Twelve weeks, an ungodly hour, and a choice after the fall.

  “Why?” I asked the night sky as I walked down the street. “Why is it that humans only show their true colors when all the cards are on the table? Can’t they summon courage as easily as they summon fear or anger?”

  It was a rare night, but nights like this were becoming more common the longer the world remained in chaos. The stars were breaking through the pollution for the first time in a very long time, and the smell of salt water drifted along a light breeze. It wasn’t enough to make my dress billow, but it felt nice against my skin.

  It was proof that good could still be found in a terrible world, if I was willing to look. Usually, I found that goodness in others. In their willingness to care, to lend a helping hand, and to enjoy simply being alive. Even in this blasted hellscape the planet had become, parts of humanity thrived because of that innate desire to raise each other up. But Humans could be strange creatures. They could be brave enough to fight a god one minute, and break under the emotional pressure of loss in the next. It was a paradox they would never acknowledge, but they would always embrace.

  I was so lost in my thoughts that I found myself outside a nondescript building several blocks away from where I started. A long tear marred the side of the building as if struck by the hand of an angry god.

  It was the same building Jim and I looted the day the Accountants took him. After that rage inducing event, I started stockpiling random weapons in an apartment just in case the survivors decided to one day stand up and fight. The chance was low, but tonight had proven just how useful that level of forethought could be.

  From the looks of it, the building itself was still perfect for hiding things without fear of them being found. Most of the walls were broken, the doors turned to splinters, and a stench of death clung to it like a graveyard.

  The smell had nothing to do with the exploded corpse in the stairwell.

  I climbed the broken stairs, carefully picking my way across the refuse until I reached the seventeenth-floor landing. The dented steel door squealed in pain and opened to reveal the hallway beyond, and closed behind me as I counted the doors. I stopped at the sixth door on the right, pausing for a moment to ensure the tape I’d placed on the doorframe was still there before turning the handle and walking into the apartment beyond.

  Inside, broken pieces of furniture were all that remained of the people who’d once called this place home. The floor creaked under my weight as I made my way into the second bedroom and stared at the small armory I’d built over the past twelve weeks. I had all my weapons laid out on a blood-soaked mattress, waiting for someone to pick them up and defend those who couldn't defend themselves. I, of course, was that someone.

  Most of these weapons were useless creations I built from spare parts that were more likely to cause a foe confusion rather than pain. Despite my efforts, I couldn't turn fruit into a boomerang, even if that fruit was a plastic wrapped banana lined with razor blades. A few others looked useful in combat, but there were a particular few that really caught my eye.

  Despite its origin as a massive dildo, the heavy material and nails made it a wonderful weapon for going on the offensive. But that also meant there was no reason to bring the other weapons I’d made from various objects around the city.

  I felt the comforting weight of “Cindy” in my hands. Part of me wanted the flail with a spiked doll’s head on the end of a chain, but I knew it was much more effective to bring the equivalent of a baseball bat instead of a flimsy ball and chain that would break after only a few swings. Turning to walk out of the room, I tucked a box knife into a hidden weapon belt under my dress. It would be much less useful in a straight fight, but it provided me with a blade I could use in a tight spot if needed.

  I climbed stairs stained with dried blood and stepped out onto the roof. It hadn’t been long since I’d left the survivors’ building, but the primal urge to see the sky was strong tonight. The moon and her stars looked down at me, judging me for what was soon to come. Would she mark me as worthy and finally let me die? Or would I be cursed to remain here for so much longer? Part of me wanted the curse to end so I could experience that last human mystery. But another, more savage part, wanted to hunt the threat plaguing my home.

  Despite my insistence on disappearing into the wild, the hunter took over. Pent up rage from multiple generations of advice bubbled up inside me, tearing at the walls of my restraint like a rabid dog.

  “Isn’t it funny?” I asked the night sky, hoping that my mother was truly listening from the other side. “It’s like a bad comedy, really. The caveman going into battle with little more than a heavy stick. For that is what I am, the eternal joke. Forced to live on so gods can have someone to laugh at. In most stories, I am the villain. They see me as the great betrayer of man, the cursed murderer. But worse people than I walk this earth every day, and yet I’m the one that cannot be laid to rest?”

  I knew the moon wouldn’t answer me. She never did. But on some level, it almost felt like I was back with my family as we talked about the world around us. My brother would’ve understood what I did that night. It was the way of our world back then. Survival of the fittest was more than just a saying when the very earth and everything on it wanted you dead.

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  An unearthly screech cut through the silence of the night and sent chills up my spine. Anyone that’s lived beyond the city limit knew that sound, and it was one I hoped never would have breached the city.

  Twisted creatures stumbled down the street, their mutated bodies making it hard to walk. I wanted to feel sorry for them, to return them to their natural bodies, but I knew what they really were. As one passed the broken remnants of a car, it reached down and tore the door off with sickening ease and sniffed inside.

  Some creatures were just trying to survive in a terrible world, but many had embraced their barbaric nature and become hunters. Living outside safe zones as a farmer was dangerous because of their existence. If they wouldn’t have become such a health hazard, farming would probably become a much more popular career.

  A creature with a dog-like face and a human body dropped to all fours and sniffed the ground, looking for a human scent. If it was looking for us, it would be out of luck. We hadn’t been in this part of the city in weeks, and the trail was long gone by now.

  Except for…

  It hit me. They’d caught wind of my trail and were following it to this building. When they finished searching and found nothing for the effort, they would follow my scent back to the survivors. Because why wouldn’t the mutated bastards find me? Out of all the smells on the street, they found and tracked mine. Fantastic.

  I had to get back; I had to warn them.

  Sure, their cowardice bothered me and was ultimately the reason I’d left, but being a coward was no reason to be killed. They were all but defenseless. Their only real protection was nothing but a few flaming cocktails and whatever weapons they could find on the fly.

  They had nothing.

  Tearing my gaze from the street below, I looked back at the stairwell. If I moved quickly and stayed out of their way, I could get back to the survivors before the mutated creatures had a chance to attack. There was no other option. I had enjoyed my stay in society and I couldn’t turn my back now.

  I didn’t hear the door close behind me when I turned to go down the stairs; I was far too distracted to notice the lack of a click as it closed. I didn’t hear the footsteps behind me, matching pace with my own, as I tore down the stairs in fear for a people I wanted to see flourish in this new world.

  I felt the cloth against my nose.

  Then, nothing.

  ~~**~~

  ~ The increase in illness in the US is due to high pollution levels in natural waterways, according to top CDC scientists… ~

  ~… storms are getting bigger and more powerful. Some believe it is the natural cycle of the planet, but research suggests that a severe reduction of emissions could lessen the effects with time…~

  ~… strange mutations have been found in families that have lived near nuclear sites for multiple generations. Some say it’s science, but we here at Hound News say that it's clearly a punishment for a sinful lifestyle…~

  “Why the hell haven’t they figured it out yet?” I asked the walls of my empty apartment, not expecting or wanting an answer.

  People say the law of unintended consequence always rears its head at the most inopportune time, but this was just too much. It amazed me that so many people still clung to a belief system I made up thousands of years ago to seize and hold power. Why they couldn’t see past the obvious issues and hypocrisy of my church, I’ll never know. I mean, really, I built a church based on love that actively sought to kill anyone that didn’t believe the same. Anyone can see how screwed up that is, but the moment you put something on old paper and claim it was written by a god, people will twist the message until it’s unrecognizable from its source.

  The news was more of the same. Pestilence, war, famine, and death raged across the planet and people were so numb to the experience they thought it was just another day. People shy away from talking about the current ecological shifts, often staunchly pretending the world has always been the same. The problem is that it hasn’t. This planet has survived several periods of glaciation, but life on its surface never seems to make it through without enduring deep scars. In fact, the humans of today look and act radically differently from my own ancestors.

  Sadly, even faced with intrinsic proof of evolution, creationists will still prefer the lie.

  I pushed the button to turn off the screen and stood up from the mat I used as a chair while grabbing the still full beer I’d forgotten to drink.

  The city before me was the grandest thing a sapient creature ever built on this planet. From where I stood, I could see all three rings and the temple to the gods of old. I could see the port. A lone vessel sat perfectly still in waters that hadn’t seen the light of day in thousands of years. Around me, magnificent buildings of white stone ended in twisting spires that could never again see the stars.

  But wasn't that the plan all along? When the beings who gave this world life were ready for their project to take on a life of their own had left, they sunk this place and buried it in stone. They did not destroy it; they hid it. Purposely tucking it away so they could hide its power for all time. What better place for an immortal to call home?

  I leaned against the wall and stared at the rocky dome above and thought about the people on the far away surface. They’d broken the world through willful ignorance and were now paying the cost. Years of pollution, deforestation, and expansion had led to a near catastrophic shift in the planet’s weather patterns. Even without extreme weather, some places still faced disastrous problems.

  The families changed by those nuclear sites wouldn’t just die off. They would continue to populate those areas, spreading and changing the world one generation at a time. Could this be the next step in evolution? Possibly, but it was much more likely it would end in a spur race that society would shun like rats.

  And that could be a problem. At a certain point, people would no longer see these people as human. They would start hunting them for sport, or treat them like a nuisance that needed to be disposed of. In the end, these mutated beings would be little more than animals, surviving on base urges and a desire to mate.

  Was it time to go back to the world of man? I’d spent nearly six hundred years down here, refusing to return to the surface. They had the Mars colony. If life on Earth got too bad, they could just leave and let me enjoy my barren rock. Maybe one of these world changing scientists I’ve seen on the news could do something.

  Perhaps it was time to return to The Library and find out if the ancients ever faced an issue like this. Certainly there was at least one tome capable of revealing the secret to containing mutations. If not, then it would appear that 2571 would mark the beginning of true solitude from which I could never escape.