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The Very End

Or maybe it is beginning (part 1)

By Devin McGurk-NixonPublished 3 years ago 4 min read
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The Very End
Photo by Darklabs India on Unsplash

Humanity could not live peacefully with each other anymore; most have died during the Nuclear Fallout or the small wars that lead up to World War 5. I wasn't alive during the other World Wars, but my Grandmother June told me stories, how millions of people died, the anarchy that unfolded, and the famine that followed each war. During the previous World Wars, the countries involved always threatened to nuke each other into abomination but only ever pressed the red button to launch once. A group of Christian terrorists hacked into every country’s nuclear weapon system, they called themselves the Raptures. They were ready for the end of the world and thought it was the only way for humanity's sins to be forgiven was for all of us to die.

I left Camp Delta with a small group of other survivors roughly three weeks ago. If you stay at Camp Delta, they assign you a job for you to receive what little rations remain. I am a Seeker; my job is to try to scavenge the Wasteland in search of supplies that haven't been contaminated.

There is another camp 812 miles northeast of ours, which is our destination. We plan to kill those who are sheltered there, take their supplies, and burn it down, leaving no traces behind. That is if we even make it there alive ourselves. The rules of crossing the Wasteland: there is none. Those who do live there are completely ruthless, most have turned on each other to cannibalism since very little can grow anymore. The kids who were born in the Wasteland suffer from many birth defects due to the high amount of radiation. They listen to nothing, often forming groups of their own as they grow older. They hunt other survivors down, usually torturing them till finally decide to feast upon you, we call them Wolves.

We have never tried to cross the Wasteland before but supplies and food are at a critical level at Camp Delta. The Triad of Camp Delta ruled to send Seekers to this other camp because we have already scoured every inch in the Safe Zone. Crossing the Wasteland feels like a death sentence, but I know if we weren't sent to find food, antibiotics, and clean water for the others then our fate would still be death.

We started with a group of 18 Seekers, but after an attack of Wolves on our third day, there are only 5 of us now. My calf was sliced open during the attack, and I fear the other Seekers will leave me behind, I can't run, and the Wolves will follow the scent of my blood, it is only a matter of time before they find us again. I've wrapped my calf with an old shirt but with a cut this bad it is bound to get infected.

Our makeshift map puts us just one more day of trekking away from the camp. We found a small shack that is surprisingly still standing and decided this is where we will stay till morning. The other Seekers are unpacking their sleeping tarps, I am hesitant to unpack mine, but sleep is calling my name. Just one more day Rose, I tell myself.

I awoke to find myself alone in the shack. I am not surprised at the others choice of leaving me behind, I would have slowed them down too much. I unravel myself from the tarp and get my bearings. My mouth is dry, and my stomach is crying for some food. I pack my stuff into my backpack and sit in the corner of the shack. Debating if I should just sit here and wither away or try to make it to the camp by myself.

That is when I see it. In the other corner of the shack there is a small painted marigold flower, it looks too fresh to have been there long before. Before I left Grandmother June told me and only me of all the Seekers Camp Delta sent, that the camp would be close to a marigold. She told me this so I could use it to my advantage if our group ever split up or turned on each other, I would have been the only one to know where the camp was.

Then I hear a knock right underneath me and a pair of eyes staring at me from a crack in the floorboards. Instead of being terrified, I laugh, they hid their camp underground but in plain sight. It makes sense as to why this was one of the only standing buildings in about 5o miles.

------------ End of Part 1

Young Adult
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About the Creator

Devin McGurk-Nixon

Navy veteran, wild writing imagination, dog lover, and avid coffee drinker. Enjoy some of the stories that still float around in my head.

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