Gray Skies

After the bombs went off, our lives got turned upside down, and things we had known all of our lives suddenly became uncertainties. I was barely eight years old when the bombs went off, and now I’m nearly double that. They weren’t nukes, or so the Government told us — not that you should trust those liars to start with. It’s easier to say what they weren’t, rather than what they were, because truthfully, we’re still not entirely sure what they were. I mean, they were your typical dummy bombs that massive planes dropped from high in the gray sky — isn’t it strange how I remember the weather conditions that fateful day? At first, nothing really happened, except some buildings being destroyed from the impacts, but nothing major, like explosions or anything like that. We woke up the next morning, and everything was still mostly the same. Of course, the Government was in a sheer panic, but that was also typical of any Friday morning, truthfully. A week or two went by, three, four, and still nothing really looked out of place.

It wasn’t until close to the summer time did we really notice any major changes. We had begun to think that whatever apocalyptic scheme they had cooked up was just a hoax. It’s hard to describe who “they” are, other people I guess, that the Government has been fighting since before I was born. Even the Government had begun to think that they had misjudged the end of the World as we know it. Some of my friends and I had gone to the lake to go swimming, it was at least two months after X-Day — that’s what the locals call the day the bombs dropped. It was the first time in a while anyone had gone swimming in the lake simply because it had just been too cold to shed our clothes and jump in. We swam, played games, built sand castles, I think the adults even cooked a couple hotdogs on a grill. It was after that when we understood things had in fact changed on X-Day. The next day, the city was in a state of panic, realizing that overnight a good chunk of the people who had gone swimming had changed.

Their bodies had morphed, like they had been put on extreme diet and work out plans. Their eyes glowed in the darkness, their teeth had become razor sharp blades in their mouth. They stalked the streets, looking for anyone they could quickly over power.

They had become monsters, overnight.

At first, it was only a handful that had gone to the lake and had gone swimming. I don’t know why I wasn’t changed, I was swimming like everyone else. But my best friend Jeremy did change. Soon, their numbers had grown and we had our very own little pack of these things. Citizens of my town formed a citizen’s watch, in order to protect the people. News was strictly controlled about the outbreak, but through some backwater channels, we had learned the rest of the country was in a similar state. The Government formed the Civil Patrol, in order to “protect” the average citizen. They do a pretty good job of keeping the fangs — that’s what we call them — at bay, but the CP also does a pretty good job of abusing their power. Citizens are expected to conform to the CP’s directions, failure to do so resulted in punishment. At best, it was an electrified baton to the gut, or across the back. At the absolute worst, it was a public hanging.

There are some certainties in today’s age, though. For one, don’t go swimming in the lake. It’s still contaminated, and we don’t know exactly what causes one to change into the fangs. For two, don’t let the CP catch you on the streets after curfew, it won’t be pleasant. Another thing, never let Old Man Brown catch you stealing food from his garden because you’re hungry. Teens and kids go missing from near his house all the time, and the CP doesn’t even pretend to care. Lastly, when they set off the bombs, the codes to do so had been downloaded onto an encrypted drive, which was disguised as a heart shaped locket. The locket that was very similar to the one my mother had given me before the CP hauled her away for her supposed crimes.

I used to wear it around my neck, the gold chain it’s on lets it fall right in the center of my chest, directly beside my tattoo from a popular kid’s anime. I wore it everywhere, but out of instinct tucked it away in my pants pocket when I would take my shirt off to do work. I stopped wearing it when the CP made it extremely clear they were looking for that heart shaped locket. Anyone who it was known had ever had one was arrested for interrogation. I guess my instinct to hide it had been right, after all. Now I keep it carefully hidden inside of the hollowed-out-heel of my combat boots.

The stupid locket is how I got myself dragged into the Underground Resistance Force, or the URF. I sought them out, knowing that if the CP wanted the locket, they probably would want it, too. I can’t say if I’m glad I was right about that, or not. The URF does a dirty, hard job trying to fight the CP with guerrilla warfare tactics, smuggling people through the checkpoints, trying to feed people, etc. Every day is a new battle in the never ending war zone that has become my life. I’ve spent the last six months fighting with the URF, chasing answers that I’m not even sure exist anymore. I know there’s more to this locket, because I know my mother wouldn’t have taken part in creating those things. Of course, it’s hard to deny that there’s a lot of evidence to suggest she had taken part. After all, she had the locket that contained launch codes for bombs that had turned people into fanged, bloodthirsty monsters.

Today, under gray skies and angry looking clouds that threaten rain, we might finally have some answers. We found a computer with enough power, and still connected to the net, and that we can connect to their network. We found their decryption key, and downloaded it to this computer. We’re going to try and decrypt it, and see what is really on this drive. Maybe that’s why I’m writing this memoir. I don’t really know who will read it — my brother was taken by the CP, and Jeremy, well, I’m not sure if he’s even alive anymore. Perhaps I’m just writing it in the hopes that someone will read it and understand more about our situation than I do. Maybe I’m just writing it because at heart, I’m still a scared kid who was thrown into the deep end of the pool, or in this case, lake.

I’ll be back shortly, it’s time to see if there’s some answers to this mess.

The decryption actually worked. That’s crazy, right? I know, but it actually worked. Unfortunately though, we’re left with more questions than answers. When they created the bombs, they used research from the laboratory that my mom worked in. My mom’s lab had a leak, someone that was selling secrets to the other side. It’s clear from the data, that my mom had found out, and had tried to let the Government know what was happening. Naturally, the Government didn’t listen and told her she was paranoid. That’s when she downloaded as much data as she could to this locket, knowing that someone would be able to piece it back together. The CP had found out about this well after the fact, that’s why they came that day and arrested her. That is basically the extent of what we do know.

The research that my mom downloaded is crazy advanced genetics, chemistry, biology that very few people left in the world actually understand anymore. After X-Day, education took a major hit, it was one of the first things that was cut. Most people really couldn’t afford the luxury of learning and studying things, especially not when they were focused on survival. So, we have no idea how this research created the fangs. We don’t even know how they got it into the water supply — specifically how it got from the bombs themselves and into the water supply. The good news is, there might be a guy on the other side of the gorge that can make sense of all of this. Of course, he went radio silent a week ago and no one has heard from him since. That’s where we’re headed now, to try and figure out what happened to the good doc.

I fear that when we get there, we’ll get plenty more questions, and precious few answers. We don’t even know if this guy is still alive, and if he is, that he hasn’t been taken by the CP. And, if he’s still alive, not taken by the CP, we don’t even know if he’ll help us. It’s a possibility he’ll just try to shoot us, in which case, we’ll shoot back. Then there goes that lead in a hail of bullets. We have to try, though, right? Especially if he can make sense of this. Maybe there’s some sort of cure that can be reverse-engineered from the research. Maybe we can start to undo some of this, start to put things right. That’s why we have to try.

If you’re reading this, run. It’s already too late for us, the fangs got into our bunker. It’s probably too late for you, too, because they’re probably watching you read this right now. It won’t be long before it’s all over for you, too. If you’re lucky, and you make it out of this hell-hole bunker alive, tell people we tried. Make sure our story gets told. And if you’re not so lucky and get slaughtered down here, look for me on the other side. Tall, lanky guy, with messy flaming red hair and vibrant green eyes. Can’t miss me.

But mind my fangs when you say hi.