Post by WxMAN on May 13, 2019 12:25:00 GMT -6
Businessman. Millionaire. Entrepreneur.
That's who I was before the end of the world. I made my money in the resource wars, exploiting anyone I could to climb the ladder. I had it all: trophy wife on my arm and a mistress in every zip code across the country - even a cute daughter. A fully latchkey luxury life.
Then the bombs fell.
Someone I must have stepped on during my rise to the top found a way to get me removed off of the vault suite I was promised. I hid in a storm culvert with my family and a bunch of other schlubs. We spent the next few months scavenging for food, water, and enough medicine to keep people alive for another day. I got to watch my wife and daughter slowly die, even after I had murdered men for their medicine. Their passing hurt less than it should, with our fellow culvert dwellers sharing more stories and shedding more tears than I had for them. With the sickness overtaking me, I went further into the radiation zone than anyone had previously in a desperate bid to find some better medicine. Unsuccessful at finding any medicine, I was too weak to return, and collapsed on the floor of some god-forsaken building - ready to die.
I woke up sometime later. I don't know what happened, but I slowly felt better. I returned to the culvert but when my hair began to slough off in hunks and my nose melted from my body they kicked me out for the 'safety' of the rest of the group. The next few years I learned how to survive on my own, mainly by hiding in the radiation zones that most other creatures couldn't handle. For some reason the longer I spent in these areas the stronger I felt. It took decades for the survivors to begin to crawl out of the fallout. It became obvious to me over that time that God had ended the world again, this time with flame instead of flood, due to its wickedness and it needed to be rebuilt. The irony is that it would be from the hands that most took from the world's wickedness that this new world would be build and learn from the failures of the past.
I have walked many miles and set up many settlements, trying to redeem the sins I lumped on the world that was. Teaching the smoothskins how to survive and eventually thrive. Until the day the world has been turned right and monsters like me can finally grow old again and die.
That's who I was before the end of the world. I made my money in the resource wars, exploiting anyone I could to climb the ladder. I had it all: trophy wife on my arm and a mistress in every zip code across the country - even a cute daughter. A fully latchkey luxury life.
Then the bombs fell.
Someone I must have stepped on during my rise to the top found a way to get me removed off of the vault suite I was promised. I hid in a storm culvert with my family and a bunch of other schlubs. We spent the next few months scavenging for food, water, and enough medicine to keep people alive for another day. I got to watch my wife and daughter slowly die, even after I had murdered men for their medicine. Their passing hurt less than it should, with our fellow culvert dwellers sharing more stories and shedding more tears than I had for them. With the sickness overtaking me, I went further into the radiation zone than anyone had previously in a desperate bid to find some better medicine. Unsuccessful at finding any medicine, I was too weak to return, and collapsed on the floor of some god-forsaken building - ready to die.
I woke up sometime later. I don't know what happened, but I slowly felt better. I returned to the culvert but when my hair began to slough off in hunks and my nose melted from my body they kicked me out for the 'safety' of the rest of the group. The next few years I learned how to survive on my own, mainly by hiding in the radiation zones that most other creatures couldn't handle. For some reason the longer I spent in these areas the stronger I felt. It took decades for the survivors to begin to crawl out of the fallout. It became obvious to me over that time that God had ended the world again, this time with flame instead of flood, due to its wickedness and it needed to be rebuilt. The irony is that it would be from the hands that most took from the world's wickedness that this new world would be build and learn from the failures of the past.
I have walked many miles and set up many settlements, trying to redeem the sins I lumped on the world that was. Teaching the smoothskins how to survive and eventually thrive. Until the day the world has been turned right and monsters like me can finally grow old again and die.