Tuesday, February 7, 2012

Underwild

This is an urban fantasy concept that I had an idea for. I'm hitting the three thousand word ceiling; if I can break through preliminary writer's block this may go somewhere at some point. Comment if you like it.



            There wasn’t much to the note; just a few lines, etched in a spiking, arcane script. Martin put his backpack back on the couch, looking over the note.

            For answers, come to the Meeting Oak in the Rochester Atrium at midnight. All will be revealed.
       
        Martin frowned as he read it. Why would he want answers? More importantly, who would think that they have answers about his life? It’s not like it was a particularly complicated life, or even a particularly complicated existence. At times it was even…boring. Boring parents, boring job, boring major, boring degree. The school was the only thing that kept him from going crazy: a university the size of a small city always had something to do. Martin checked his schedule. It was an off night: he was going to hang out with some friends after studying a bit for a test in Civ. Why not? Might as well see who it is and what they want.

            Blackburn University was one of the largest, oldest, and most technologically advanced universities in the northern hemisphere. Located in what was once Boston, and was now the province of Greater Eastfall, its grey brick and black granite buildings were iconic and ancient. Massive pillars struck reverence for the several massive libraries they supported, august lecture halls of mahogany and black oak turned stone buildings into warrens for the learned. Jet metros ran between the buildings, sleek silver pods on shining black rails running to and from classes across the massive campus. Snow was coming to the northern university, and frost etched the paving stones like lace as Martin walked toward the Rochester Atrium.
            The doors were unlocked, and he stepped into the gloom of the maze-like artificial forest. The air was cool and damp as he made his way through the paths and around the many trees and walls toward the massive oak that stretched toward the high glass ceiling. When Martin reached it, he paused and looked around. Should he have brought a weapon? Would it be dangerous? He didn’t know.
            There was a pop, a small explosion of light, and Martin jumped backwards in surprise. Where no one had been only milliseconds early, a man stood. He wore a black leather jacket with a thick fabric hood, black fingerless driving gloves, black cargo jeans and, oddly, blue Puma running shoes.
            “I knew he’d come.” The man didn’t speak to Martin. Before Martin had time to wonder who the stranger was addressing, there was another pop, and another figure appeared.
            This one was very different. His face was angular, unhuman. Huge eyes glowed a deep violet in a dark face, and a feathery crest decorated the top of the creature’s head. On the creature’s back a strange, one-bladed sword was hung. He wore no clothes, and his body resembled that of a human, save for a fine grey hair across it. He was heavily muscled, and indigo tattoos covered his right shoulder and pectoral. He wore a broad loincloth of some kind of interlocking metal pieces that fit together almost seamlessly. The creature surveyed Martin with a kind of condescending interest. Martin didn’t know how to react.
            “Good…evening.” He said at last. He wasn’t dreaming, but what on earth was this? Some kind of elaborate prank?
            “Who are you guys?” He asked.
            “I am Lock Barosso, and this is Carus. We’ve been sent to bring you some good news.”
            “…worst news you’ve ever heard…” Carus mumbled, spitefully. Lock ignored him.
            “You’re going to want to sit down.”
            “I should have already been sitting.” Martin said, weakly.
            “Why bombard him with sudden information, Lock?” Carus snapped. “Give the boy a moment. I’m sure my presence wasn’t soporific.”
            Martin sat down on the stone base surrounding the oak tree, staring at the two.
            “You left the note in my backpack?”
            “Indeed. You needed to be informed.” Lock had a strange smile.
            “Of what?”
            “Well, not to sound melodramatic, you have a destiny that has yet to be fulfilled.”
            “And…”
            “We have an offer to make you.”
            “He has an offer to make you.” Carus murmured.
            “Wait.” Martin held up his hand. “First, let me ask you some questions.”
            “We don’t have much time, Lock.”
            “And we won’t if we…” Lock glanced at Martin. He smiled genially. “Proceed.”
            “Who are you?”
            “I am of an order known as the Bellmakers.”
            “Are you human?”
            “Not hardly.”
            “What are you?”
            “I am charged with protecting mankind.”
            “What are you?” Martin asked Carus.
            “I am a Suloc Paladin.”
            “Suloc?”
            “It’s a race. Can you get on with this?” Carus drummed his fingers against the stone. Martin saw that each slender finger was tipped in some kind of strange metal.
            “One more question. Why me?”
            “I was getting to that.” Lock said. “Follow us.”
            They took Martin through the winding paths and out the other side of the Rochester atrium. The university was dark and eerie, save for the phosphor lights glowing on the buildings and set into the pavement. Martin followed the pair across the deserted campus to the side of one of the main faculty buildings. The massive arches jutted out overhead as they stepped into the shadow. Lock took a strange stone pendant out of his pocket and ran it over the grey bricks. One of them lit up a dark blue, and he placed his hand on the brick. There was a sudden shift, and the panel of sidewalk they stood on dropped suddenly.
            Martin gasped and dropped to his knees as the concrete panel grated to a halt in a tunnel. Carus and Lock began walking, and as Martin followed them the panel slid back into place. What am I doing? Martin thought. This has to be the weirdest night I’ve had.
            They entered a small, circular room with a phosphor light glowing in the center of the room. A few chairs were scattered about.
            “Is this some kind of secret meeting room?” Martin asked. “Where the Bellmakers and Suloc can gather and perform eldritch rites in the dead of night and….” He paused, “drink Starbucks?” He kicked the container.
            Lock and Carus stared at him, mouths slightly open.
            “What?”
            “This is a break room for the maintenance employees of the university.”
            “Oh.”
            “Are you sure he’s the right one—“ Carus started.
            “Yes.” Lock said, sharply. “There’s no time to choose another.”
            “Okay, let’s get started.” Lock sat on the round central table. “I lied, this room is a secret meeting place. We don’t have much time to explain all this, so I’m going to go quickly. If you accept, your life is going to fundamentally change. If you don’t accept, you’ll never hear from us again, and you’ll only remember this entire sequence as a dream. Unfortunately, the consequences might be pretty dire, but we’re going to have to deal with that.”
            “Get on with it.” Carus snapped.
            “Fine.” Lock hurled a wounded look at the Suloc. “As you know, we are allies. We work together to protect humankind from a greater evil than you’ve ever even dreamed of. We stay in the background, protecting and serving, while you go about your daily lives. Unfortunately, all that has to change.”
            “Have you heard of Dracula?”
            “Yeah, the vampire?”
            “Sort of. Vlad the Impaler was a Transylvanian ruler who terrorized his people, killed quite a few of them, subjugated other lords, that sort of thing, until his people rose against him and killed him.”
            “Right, I’ve heard that.”
            “Well, what you don’t know is that Vlad the Impaler wasn’t human, and he didn’t die.”
            “And he didn’t do all that Twilight crap either. Blood sucking and wall climbing and whatever.” Carus interjected bitterly.
            “Right.” Lock sent Carus a “shut-up” glance. “He was a Morius. They’ve hated humanity since creation, and have exercised every bit of their power to destroy as much humanity as possible, or in the least, crush the parts of it that matter. The greatest villains that you’ve read about, were in fact Moriatic. Hitler, Stalin, Stonewall Jackson, Attila the Hun, Caligula, Nero, Draco, Rameses II. In fact, the only human oppressor was Machiavelli.”
            “And the only one to write a book on how to do it.” Carus examined his fingernails.
            “Vlad the Impaler is the High King of the Morius, and he is preparing to launch his greatest attack yet. The danger has never been greater for Blackburn University. The Morius are waiting to launch a full scale attack against the university and completely obliterate it in a way that you can’t comprehend.”
            “How?” Martin asked. “I’ve never heard of anywhere being just obliterated. That would cause a stir.”
            “Once every twenty-one years they gain enough strength two weeks before the new year to break free of their realm and cause havoc for twenty-four hours. This year, they’ve gained enough power to completely rip the university free of its anchor in this dimension and hurl it into another dimension, where it’ll be destroyed, students and all.”
            “So the entire University will disappear?”
            “Worse than that. Anything associated with it will be completely erased. Books, newspapers, memories, roads, signs. The entire fabric of your reality will shift, and fifty thousand students and faculty and two square miles of campus will be completely destroyed without a trace in memory or land.”
            Martin shuddered, feeling suddenly ill. “But why me?”
            “You’ve heard of Erik the Red?”
            “He discovered North America.”
            “He was of the race that you are,” Carus said, “the Aelis. You are an ancient race, but each of you is born without knowledge of your destiny. You are destined to rise up and protect those around you from the Morius.”
            “There’s only one of me?”
            “At least in this province.” Lock looked at Martin closely. “You need to help us. Without your strength, we will never be able to destroy Vlad, and without his death, mankind will continue to suffer under the attacks of this invisible foe.”
            “Have there been other places that have been attacked by the Morius?” Martin asked. The room seemed to be getting colder.
            “Have you heard of Roanoke? The lost colony that first came to America?” Carus asked.
            “Yeah, they couldn’t find it.”
            “That was a botched job by the Morius you call Draco. Same with Atlantis. They destroyed the place, but the memory wipes and deaths didn’t match up right, and some rumors still exist. More important targets have been struck. El Dorado was a target that was partially destroyed, and the fountain of youth was a relic, but among recent strikes were the town of Oakhaven, Iowa; Endridge University; and Helmsedge Scotland.”
            “I’ve never heard of those places.”
            “Of course you haven’t. They did a more thorough job.”
            “They sent Attila.” Carus mumbled. A sudden sound made the creature bolt upright.
            “We don’t have much time.” He warned Lock. Lock looked grim.
            “If you do help us, you’ll save your University, and the deeds accomplished in one dimension do not go unnoticed in another. You’d be revered by those who have no idea why they feel the respect for you that they do. You’d have all the wealth, power and influence you could ask for. The date that the attack will commence is only a month away. If you agree, come to the oak tomorrow at midnight, and we’ll begin the training necessary.”
            There was a clatter down the tunnel, and Carus whipped his sword out.
            “Now, Lock.”
            “Remember, they cannot harm you until you decide to, but if you do, know that we’ll be protecting you.”
            An unearthly moan drifted down the tunnel, and heavy footsteps scraped. Lock made an arcane gesture, and Martin was in his dorm room. 





2

           
            The day floated past like ink in a current. Beyond the walls of the classroom he knew that there were adventures to be had, glory to be won, and battles to be fought. Matrix-like, he knew that if he decided to take the challenge, life would never be the same. What about the things that he loved about normal life? Hot pizza on a cold day, the curve of a beautiful woman’s face, a smile from a friend, a lazy afternoon. Would he be able to enjoy them as well? Lock’s words kept echoing through his head: …they’ve gained enough power to completely rip the university free of its anchor in this dimension… What kind of enjoyment could he possibly have when even if he escaped, he would know that he abandoned thousands of people to their doom? By his last class, his mind was made up.
            Lock and Carus didn’t bother using the same appearing trick they had the night before; instead standing and waiting for him as he approached them that night.
            “So you decided to accept?” Lock asked.
            “Bring it on.” Martin took a deep breath.
            “Very well. This must be done soon.” Lock said. “Carus, keep an eye out.”
            Reaching into his pocket, Lock procured a ring. It was a simple band of black metal with an iridescent sheen, four tiny sapphires set in it. Martin took it, surprised at how heavy it was.
            “When you put this ring on, you are going to awaken the Aelis in your blood, meaning that you will permanently see the brother dimension of your own; the dimension that the Morius live in. You will straddle both dimensions, and jump from one to the other to defend your race. Your tutelage will begin immediately afterwards. Put it on your left middle finger.”
            Tentatively, Martin slid the ring onto his finger. There was a sudden rush of ice through his body, and he shivered. His vision flashed black and red and gray and a howling noise thundered in his ears. As quickly as it had come, it all stopped. Martin looked around him. Colors seemed more vivid, and sounds were sharper. He felt quicker, more agile, more powerful.
            “Selocta.” Carus warned. Lock turned, black as shadow. Martin stared where Carus was looking. A hideous creature crept through the trimmed bushes that made up the undergrowth of the atrium. Lock grimaced.
            “As the day grows near the Morius will send their minions to cause havoc in the world of men. The more chaotic a place, the more chance of total annihilation they have.” The creature gave a low moan. Wolflike, it trotted on all fours, a huge mouth dripping with razor-sharp fangs. Without warning, it lunged, crossing twenty feet or more with a single bound. Carus moved first, striking with an armored glove. The blow struck the flying monster across the face with a  heavy crunch. It spun, moonlight gleaming on the bone-white fur. Carus spun his unsheathed sword in a fencing grip as Lock pulled a pistol crossbow from his jacket as Martin backpedaled. The selocta lunged again, teeth snapping down on Carus’ arm as the latter plunged the blade into the creature. Its scream was muffled through the meat of Carus’ arm as the Suloc yanked the blade free, dripping orange blood. Lock jammed the crossbow under the selocta’s jaw and pulled the trigger. The shining head of the bolt punched through the creature’s skull as it writhed, and dropped off of the Suloc’s arm.
            Carus stumbled backwards, clutching his arm. Lock crossed to his friend and sat next to him. He waved his hand over the wound and muttered a word. The skin and muscle knit together instantly, and a second later all that was left was the blood smeared on the Suloc's skin.
           


Monday, January 23, 2012

Cataclysm IV

This is the final excerpt I'm going to post from this story for a while: I'm not going to serialize it.



Chapter 4



            The next morning we both rose as early as made sense, and after donning our snow gear, we left my apartment. I carried my sledgehammer, and Melody a crowbar I’d given her.
            Snow had fallen in massive heaps, suffocating everything under a huge blanket of snow and ice. The city was almost silent, sounds muffled by the snowfall under the indigo-grey sky. In the long distance, a wolf howled, the sound ricocheting off the skyscrapers of downtown like a phantom’s cry. Cars were spun here and there, some of them demolished, others seemingly unharmed. Bodies were in many of them, frozen lumps welded to the wheel of their vehicle with the cold. Melody gritted her teeth and shuddered when we passed too closely. Here and there fresher bodies lay in the street, some appeared half-eaten, some more unnaturally damaged, with long gashes to the face and neck, or a skull crushed in. Anarchy was beginning its long rule, I knew.
            We reached Hancock’s Sporting Shop within a couple hours of walking. It was dark, and appeared oddly unmolested. The windows were in place, the doors seemed intact. We walked closer.
            Inside, a flashlight suddenly played across one of the front windows.
            “Someone’s inside.” I told Melody.
            “They could be dangerous, we need to be careful.”
            “Follow my lead.” I walked through the alley at the side of the store to the service door at the back, and swung my sledge like a battering ram, smashing the catch. The door sagged open, and I pulled my guard flashlight from my belt, shining it into the dark room. Nothing dangerous caught my eye, and I entered.
            The backrooms were quite expansive in the store, and it was obvious whoever was in there had not heard our entry. Melody crept next to me, taking everything in.
            I stepped into the sales floor of the store, and the figure noticed us.
            “Ha!” He shouted, turning. A raised gun pointed at us. “Trying to sneak up on me, eh?”
            “Who are you?” I demanded.
            “Who are you?” He snapped back.
            “I’m Simon Mensa. I’ve come for supplies with my friend, Melody Wright. I am claiming this store, and you will be allowed to take your pick of things when we’ve finished.”
            The stranger obviously seemed confused that I was giving ultimatums when he had the pistol trained on us, and the strangeness of it seemed to discomfit him.
            “Or,” I continued, “You can join us for companionship, food, shelter, and assistance. We need all the help we can get.”
            “How many of you are there?” All I could see was a silhouette in the dim light, but he seemed to be less hostile.
            “Just us two, but I have plans to find more survivors and begin to rebuild what has been lost.”
            The figure lowered the gun. “I would like that. I really would.” He stepped forward, and I saw it was a young black man, wearing a knit cap and a ski jacket. “I’m Darius Seeley.” He gestured with the flashlight at the pile behind him. “I work—used to—work here. I’ve been gathering some stuff.”
            “Well, the first thing you need to know is that that gun isn’t going to work.”
            “What?”
            “Try it.”
            He pointed it at the front windows and pulled the trigger. There was a solid pop, and the shell dropped from the barrel. The casing ejected with a jingle.
            “What the-“
            “Something must have changed when the world did.” Melody said. “Guns don’t work anymore.”
            “So I was threatening you…”
            Melody laughed. “You could have threatened us with a hamburger patty for all the good it would have done you.”
            Darius broke into a sheepish smile. “I guess I feel like a proper idiot.”
            “One of the first things we need are weapons. There are a lot of looters and thugs still going around, and we’re going to need some means of protecting ourselves. Did you sell crossbows?”
            “Over here.” Darius walked to a corner of the store, and Melody and I followed. She was smiling broadly at him, and he kept glancing at her. Briefly, I felt a flash of something. Jealousy? Anger? I crushed the thoughts down and tried not to think about them.
            Hancock’s had eight crossbows in stock, as well as three or four recurve bows and ten or so compound bows. I took down all the recurve bows, and four of the crossbows.
            “We never know when we’re going to need food or protection, and how many other survivors we’re going to come across.” I told Melody and Darius. “We should try to get as many supplies as possible in this one run.”
            “How are we going to carry them all?” Darius asked. Melody grinned suddenly.
            “I have an idea.” She ran behind the sales counter and got up on the countertop. Behind the counter were the kayaks, and she pulled one down. Losing control, she almost fell off the counter, and then dropped it. She grinned at us as it dropped down, and then awkwardly pulled the other one off as well.
            “We can make a sled to carry the things we need back to your house, Simon.”       The idea was excellent. Darius and I roped the kayaks together as Melody found three pallets in the back that we could put on the flat tops. Using bungee cords, we began tying the pallets down onto the kayaks, creating a sort of rough sled. Together we piled the bows, crossbows, and survival gear onto the sled: fishing poles, rope, an anchor, tents, sleeping bags, flint and tinder lighters, jackets, axes. While Darius and Melody did this, I picked up a long machete from the hiking section, and an eighteen inch survival knife from behind the counter. It was going to get worse before it got better: there was no sense in being unprepared.
            As we were about to go, there was a suddenly rhythmic sound, and I glanced out the large front windows. Five men on horseback trotted toward the store from down the deserted street. They stopped in front of the door and dismounted. One of them, a giant of a man, stepped toward the door after pulling a fire axe from the saddle. With a sudden motion he smashed the front door open.
            Melody shrieked, and Darius stepped in front of her. Like me, he had a machete, and he stood shoulder to shoulder with me, watching the men approach.
            The giant spoke first as the other men stepped through the ruined entrance.
            “Well, hello there.” His voice was smooth as oil, but a note of danger rode the edge. “I hadn’t realized this was someone else’s territory.”
            “We were gathering some supplies we needed to survive.” I told them. “We’ve finished, you are welcome to whatever is left.”
            “Or, we’re welcome to whatever is in the store.” The man said smoothly. “On your pathetic sled or not.”
            “This is ours, and we need it.” I said. Darius shifted beside me. “I don’t want to resort to violence. There is plenty to go around.”
            The leader stepped forward as his men stood behind him, pulling out weapons of their own. “I don’t think I’ve made myself clear. My name is Jack Fortenbleu, but you will refer to me as Axe. In the advent of the fall of any semblance of government, I have graciously agreed to lead these fledgling societies to achieve greatness and rebuild to our former glory.” He stepped forward and smiled, stretching out a gloved hand. “So, will you follow me, or will you go your own way, starveling wretches huddled in the snow?”
            I thought about it for a second. I didn’t trust the man as far as I could throw a dishwasher, but what he had said made sense. As soon as I considered that, a thought dawned in my head, incoherent at first, but rapidly gaining traction. This man was obviously after his own gain, using a powerful idea to secure his own power. But if there was another society that could offer some hope, help in these dark times then maybe mankind would have something to live for, and not be forced to survive under a petty tyrant.
            “Your offer is most kind,” I said. “but I feel that I would be more comfortable striking out on my own and being my own man. I cannot speak for my companions.”
            “I’ll stay with Simon.” Melody said. The speed of her answer surprised and flattered me.
            “How many of you are there, Axe?” Darius asked.
            “We have gathered fifteen survivors.” Axe said. “And we will continue to grow in numbers and power.”
            “I think I will stay with Simon as well, then.” Darius said.
            Axe took a deep breath, not smiling anymore. “Very well then. But know this: I will bring this entire city, this entire continent, under my control. And your little faction will be enemies to me, because you will be taking my provisions, my territory, and sapping my authority. If we meet again, we shall meet as enemies, and not as potential allies.”
            He seemed deadly serious, and from the look of him, he could easily follow up on his promise. But a chance of living alone and unmolested, able to gather those around me that wanted to rebuild, as opposed to living under someone who wanted to gather others under him, and build his own wealth and power made for an easy choice.
            “I understand.” I told him. He signaled his followers, and they stepped out the door. Axe faced us.
            “You have now heard of us, the Iceborn. Do not forget that name.” With that, the giant man stepped out the ruined door, mounted his horse, and trotted off, followed by his soldiers.
            “Where did they get the horses?” I asked.
            “Elysia Mounted Police.” Melody said. “I saw the crest on their saddles.”
            “Well, that means one or two of them might be in the mounted police.” Darius said. “They had to get into the stables, and they’re attached to the prison.”
            “Whoever they were, they’re dangerous. We can’t afford to let them track us.”
            “That won’t be a problem.” Melody said wryly, pointing outside. Snow had begun to fall in fat gobs, covering the already frosted ground with a thick layer of snow. The buildings farther away were soon obscured from view.
            “We’re going to have to go back to your apartment.” Melody said. “It’ll be pretty dangerous in the snow.”
            “It’s too small to accommodate three of us comfortably.” I said. “The Emerson hotel downtown will be a good place to camp out.”

Cataclysm III


Chapter 2



            I didn’t know her name, but I knew who she was. She had been summarily the object of affection/lust for half the guys in the complex when she moved in with a female roommate. During the summer, they had rarely worn much more than a bikini top and shorts, and spent most of their time lounging near the pool, or driving around in a red Jeep Wrangler one of the girls had. When the roommate moved out, she stayed, and her comings and goings stayed of great interest to the eligible men of the complex. I stayed out of the news, but every time a male visitor came to her apartment, speculation would run like disease as to who it might be. I had heard she was going to school for art, but I didn’t know if that was a rumor.
            Right now she was huddled on my bed, having wrapped my comforters around her. She sat there, shivering like a tiny mountain. I sat looking through some survival books I had gathered over the years.
            “What are those?” She asked, pointing to my wall. I glanced up and saw what she was looking at.
            “Fencing awards.” I told her.
            “As in, building fences?”
            “Swordfighting.” I said. “I was a fencer in college.”
            “So those came from winning competitions?”
            “Yeah.” I felt vaguely embarrassed, but somewhat proud. I’d never had anyone to show them off to, besides my teammates.
            “Were you pretty good?”
            “I was B rated,” I said.
            “That’s good?”
            “Well, you have to win in a competition that consists of quite a few people and most of them have to be A’s and B’s.”
            “Wow.” She was quiet a moment, and then said “Why didn’t your gun work?”
            “I’m not sure. I don’t think it’s just my weapon, though. I think that something has qualitatively changed about our world. The gunpowder exploded, just not with the force needed to propel the slug very far.”
            “Do you even know what happened?”
            I briefly explained what had been planned for the night before. She looked disgusted.
            “So, we’re going to be stuck in winter for how long?”
            “I don’t really know.” I admitted. “I do know that the earth is moving toward the sun at a gradual pace, but that’s an incredibly tiny increment.”
            “Can we just spur on global warming?” She said, half-kidding. “Run our cars, use up plastic bags…”
            “I don’t know if that’ll work. A lot of the data was gathered over such a short time some people believed that the warming trend was cyclical. Which means that your actions probably had little to do with global warming as it was presented. And if gunpowder won’t combust correctly, there are other changes that might have occurred in gasoline engines as well.”
            “So cars won’t work anymore? Global warming was caused by humans.”
            I shrugged. “Not really. The twentieth century was among the coolest in human history.”
            “Then why would the government push something like this on us?” She asked.
            “Power?” I guessed. “Never waste a good crisis. It allowed them more control.”
            She sighed and flopped backwards onto my bed. “It’s all so much to handle. No more swimming or popsicles-“
            “The entire world is a popsicle,” I broke in.
            “-or beaches or summer or watermelon.” Her voice started to shake.
            “Stop.” I said. “You can’t think about it that way. We’ll find a way to reverse the effects.”
            She sat up. “I suppose you’re right.” She gave me a suddenly curious look, and laughed. “I haven’t even asked what your name is.”
            “Simon Mensa.”
            “I’m Melody Wright.” She smiled. I suddenly felt slightly out of sorts and turned away awkwardly.
            “I need to do some planning. You should get some rest.”
            The apartment fell quiet as I picked up pencil and paper.






Chapter 3




            Since time was practically nonexistent, as the bluish orb hanging in the sky appeared to never move or change color, I switched my digital watch to military time. It was apparently four in the afternoon now, but I didn’t feel tired. According to the calendar and what memories I could drag together, the event—or The Cataclysm, as I had dubbed it—had happened today: January first, 2021, at 6:17 A.M. GMT. I resolved to begin keeping an accurate calendar as far as I could, and schedule rigorously to avoid losing my mind. As Melody slept, I started piecing together what I knew of the event that had so drastically altered our world. I started writing.

1.      Earth has been fundamentally altered and is in the midst of a severe ice age.
2.      Some, if not all, forms of combustion appear to be obsolete. Gunpowder among those.
3.      Sunlight, moonlight, or natural day and night cycles are altered qualitatively. There appears to be no distinction between night and day.
4.      Radio waves are possibly obsolete: no radio signal, not even white noise, has broadcast.
5.      Electricity appears to still function normally.
6.      Much of humanity appears to have suffered some sort of shock-based aneurism of the brain. From data collected, survival chances are around ten percent, but data is too incomplete to form hypothesis.
7.      Government appears to be at a total collapse as a result of genocide.
8.      There have been no broadcasts on television.
9.      The internet has been destroyed.

I stared at my list. Just the first three things were overwhelming, and I felt sick looking at the rest of the list.
There was a way out, right? Firstly, without firearms, the world would revert back to melee weapons, so I needed, first and foremost, to gather a supply of hand to hand weapons, or forge my own if the need struck. Secondly, survivors were going to need to stick together, much as Melody and I had done. Looters and gangs were going to run rampant, and the government was a non-issue. Thirdly, food sources were an issue. When canned food ran out, how would we cook food? Gas-run generators might not work, so some other form of electricity to cook food, or perhaps gas stoves, would be necessary. Liquid propane grills might work as well.
            The first thing that I needed to do was search the building for more survivors and supplies. The second thing was find a sporting goods store: they would have the items I needed to begin this harsh life.

            I awoke with a start. Melody was standing over me, wearing some kind of fluffy robe and a blanket draped around her shoulders.
            “How long have you been sleeping?” She asked. I groaned and sat up on my couch. The propane heater I had set up was still glowing at the other end of the room, taking the edge off the chill.
            “Not long enough.” I rubbed my face.
            “I need to call my mother.” Her voice was small. “I want to make sure she’s all right.”
            “I doubt your phone or mine will work.”
            “I tried, my cell is dead.”
            I tried to see her expression in the dimness. We needed candles, badly.
            “My landline is over there.”
            She tried it, and a moment later slammed the phone down. She sank down, back against the wall and started to cry.
            “Did it not-“
            “No!” She screamed. “Of course it didn’t work! Nothing is working!” She broke into fresh sobs.
            Helplessly, I moved toward her.
            “Don’t touch me!” She screamed. I raised my hands.
            “Okay. I won’t. I’m leaving, I’ll be back in a few hours. If you want to stay with me, then you can. If you don’t, you’re welcome to leave. Just lock my door when you go.”
            I put on my snow gear and stepped outside, closing the door behind me. She’d be gone by the time I returned, I knew.
            The rest of the apartment building was quiet, the sun, I guess it was, hanging still in the icy air. I found a sledgehammer in the caretaker’s shed behind the office, and began to go through the apartments, knocking the door in where necessary. Every home, every room displayed the carnage of the cataclysm. Bodies lay in pools of frozen blood, some of them from whatever unknown shock had killed them, some of them from looter’s hands. I filled pillowcases with things I would need: scissors, can openers, canned food, some candles, blankets, pillows, knives when I found them. In one apartment I found some skis and poles, and I took those as well. With each house I felt more and more despair. No one had survived the initial destruction, it seemed, save Melody and me.
            I returned when the low hanging sun began to lower further. I had been wrong when I thought there was no difference, day seemed to be a cool blue light, about seven hours long, and whatever night had become was fast approaching.
            Melody was inside when I arrived, and I dropped the supplies I had taken. She gave me a half-smile when she looked up from my small Coleman stove she had pirated from somewhere in my apartment.
            “I thought the least I could do is make us something to eat.”