The Birth of the New World

It’s about two hours later that I find myself hiding in the remains of an abandoned house. The path home is practically a straight shot home, but I am not the only one that uses these roads for travel.

Peeking through the window of what used to be a child’s bedroom, I watch as the small troop of beings march down the ruined road. Standing between two to three and a half feet tall, their bodies are like that of dogs mixed with a bipedal lizard. They hold small makeshift weapons of wood, stone, and scrap metal held together by strips of leather or whatever else they can find. They wear barely any clothes on their small bodies; typically, nothing more than a loin cloth.

I don’t know if they have a name for their race, but I’ve taken to calling them Kobolds. Among the monsters that have appeared on Earth, they are the most common type that you are likely to run into. Besides goblins of course, the little fuckers.

Unlike the goblins -which are most certainly goblins and can’t possibly be anything else- the kobolds are honestly pretty nice. Sometimes.

The little guys are pretty cute, and unlike other monsters they can actually be reasoned with to an extent. As long as you don’t attack them or try to scare them, they will leave you alone, or potentially even trade with you for stuff.

The problem is- and is why I am hiding- is that they are still monsters. A lone girl that is clearly injured is an easy target for a small band of armed kobolds.

Just like us humans, the kobolds are scavengers and thieves, if they can avoid a potentially dangerous confrontation they will. But if they find an easy target to gang up on? Well, there’s little reason not to if it gets them free stuff and food in their stomachs.

So, I’m hiding and waiting for them to pass. Thankfully I don’t have to worry about them smelling me as it just started raining about an hour ago, erasing my sent trail. So, I just sit here in the dark and watch them, trying to think about anything other than the pain in my arm and the complaints of my sore muscles.

They really are cute. In that ugly\cute way like a pug. I’ve always wanted to pet one, but they always get defensive if you get too close.

Their little spears definitely add to the cuteness; like little kids pretending to be soldiers.

Oh, that one in the back is wearing a hoodie. Haha, it’s big enough to be a dress on that thing.

Occupying my mind with useless thoughts, I watch as the little band of kobolds march away until they are out of sight.

I still have some distance to cover before I get home and I can already hear my bed calling my name. So, with great effort and a few curses, I force myself to get back up to my feet and continue my own march home.

It takes another hour of slow walking for me to finally get home. For almost four hours I had to drag my corpse-like body down the road to finally get here. Besides the kobolds, there were two other instances where I had to hide to avoid drawing attention from things in the woods. The two other times, I couldn’t see what it was that I was hiding from, but I could most certainly hear them. Trudging through the woods and knocking down trees as they walk, I would get low into the foliage and hide until I could no longer hear them.

But now I am home, back to our single-story home surrounded by the wreckage that used to be our neighbors’ homes. Our house was one of the lucky few to survive the earthquakes, still having four walls and a roof. A roof with a few holes in it, but a roof none the less.

We don’t sleep in the house itself, instead opting to stay in the basement. The main floor of our house has been left to ruin just like any other still standing house in the area; mainly being used to hold barrels of purified rainwater stored in the kitchen.

It’s far too dangerous to live above ground now, it just draws attention. So instead, we moved everything important into the basement and reinforced it in case of looters.

The fenced in backyard we converted into a garden for growing vegetables and herbs. Despite the constant rain and lack of sunlight, the crops still manage to grow, just like all the other plants and trees.

Speaking of trees, they completely surround our house now. They are a pain in the ass to chop down, but at least we are never wanting for firewood to feed the old heater in the basement.

Letting myself into the house, I already have the sense that something is off.

I don’t hear anything.

We normally try to keep quiet to avoid drawing attention to the house, but it is way too quiet. To cold, both literally and figuratively. Nobody is here.

I don’t even have to check the basement to find out, this is my home after all, and it feels deserted.

This obviously doesn’t make any sense. Dad has an injured leg and can’t walk well, mom has to stay here to care for him and the garden, and Anna promised me that she would keep an eye on them for me while I was gone. It doesn’t make sense for them not to still be here.

Unless they went to come find me? I’ve only been gone a couple of days at most, which is nothing too strange. And if they had, I would have seen them on the road. They can’t travel too quickly with dad’s leg.

Deciding that I won’t figure anything out just standing in the doorway, I quickly enter and relock the door behind me. Unlocking the multiple deadbolts on the basement door, I make my way downstairs and see that my feeling was correct. Nobody is here.

Quickly, I go around and turn on the lanterns. They are electrical ones that recharge with a solar charger in the backyard. Luckily it is small enough to avoid pissing off the monsters.

With the lights on it doesn’t take me long to see what is wrong. A lot of our stuff is gone, but it doesn’t look like we were robbed. My part of the basement is untouched, with a quick glance I can see that all of my stuff is still where I left it. And finally, I see that the old heater is cold.

“What the hell, where is everyone?!” I ask myself while looking around.

The basement is cold, and nobody is here. Nobody has been here for about a day at the very least. Walking around I check for any signs of where they may have gone.

It doesn’t take me long to find a note written by my mother on the table that we use as a makeshift kitchen counter.

Dear Elizabeth,

We are so sorry that we left without you. The military found our house while searching the area for survivors. We wanted to stay but the soldiers would not accept our refusal and forced us to come with them. We were only given so much time to pack our belongings and were rushed out of the house. Given the time that I could, I made sure to write you this note.

The soldiers told us that monster activity has risen drastically in the area, which is why they are evacuating as many survivors as they can find.

We asked them to send people to come and find you, but when we told them the area where you were at, they refused, saying that it was too dangerous in that area now and they didn’t want to risk soldiers for one person.

The military is pulling back with as many survivors as they can find to Fort Knox in Kentucky. We left you a map on the table. They have medics in their camps and will be able to help your father with his leg. Lastly, your friend Anna is with us. We will keep her safe so please don’t worry about her.

I am so sorry that we were not here for you. I will be praying every day for your safety and that you find your way to us. Please be safe, you are one of the few things I have left in this life. I would never be able to forgive myself if you were to die. I love you so much Lizy, please be safe.

Lovingly and full of regret, your mother, Josephine Dixon.

“Shit! Fucking damnit, GOD DAMN POODLE! Stupid fucking dog! It’s all its damn fault!” I scream at the top of my lungs.

If it didn’t nearly kill me, I could have been home before any of this happened!

While I was out cold beneath its rotting corpse, my family was getting evacuated. Instead of being with them, I was licking my wounds in some rotted out ruin. I almost died and was separated from my family.

For five cans of food…

………………….

…………

“Aaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!”

I break down and cry on the spot, collapsing down to my knees with the note crumpled up in my fist. My family is who knows how many miles away, and me, I’m stuck here in our cold basement with nothing but five cans and an injured body to show for my troubles.

I don’t know how long it takes for me to finally pull myself together, but eventually I manage to peel myself off of the cold concrete floor of our basement. Part of me wants to just stay there and die, but luckily the rest of me is more set on survival.

I am cold, hungry, injured, and exhausted.

Catching up with the military is impossible as I am right now, so I need to focus on fixing these four problems before anything else. Luckily, I am safe. I am home. So, I can focus on recovering and resting as much as I want.

To start, I get up and gather up some wood from the pile and chuck them in the old burner. We still have some lighter fluid in storage so getting the fire going is thankfully not too difficult with my one good arm.

Considering that I risked my life for it, I decided to dig out the can of beef stew from my bag. Unfortunately, can-openers are intended to be used with two hands.

One of the few lucky breaks I get to have today is that this can has a peel open top.

Holding the can between my boots, I peel it open to reveal its contents. Brown meaty broth with big chunks of carrots, potatoes, celery, and most importantly, meaty chunks of beef, greet me as I open my hard-fought prize.

Already I can feel my stomach grumbling, but I must wait. Gotta cook it first.

Getting back up I carry my prize over to burner that has been growing warmer and warmer. Setting the can on top of it to heat up, I move over to our makeshift kitchen and fetch a bowl and spoon. Setting them aside so they are ready, I fetch my bottles from my bag and head upstairs to refill my water.

The water barrels are filled with rainwater that we treated with iodine. If there is one thing that easy to source nowadays, it is water. Rainwater by itself is typically safe enough to drink on its own. But we preferred to keep it cleaner, so a good stock of iodine was one of the first things we sourced when everything went to shit. Just a couple of drops is enough to purify a liter of water, so we’ve managed to keep our water fresh for a while now.

Not that it matters anymore with everyone gone…

Shaking my head, I get myself refocused. Food and water are what I need to worry about right now, not my feelings.

Having refilled my bottles, I head back downstairs, locking the door behind me.

It smells good down here now and my stomach is making its desires known. Walking over I put on an oven-mitt and dump the stew into my bowl.

It doesn’t take me long to devour all of it. It was fucking delicious. I haven’t had beef in over a year and have been living off of nuts, veggies and any small animals we could trap in the woods. As far as I am concerned, those chunks of beef might as well have been a prime cut of A-Grade steak.

And now it is gone, slowly being digested in my stomach.

“Hah, at least I got to enjoy it while it lasted. And I didn’t even have to share it!”

…..

…..

Placing a face in my palm, “Come on, let’s try not to make myself depressed here. I still have to check my injuries…”

To say that I was not looking forward to this would be an understatement. Even now, my arm is radiating pain. I’m scared of what I’ll see when I take off the bandages. What the hell would I do if I find my arm rotting away? Amputate it? How the hell would I do that without killing myself?

I’m fucking scared, but I have to check it. I need to clean the wound and apply fresh bandages, or it will get infected; and then I’ll truly be fucked.

Getting my nerves under control I unzip and remove my jacket. My arm had been kept under the jacket, so it wasn’t exposed to the rain from earlier, but my arm is definitely soaked with sweat under those bandages.

Working as best as I can with one arm, I slowly take apart the splint from around my arm, setting aside the broken rulers so I can reuse them. Following that I get to work on the gauze wrap surrounding my injured arm.

The bandages fall away, and I am introduced to quite the sight.

The wounds are sealed.

Surrounded by angry looking purple bruising is a series of dark grey, almost black, scars where there used to be puncture wounds. The outside of the bruised skin is grey. Not the normal pale white of my arm that should be there, but grey. Grey like ash from the spent remains of a fire.

Looking at my arm I see that the grey has spread from the wound and has already reached my wrist where it has begun to encroach on the base of my hand. The contrast of where my skin used to be and where the grey has taken over is like looking at a forest fire slowly consuming everything it can touch, reducing everything to ash.

My arm burns and the pain is incredibly distracting, but now that I am actually looking at it, I realize just how much of the pain is actually coming from my wrist. It fucking hurts!

Whatever it is that is happening to my arm, it is spreading. I’m sweating, heart beating in my ears and heat building in my chest as I realize it.

“I’m already infected…”

My breath keeps getting faster as the words settle in my mind.

I’m infected.

With what? We don’t have any antibiotics or steroids. Hell, we don’t even have any pain killers left!

What am I supposed to do, my arm is turning fucking GREY!

Is it rotting? Is it going to fall off? What happens if it spreads to the rest of my body??!

WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCH WHAT THE FUCK?!?!?!

Haaaa Haaaa Haaaa…..

MMMMMnnnnnnnnnnnnn……

I’m hyperventilating, I’m going to have a panic attack. I need to calm down, but this is just too FUCKING much!

Desperately looking for any solution, my eyes land on something. My knife. Still sheathed on my side. Black rubber handle resting with its blade held in it black hard plastic sheath.

Gritting my teeth, with tears streaming down my eyes I grab it. Drawing it from its sheath I lay the naked blade against my arm. I can feel its sharp edge against my skin. It’s still blood-coated edge already threatening to open my flesh. Just a little bit more pressure from my shacking hands and it will start to go through.

I just have to cut it off, I can close the wound using the hot metal of the wood burner. I just have to cut off my arm. Cut through my skin, flesh, tendons and muscle and break my ulna and radius bones.

I can do it!

I can do it!

I can do it!

I can do it!

I can do it!

I can do it!

I can do it IcandoiIcandoitIcandoitIcandoitIcandoit!

………….

…………

……

“Aaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!”

Screaming, I throw aside the knife. And break down into tears. My body is shaking as I hold my face in my hand. My useless left arm hangs to my side with nothing more than a small cut to show for my effort.

I can’t do it! I can’t fucking do it! I can’t just cut off my own arm!

I’m infected, I’m in pain, and I’m alone.

Mom, Dad, Anna. I’m sorry that I went out on my own. Please come back.

Please!

At some point I fall asleep, curled up on the cold floor, exhaustion finally taking me into blissful unconsciousness.