The end of the world really sucks.
I knew it wasn’t going to be fun—no one ever associates the endtimes with good times—but I figured I’d at least be somewhere safe when the meteors hit. Or dead. Not trapped in my office building with a gun nut, a former Boy Scout, and a golden retriever. Yeah, yeah, spare me your chuckles; I can’t help that we’re a perfect little post-apocalyptic family unit. But seriously, how are we supposed to deal with Armageddon if we can’t deal with each other?
We’re stuck, you see. The meteors wiped out a heck of a lot of infrastructure, and rescue is slow in coming. And did I mention the dead are waking up and shuffling around?
Oh, yeah. The dead. They keep coming after us, and there’s more every day. I think they’re hungry.
Very hungry...
Approximately 36,000 words.