Chapter One: The Remains
The explosion was the last thing she saw, the giant wall of fire morphing into the shape of a mushroom in the Mojave Desert where a diner once stood. All the possessed humans succumbed to the flames that engulfed everything in a wide zone, including her family and she covered her eyes, shielding her sight from the bright flash and the oncoming wave of heat.
The heat of the blast bowed everything around her, shriveling the dry grass surrounding the area and she ducked down into her hole, kneeling into a crouch position. The hot winds slowly died down and she rose, climbing up the poorly structured ladder that nearly broke her leg a few times when she had to go into hiding. Her fingers curled around a patch of burnt grass, pulling herself up and the ladder finally gave in, leaving her to dangle on the edge.
With a soft grunt, she pulled herself from her would be grave and surveyed her surroundings. The top of her hair was a little burnt, but she was alive. She carefully wandered over the hill, clutching her arm and heard a crash in the distance; miles from where she saw the four of the survivors take off.
She looked towards the sound of the crash, staring blankly as the whisper of steel being crushed from afar tapped against her eardrums and she sat down on the dirt, watching the edge of the earth glow with sunlight. She was just there for a few moments, seeing the smoke settle as the new day began and then she saw it; bodies.
The scent of burning flesh woke her senses and she covered her mouth, widening her green eyes. Corpses of strangers with burnt skin were scattered everywhere, twisted limbs reaching up to the sky for angels that would not take them. Angels that are the reason why they are all dead, casualties of war, but it was not meant to be a war at all.
She walked across the road, nearly stumbling a few times as she dragged her feet to the horrific site. With a quivering hand, she reached down to touch a corpse, turning her hand over to rub the ashes between her fingers. It was real, everything that happened in the pass week was real, and she had to feel it.
A creak of wood from the burning diner broke her gaze and she began to wander around, not knowing if anyone else was alive for miles, not know how she was going to get help or even knowing if she was awake and not trapped in some nightmare.
She kicked burnt wood around, moving heavy boards aside to look under the mess and as the sun rose, something sparkled at the corner of her eye. She walked over to the flashing steel, crouching down to dig her fingers in the dirt and she pulled out a lighter, rubbing the blackness away to reveal the word: 'Faith.'
She ran her thumb over the lighter and stuck it in her pocket, standing back up to look down at the burned objects at her feet. The smoke finally settled in the harsh sunlight and she move to kick a few boards on the side, pushing things away with her feet. After a few minutes of searching through remains, she found something covered in dirt, buried halfway into the ground like everything else. A journal.
'Michael' was the name written on the old journal and she took a look around, clutching it to her chest. She continued to look through the burnt mess, searching for evidence of what happened from afar as she would watch and she found nothing. The only things in her possession were the lighter, the old journal and her backpack.
The warm wind started to die down as day turned into night and she stuck the journal in her jacket, zipping it up. Rubbing her hands together, she looked at a bunch of cars that were barely touched by the explosion. She had to find a way to get out of here because no one was coming for her, the only family she had was dead now.
Most of the cars tires were melted to the ground, the windows were shattered from the blast, but one car in the back managed to be less damaged and the tires were unharmed. She looked inside of the car, opening the door and she sat down, leaning to the right to look for the keys.
A casino token keychain was dangling with the key in the ignition and she turned it, hearing the car rumbling on and then it dies. She smacks her palm against the steering wheel and the radio turns on. The static fills every station and she leans back, touching her chest to rub the journal in her jacket. She places her backpack on the seat beside her and pulls out her water bottle, taking a sip.