Demons took over, besides their very existence, was that they didn't flock to the cities. They burned many of them to the ground, so that all that remained was ash, but they didn't stay. Instead they seemed drawn to secluded places, or large bodies of water. The created their own communities, of sorts, in the middle of forests, beaches, overgrown wheat fields. The doomsday preppers of old certainly got a shock when Demons started building right on top of their "secluded bunkers".

I picked my way through the rubble of what had once been a nice suburban town, it's cookie cutter houses not so uniform any longer. Some houses still stood, mostly. You never knew what you would find in these old abandoned places. The center Old Chicago, like most cities, was the gang territory, and had been picked clean of anything valuable.

The further you got from the city center the more dangerous it got. While most of the demons were content with their hold on the world, there were still the Maraud, the foot soldiers who were always searching for any stray humans they could find. No one was sure what happened if you were caught, only that those captured never returned.

The crunch of glass under my boots seemed loud in the early morning silence, causing me to wince. I'd honed my skill of moving undetected, and silently throughout the years. You had little choice if you wanted to survive. I couldn't afford to become distracted, to lose focus. I shifted my pack on my shoulders, starting to feel the weight after the four hour walk it had taken to get here. I was further out of the city then I'd ever been, but my old hunting grounds had been picked clean, and if I wanted something worth trading, I had to branch out. If I was lucky I'd find a house not completely destroyed by the demons or weather, sometimes the latter doing more damage then the former.

As I picked my way along the narrow space between squares of destruction I tried not to let my mind wander. Keeping a keen eye on my surroundings, not wanting anyone, or thing, to get the jump on me. There was so much overgrowth here it was like another world. The frozen north was, well, frozen. The city center was a mass of debris, with small burst of green where the gangs tried to grow food. But out here, after fifteen years, nature was doing its best to take back the land. There was a strange beauty to it.

One lone phone pole still stood, its wires trailing uselessly toward the ground. While the entirety of the pole itself was covered in some vining plant, shot through randomly with bright purple blooms. The shell of some kind of car was completely entombed in overgrowth, and judging from the subtle chattering coming from inside, was now home to some sort of creature. All around signs of life could be found. It was almost enough to make you forget, just for a moment, until you looked closer. Because, just under the shiny film of new life, the clear signs of death still shown through. Looking closely into the car I could just make out the skeletal remains of the previous owner, curled into what had once been the backseat, a heart-shaped locket still clutched in it's lifeless embrace. There were a few other identifiable remains dotting the weather cracked asphalt, scattered over the years by the elements. A reminder of all that was lost.

I quickly moved on. Billions had died during the Fall, and sadly you become almost numb to finding corpses. The sheer number making it impossible to grieve them all and still remain sane. In this new world, it was everyone for themselves, and one day at a time.

I crept my way toward one of the more stable looking houses. Taking care to test the ground with the long spear I carried. It was almost funny how quickly us humans had reverted back to our primitive weapons when ammunition became scarce. Skirting around a few suspicious looking spots on the weather warped porch I made it to the front door.

A quick check told me whoever had left had taken the time to lock the door. Probably in the foolish hope that they'd return one day. Easing over to the shell of a broken window I carefully lowered myself into the house. Surprisingly the inside was fairly clean, the requisite signs of animals wandering through not withstanding. I made my way around the place, taking anything worth trading and stuffing it in my bag. It was a good haul, and I already knew I'd be miserable by the time I returned to the trading post near the city center, due to the added weight I was now carrying.

As I eased my way off the porch, and back onto what had once been the street, I froze. Instincts, honed over the lase few years of constant adrenalin fueled survival, telling me something was wrong. It took me a moment to understand what I was hearing, or better yet, not hearing. There was complete silence all around me, as if nature itself held its breath. I quickly took cover behind the burnt out shell of a minivan, and waited to see what was coming.

It wasn't long before the undisguised sound of footsteps could be heard. Whatever was heading this way sounded huge, and was making no attempt to hide. There was only one creature in this new world who traveled without the fear of discovery. Not wanting to be caught I slowly eased my way back, into the thick brush on the opposite side of the street. Judging from the sound there were at least three Maraud heading this way. Part of me wanted to drop my pack and make a run for it, but I needed what was inside if I wanted to eat for the next few weeks.

I kept creeping back, eyes on the trees, hoping I could make it to deeper cover before being spotted. I was about half way there when something unexpected happened. I could hear barking. We'd had a dog when I was growing up, but since the Fall pets were a thing of the past. Most now believed all animals were meat if you wanted to survive, and on days when the worst hunger hits you, honestly its better not to ask what kind of jerky you were eating.

A little way off to the left a mangled mutt came leaping out from under one of the more dilapidated houses. Even from this distance I could tell she was a new mother, her swollen teats, and raised hackle telling a clear story. I was lucky I hadn't tried that house, as the mama dog was clearly set to defend her offspring, even against Demons. Taking the distraction I'd been miraculously handed, I eased the rest of the way into the trees. Stealthy scrambling as far away as I could get. When I could no longer hear the incessant barks of the dog I turned, and with a quick and somewhat foolish prayer that the dog made it out too, I took off at a dead run.

I made the four hour trek in half that time, not willing to stop, eating my measly scraps of mystery jerky on the go. As the burnt out husk of half standing sky scrapers rose along the horizon, framed my the setting sun, I let out a breath. It wasn't much, but there were four solid walls in there, and a soft-ish bed that was all the home I needed.

It may seem foolish, but I was already planning another voyage back to the little suburbia I'd found. It was dangerous, but then, we'd already faced the apocalypse. This was just another day for me, surviving after the Fall.