The Remnant
The stench of sulfur filled what was left of fresh air as the remaining bodies continued to burn while we hid, choking on our fear of what’s to come for the few of us who are now the Remnant. Golden rays broke through the thin plywood pieces covering the windows of the daylight basement. This place below the ground once held standing-room-only parties where the smells from the grill made you hungry even if you had eaten before you came, and the music took you back to the moment you fell in love, no matter how many times. We laughed during dance-offs and cheered during football season. We made room for family and loved ones here. The summers were good, but the falls were nothing short of amazing. We enjoyed thousands of fall sunsets and autumn moons right under the covered deck just through the French doors that were now barricaded behind broken pieces of plywood, a table, and a few chairs stacked about eight feet high. We had no idea what was left of the outside. We’ve been down here so long, we’ve lost track of time. What happens when the sun decides to stop setting? We have no idea when to sleep without night. The screams have stopped, at least the human ones have. We occasionally hear these archaic wails that sound like the dinosaurs from the classic prehistoric world movies. The only difference is these pterodactyl-like creatures are a thousand times louder.