The Few

by EctopicEntropy

The One: Chapter One: An Injury Leads to a History

The conspiracy theorists were right. The end was nigh. Past tense, of course, since the world has long since ended. I theorize that someone, somewhere, got fed up with there being so many nationalities, so he pressed a button and made there be two: The Survivors and The Sheltered. We, The Survivors, faced the end like humans always should; with dignity, grace, and a bare refusal to die. They, The Sheltered, were the conspiracy theorists or the children of them. They rode the end like a tidal wave, sitting cozy in their bomb shelters. Little did they know, though, that the end was a one-two punch. The nukes fell, yes, but they caused a seismic reaction, and the Earth split like an egg. Many of the shelters were ripped in twain as the Earth did the same, meaning The Sheltered are as few and as respected as The Survivors.

So, we live in a post-apocalyptic utopia, right? No, not at all. It turns out the religious junkies were right, too. Hell, in all its glorious forms, is real. And the only thing keeping it back was the crust of the Earth. And, in a final strive by some unseen hand to end the humans, the hell spawn bred with ‘normal’ Earth creatures. Then everything mutated. In short, it’s hell on Earth. Squared. Every day I fight for my life against demonic, mutated panthers, packs of wolves with a hierarchy based on head count, demonic goldfish, and hordes of the undead. It’s a miracle I’ve lived long enough to cower in this hole and lick my wounds. My name is Charles McGran, Survivor. On the fifth day of the second year After The Fall, I found a journal.

I had recently had an encounter with a pack of wolves, and I had spent my last shell on the last pack of zombies. Foolishly, I ran. Wolves, I now know, are the ultimate hunters. They chased me down, spilt my guts on the cracked pavement, then got into a fight with a mutated demon panther. Seeing this as my sign of good luck, I cradled my intestines and took off. You, the reader, may be wondering how I was able to do this. Let’s just say that I wasn’t untouched by the radiation. I found, on the first day A.T.F., that I had developed incredible pain endurance and strange regeneration powers. The regeneration was slow, but all I needed to do was keep things inside, like my intestines, and I would live. So I hoped.

But, I digress. I was running, intestines in hand, and found a hole in the wall of what must have once been a manmade river. It closely resembled a coyote’s den, but was clearly once occupied by a human. Just who this human was was told by his journal, in a satchel near the entrance. I bound my wound and, having nothing better to do, took a peek into another man’s life.