FICTION | SHORT STORY | THE SCRIBER’S NOOK

The Beginning of the End (Part One)

In order to survive, she had to make the long trek out of the city…

Thank you to Susi Moore for this fantastic prompt in Photo Prompts — Musers and Scribers! The Walk- Photo Prompt 2.

The city had become a wasteland, with only the occasional face popping out to survey the wreckage. Britt was one of the last ones standing. She’d been reluctant to permanently abandon her once comforting apartment, for the unknown out there. Up until this point she’d only left for scavenging runs.

And she’d done pretty well. She’d managed to gather enough food and supplies these past weeks. But all of her usual places were dried up and she had a decision to make; take her scavenging runs out further or make the long trek out of the city.

It wasn’t a choice really. She’d always known it was coming. It was an inevitability. She couldn’t stay hold up forever. She just didn’t think it would happen so fast. And she was hesitant to leave the only home she’d ever known. The home her grandmother raised her in. It held such fond memories.

Honestly, if it hadn’t been for that, she would have left during the first evacuation. Lately, she spent her time over analyzing that initial decision. There would have been safety in numbers. Now it was just her against the city and the creatures that came out at night. The creatures that had taken over.

She estimated that it would take three days to reach the bridge, and that meant two nights of hiding. Two nights of finding hiding spaces that were safe enough. Two sleepless nights of remaining perfectly still and silent. But she had no choice. She had just enough supplies to last the trip. And that was it.

She spent the better part of the day planning and organizing what she was going to pack. She considered the family rifle. But while it may protect her in the short term, the sound would just attract more of them. She had her grandmother’s walking stick that would do in a pinch.

She laid everything out on the dining room table and took a survey. She also had her long metal flashlight to serve as a weapon if necessary. To say she was worried would be putting it mildly. No one she knew had seen one of them. No one that had lived anyway. And before the power went out, before things got really bad, the news hadn’t been much help in that area.

Britt began the arduous task of carefully packing only the necessities. She grabbed one last item though, a photograph. She was seven, and her grandmother was pushing her on the swing set in the park down the block. It was one of her favorite memories. Her grandmother had given her a wonderful childhood. And when she got sick, and it came time for the roles to be reversed, Britt jumped at the chance to spoil her as best she could.

She finished packing and she gathered everything by the door. Her stuffed hiking pack, a sleeping bag and the walking stick were all that remained of her life now. And she would have to make do until she reached one of the refugee camps past the bridge. Her one saving grace was that her grandmother had taught her how to be self-sufficient from a young age.

She got into bed early and wrapped herself up tight. This winter had been particularly brutal and it took several blankets to stay warm. She put her phone on its solar charger by the window and set an alarm for five in the morning.

She was startled awake around three by screaming on the street below. She’d hoped to sleep longer, as it was the last sleep she’d be getting for a while. But if the screaming didn’t wake her up, the nightmares always did. She yawned and peered out under her covers. She was almost immune to the horror of the sounds that came from the streets at this point. She’d become detached.

But detachment was necessary now, in this new world. If you really sat down and thought about what was happening you’d start sobbing and never be able to stop. Britt didn’t have time for that. She had to save herself now. She had to reconnect with civilization. There was strength in numbers. And she was going a bit crazy, she needed to have people to speak out loud with.

The last time she heard her own voice was that first night. The first night they made contact. It was all over the news, and she was glued to her tv set as most people probably were. Their ship was hovered over the city, stopping all weather. It hadn’t snowed since they’d arrived. The creatures shot down in individual pods. And they spread out almost immediately, covering as much ground as possible. It was different now. Now they guarded the outskirts, catching weary travelers trying to escape.

But it was that first night that she heard screaming for the first time. She ran to her window and saw a woman on the street slowly backing away from something in the shadows. She cracked open the window and yelled to her, offered her help. She told her to hang on to the fire escape and she’d help her up. But she was too late. The shadow enveloped her and quickly retreated.

She figured she’d just get up, she never had much luck falling back asleep. She bathed and got dressed. The water was still working, so she was grateful for even the coldest of showers. Daylight was breaking and she was ready. She put on her pack and prepared for the trip down the stairs, away from her childhood memories. Away from everything she’d ever known. She looked around for what was probably the last time. She removed the steel bar bracing her door, turned on her headlamp and walked out.

Part Two is Coming Soon…

Thank you for reading my story. I’d love to hear your opinions.

You can check out some more of my writing and follow me here. (She, Her) I am a writer and a freelance editor. I edit all genres, and I specialize in Romance. I write a little bit of everything, whatever is on my mind at the moment. Get an email when I publish a new story.

Thank you for reading and supporting The Scriber’s Nook. We publish five days a week — Monday to Friday inclusively 🖋️🌟📚