The Great Unknown

The warmth of the sun washed over her shoulders as it broke through the scattered clouds. It embraced her for a few seconds longer than anticipated, as if it knew she needed its energy to carry on. Yellow tendrils forced a shadow out of her that loomed over the hill, the vision of a celestial being reborn. Atlas blinked at the sprawl of woods in front of her as she shifted in her boots, the sword attached to her hip acting as a makeshift leg brace. Whenever this was over, she promised herself she would become reacquainted with the star, bask in it like she used to do so long ago.

Having to remind herself that she'd been at this for only a year was never any less jarring. She almost didn’t remember what her life was like before. Who did she love? What was her job? What caused all of this destruction? The country's capital had never looked less familiar—from a bustling metropolis she’d roamed around with friends to a battlefield with leveled buildings and the forever stench of decaying flesh—this was no longer the city she’d grown up in. She always joked that if the world was ending, she’d simply die, what would be the point of carrying on? Until it happened. She’d attempted many times but her body forcibly went into survival mode. She didn’t know it was even possible for it to do what it had done to keep her alive—to pack on the muscles, to let the happiness and love leave her face, to hunt and to kill. It was cliché to say she didn’t recognize herself, especially since she’d never been more attuned with her body. Her once doughy features had been forged by the blacksmith into a machine that rarely felt pain, that couldn’t back down.

Sometimes she felt as if she was humanity’s last hope, though that couldn’t be true. Maybe in the confines of the borders that had been erected by neighboring countries. When news of “The Great Unknown'' surfaced onto the world stage, countries formed an alliance to keep it from spreading to their own citizens. Atlas’ own elected officials did a terrible job of hiding it from the rest of the world—they imprudently began firing on their own citizens and bombing entire cities. It was only fair that they would also be condemned to this hellscape instead of breaking free, as they expected they might. No, instead the veil between social classes had dropped and the poor and overlooked had ravaged the wealthy in their town homes and mansions. They were unprepared, assuming they would leave it all behind and continue on with their charmed lives. Atlas didn’t care to waste time on eating the rich, she was too busy building a shelter to wait out the storm.

It took weeks for the sounds of destruction and death to simmer down, the quiet hitting her as she stared at the wall in one of the buildings she’d holed up in. It was eerie, with a static in the air that raised bumps on your arms and caused your heart to palpitate. Reaching for a bat, she tentatively stuck her head out the door of the basement apartment. It was as if she’d walked off a spaceship into a different universe. In the early afternoon sun, a golden heart shaped locket glistened on the ground. She glanced from side to side, surveying her immediate surroundings for any danger. Stepping out, she reached to snatch the chain when a creature came crawling towards her, its body morphed into something otherworldly. She swung to keep it at bay as she found her back against the door. It hissed and with every droplet of liquid that dripped down, an acidic hole was left in its place. Atlas jabbed towards it as it got closer until she finally mustered the courage to step closer and began hammering the metal down onto what she assumed was it’s head. Finally, it stopped moving and she made a mental note to add spikes to her weapons. Then she puked. Twice. It was technically her first encounter with the creatures that had taken over her life and with no knowledge of how any of this worked, she figured the next logical step was to set it on fire. That night, she sat on the stoop of her temporary home with the necklace wrapped around her fist and watched the creature crumple and twist until it was nothing but ashes.

It scared Atlas at first, to think that this was the new normal, but the anxiety that had molded itself into her DNA had kept the thoughts on the edges of her mind while the sun was up. Those hours were best for hunting and forcing herself through the monotony of the life she’d begun to inhabit. Atlas had spent the past year hoping to meet any other human—wasn’t the heroine supposed to have some sort of sidekick? Or even a trusty animal companion? She figured there was a mass exodus from the cities while she was in her self imposed quarantine, or maybe that was what she insisted on believing to comfort herself. Because she’d seen body parts strewn aimlessly across blocks, counted way too many hands and legs. She tried to make peace with those that once belonged to someone, sometimes she’d even gathered some that she saw and tossed them in a mass grave.

Atlas figured she’d become somewhat content with how the apocalypse had unfolded but some weeks after she comprehended that it had been a year, she realized she couldn’t stay put any longer, no one was coming back to this city to look for her. She needed to know if there was anyone left inside the walls. Gathering supplies, she stuffed as much as she could into a grocery cart, and began walking on the main road out of town. It only took an hour or two for her to come across a gaping hole in the highway, one so big that she’d never make the jump, especially with a cart. Atlas knew she was surrounded by hills that were covered by forests but she also knew she had limited time to find shelter for the night.

She pushed the shopping cart up the tallest hill and collapsed next to it, finally able to see what she’d left behind. On her left was the highway, in front and to the side of her were woods as far as she could see but behind her stood a city she realized she didn’t recognize anymore. It’s once gleaming buildings and bright lights were now ghosts of what had previously been. She felt a pinch behind her eyes, the pain of the past year beginning to wash over her like waves. She missed her home. She missed her parents. She missed her friends. She missed her life. She missed the familiarity and comfort of a life she took for granted. There was an ache buried in her bones that attempted to claw its way to the surface, a whimper escaping from her lips as she mourned what her life should’ve been.

Then, she heard shuffling and hisses.

Standing, she pulled a sword she’d borrowed from the museum out of the cart and slid it into her handmade holster. Then, she picked up a wooden bat embedded with nails. The rustling grew louder in front of her and she let out a sigh. That mental breakdown would have to wait a few minutes.

“Any second now…”