The Fall

The Fall of civilization would only require less than a year. Strong words led to violence. Intense violence then led to war.

In case you weren't keeping up, here is the quick timeline.

After probing the resolve of the Western world, Communist China moved to take back Taiwan with ships and planes full of soldiers. The misplaced belief that a weak President wouldn't act was woefully wrong. The United States countered with its naval and air forces.

The dispute quickly got out of hand, with China losing ninety percent of its ships in one day. Using computer hackers, China shut down the power grid in the mainland United States, plunging a country into chaos. The US and allied militaries responded by blockading all Chinese ports. No goods moved in or out. China's 1.4 billion people quickly became hungry. China then activated sleeper agents inside the United States as well as the countries allied against it, releasing a bioweapon developed with funding from the countries it was used against.

The bioweapon worked even better than expected. The virus designed to adapt to any vaccine or treatment quickly; the plague was unstoppable. Out of ten thousand people who contracted the disease, fewer than ten would survive. The loss of doctors and nurses succumbing from contact with the first patients was devastating. The medical system completely collapsed within weeks. The domino collapse continued with the power, water, and food supplies grinding to a halt as the workers who maintained them walked away or fell at their posts.

Those in leadership positions were completely unqualified and unable to provide any leadership. After being elected on platitudes and divisive platforms, no real solutions could be found at the point when unity could have turned the tide. Information distribution networks were so corrupted by the enemies within and without that they too simply collapsed in that they were no longer trusted. Riots against the war were a moot point at that time as thousands of people dropped dead in the street.

A country and a world cried out for a decisive, trusted leader. Those leaders who could have made a difference were long gone, sacrificed on the altar public opinion warped beyond recognition. The horrible truth is that the last truthful story is that the whole thing happened so that a few could financially profit.

Previous plans and instructions were already in place and were followed. The US responded with space, sea, and land-based nuclear weapons, incinerating entire cities full of millions of people in a flash of light.

This last gasp demonstration of desperation would not save anyone. As the disease circled the globe, billions more fell. Ninety percent of the world's population died horrible deaths. Modern life stopped cold in its tracks. The complicated web of supplies, goods, and services finally collapsed. Living had only one goal, day-to-day survival.

"What do you mean you don't like it?" Steven asked with tears welling.

John glanced up from his oatmeal to look at his lover and companion of six months. Steven's athletic, muscular body, clad in tattered canvas coveralls, a heavy leather jacket, and a maroon wool beret. Dark blue eyes peered imploringly at him from a dirty face framed by long hair and an unruly beard.

John swallowed his last mouthful, taking time to frame his answer carefully.

"I didn't say I didn't like it," John replied. "I didn't say anything."

"I know that, sigh," Steven replied cattily. "I don't know what you want anymore. If you don't like the way I cook and try and make things nice, then you can cook for yourself."

Steven stood and quickly shouldered his heavy army backpack with this pronouncement, picked up the black rifle at his feet, and walked away from the campfire. John could hear sobbing fading away as Steven followed the blacktop road.

John sighed. The fights were becoming more frequent. Emotions today were far from the joy of finding another person alive in the world. To the brief romance of discovery, a routine had set in. He guessed they were a couple now, with all of the complicated issues that came with it.

Though married before the collapse, John had lost any caring about who he loved, only that he could find someone to love. After watching everyone he had ever known die in a matter of months, John just wanted to get through the day. Like everything else, dating in the apocalypse was not for the weak.

Steven had been under medication for emotional issues almost his entire life before the collapse. The small bottle of mood stabilizers they had found a month ago in a dusty, small-town pharmacy had long run out. The ensuing mood swings seemed to be getting worse, not better. John stood and stretched his rangy frame. Cleaning the bowls from breakfast, he wasted nothing. Food was still plentiful in the cities and towns, but it might not always be. Avoiding the gangs and tribes that controlled them was dangerous.

He packed up and shrugged into his backpack. Apparently, the small town they encountered had a complete mortality rate. It was a plum find, but they had to keep moving. Someone would show up sooner or later. New friendships did not usually result from these meetings.

Walking, following Steven, he took in the surroundings. As usual, the cars and trucks littered the road. The empty ones had run out of gas. The ones that had bodies had run out of time. John did not search them as he could only carry what he had with him now. Decomposing bodies staring at him through grimy windows held neither horror nor discomfort.

Those emotions could not be easily carried, so these too he had left behind. On the long trek from upper Maine, John had wandered South with the idea of finding a place with easy winters, taking up farming in a more temperate climate.

John had met Steven on the journey. John choosing for some reason to not immediately kill him as he usually would have to preserve his own life. He trained Steven to survive, and along the way, well, something had happened. It amused John to try and define himself as he would have before the Fall. Gay? Straight? Conservative? Black? None of those things mattered in the slightest anymore.

During the journey, John realized all of the noisy bullshit from both sides was never about the subject, only about power. Power for the people in charge to accumulate more for themselves. That, too, in the end, no longer mattered. Birds chirped around him in the forests of whatever State he was now in. It was incredible that most animals had not been affected by the virus.

Looking up, John could see Steven standing next to a shipping container blocking the road. Just standing there, not moving, waiting. The greenery around him rustled. The weather was comfortable in the early autumn. A soft breeze blew from his left to his right, caressing his sun-warmed face. John took a moment to close his eyes and listen, feeling gratitude for being alive at this moment, for finding someone to share this complicated, dangerous life.

John walked up and placed his hand on Steven's shoulder, and turned to face him. Steven's chin was on his chest. John thought he might be crying again but then noticed the thick metal spike that had impaled Steven through the chest. A simple deadfall design, a trigger attached to a metal pole welded to the shipping container. A large steel coil spring from a car suspension providing the driving force, the strength of the sharpened spike holding Steven up in death. John took this all in with little emotion, recognizing a trap when he saw one. Wrapped in Steven's right hand was a glimmer of gold, a heart-shaped locket.

John sighed and took the bauble in his hands, heavy, cold, and smooth. Steven had always liked shiny things. Tucking the locket into his shirt pocket, John took one last look at his companion and kept walking.

The sunlight shining on tears that wouldn't come.