There are purple skies with swirling clouds over my head. It reminds me of van Gogh’s Starry Night. I can see him stroking paint in clockwise swoops and swirls. I take a step forward, and a stick cracks under my boot. I just had enough time to get my boots on. My feet are stuck to the leather because I couldn’t spare the time it would have taken to put on socks. I knew it was going to be cold, and the only sweatshirt I could find was the old gray one with my initials on the front. I’ve been wearing it since I was in the eighth grade. It seems fitting that it would be the one shirt that I could find today. I stare off into the distance for one more moment. I breathe chilled air deep into my lungs.
When I turn to face them, I need to have a plan. They are counting on me to know what to do, where to go next. There are only six of us now; the others are sitting huddled close together in a circle on the cold wet grass. My father is seventy-five but as strong as ever, mentally and physically. His arm is wrapped tight around Julie, the girl that we found in the pile of rubble a few hours back. Her arm is probably broken, and she hasn’t stopped crying since we found her. Abby is sitting to her left. The orange scarf on her head is striking in contrast to the purple sky. The last four months have been so hard for her. I think losing her hair was the worst part. I went with her last week to pick out the scarf. She liked the white one, but I convinced her to go with orange. I never thought I would be so happy with the choice.
Molly was sitting on the other side of my dad, clutching the stuffed giraffe I gave her for Valentines Day. When it all started, I knew I had to find her. I couldn’t imagine her going through this without me. I needed to be there for her as much as I needed her to be there for me. Alone, I might have just stayed in bed curled up in a ball, waiting for it. She makes me stronger, braver. I would never let her see me look as scared as I actually am. She thinks I could protect her from anything. I really don’t know if I can protect her from this, but I will spend every last breath trying. When I kicked in the door at her house, she was lying on the floor, screaming. I could hear her calling my name from halfway down the block. Cell service had been down for almost two hours at that point. I grabbed her off of the floor and she wrapped her arms around me so tight it hurt. I threw her over my shoulder, but as I carried her through the doorway she screamed for me to stop. I put her down and she ran over to the table where the giraffe was sitting. On the very same table sat the four hundred dollar purse that her parents bought her for Christmas. She grabbed the stuffed animal and we started running. She always yells at me for going too fast for her because her legs are too short to keep up. I don’t know if it was because I ran over four miles to her house or if it was because she was so scared, but I actually had to try and keep up with her.
Now my mind is racing with possibilities of shelter, places where we could survive. I ask myself what it’s all for. What kind of world will be left if we do somehow survive? Maybe we could repopulate and start all over. We are a species of animals that grew so intelligent and so powerful that we came to change the course of existence for the earth, the planet that gave us life. Now there may only be six of us left, six out of billions. I laugh at the thought. How arrogant can I be to think that we are the last six people left on earth? We’ve only been surviving like this for the better part of a day. There must be stronger, smarter people somewhere who are doing a better job than I am.
“Okay, let’s get moving, follow me.” I said to my crew, the only people I have left. They all stand up, wary, but ready to follow; ready to trust me with their lives. As we started to walk, I noticed a little grin on Abby’s face. “What are you so happy about?” I asked her quietly behind the others.
She turned back at me and said, “I’ve felt so alone, every day since I found out I was going to die. Now I’ve lived to this day, and wherever we go, we’re all going there together.”
When I turn to face them, I need to have a plan. They are counting on me to know what to do, where to go next. There are only six of us now; the others are sitting huddled close together in a circle on the cold wet grass. My father is seventy-five but as strong as ever, mentally and physically. His arm is wrapped tight around Julie, the girl that we found in the pile of rubble a few hours back. Her arm is probably broken, and she hasn’t stopped crying since we found her. Abby is sitting to her left. The orange scarf on her head is striking in contrast to the purple sky. The last four months have been so hard for her. I think losing her hair was the worst part. I went with her last week to pick out the scarf. She liked the white one, but I convinced her to go with orange. I never thought I would be so happy with the choice.
Molly was sitting on the other side of my dad, clutching the stuffed giraffe I gave her for Valentines Day. When it all started, I knew I had to find her. I couldn’t imagine her going through this without me. I needed to be there for her as much as I needed her to be there for me. Alone, I might have just stayed in bed curled up in a ball, waiting for it. She makes me stronger, braver. I would never let her see me look as scared as I actually am. She thinks I could protect her from anything. I really don’t know if I can protect her from this, but I will spend every last breath trying. When I kicked in the door at her house, she was lying on the floor, screaming. I could hear her calling my name from halfway down the block. Cell service had been down for almost two hours at that point. I grabbed her off of the floor and she wrapped her arms around me so tight it hurt. I threw her over my shoulder, but as I carried her through the doorway she screamed for me to stop. I put her down and she ran over to the table where the giraffe was sitting. On the very same table sat the four hundred dollar purse that her parents bought her for Christmas. She grabbed the stuffed animal and we started running. She always yells at me for going too fast for her because her legs are too short to keep up. I don’t know if it was because I ran over four miles to her house or if it was because she was so scared, but I actually had to try and keep up with her.
Now my mind is racing with possibilities of shelter, places where we could survive. I ask myself what it’s all for. What kind of world will be left if we do somehow survive? Maybe we could repopulate and start all over. We are a species of animals that grew so intelligent and so powerful that we came to change the course of existence for the earth, the planet that gave us life. Now there may only be six of us left, six out of billions. I laugh at the thought. How arrogant can I be to think that we are the last six people left on earth? We’ve only been surviving like this for the better part of a day. There must be stronger, smarter people somewhere who are doing a better job than I am.
“Okay, let’s get moving, follow me.” I said to my crew, the only people I have left. They all stand up, wary, but ready to follow; ready to trust me with their lives. As we started to walk, I noticed a little grin on Abby’s face. “What are you so happy about?” I asked her quietly behind the others.
She turned back at me and said, “I’ve felt so alone, every day since I found out I was going to die. Now I’ve lived to this day, and wherever we go, we’re all going there together.”
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