A/N: I was listening to Lorde's "Everyone Wants to Rule the World", and it just kinda sounds apocalyptic/post-apocalyptic, so I decided to write a fic on it.
Chapter One: Flip The Channels
Stiles sat quietly in his room, staring at his poster-covered walls. The summer heat seeped in through his opened window, a small fan in the corner going left to right within the same intervals of time, hypnotizing him and making him want to fall asleep. He shifted and rolled onto his side, back to the wall.
Summer vacation was always a fun thought…but when you really got to it, and you were half way through, it was boring as all hell. Especially when all your friends were gone. Stiles was left stuck in Beacon Hills, while Lydia was probably enjoying making new friends at the summer camp, Scott was either swimming, sleeping or eating, and Malia was getting used to being a human, and she was visiting a relative. Isaac had moved to London, disappearing without saying anything. Derek was still in town…but who'd wanna hang out with Derek?
And he was left behind with nothing to do.
Stiles reached for his phone and he began to flip through the contacts. He passed Allison's name, and his thumb stopped the scrolling as he stared at her name. He remembered that night…remembered hearing Lydia screaming something, which he learned was Allison's name later on. He still felt guilty.
He swallowed and dragged his finger across the screen, and a small red box appeared next to her name, asking if he wanted to delete the contact. Stiles hesitated, but continued with it, and then her name disappeared. At first, Stiles thought a weight on his chest lifted, but it turned out that it just got better at disguising itself, and he felt a pang of guilt.
Suddenly, his phone rang, and Stiles jumped slightly.
It was Scott calling him.
"Yello?" Stiles said casually, sprawling himself out on his back once more.
"Stiles? Dude, turn on the TV. Check out the news." Scott sounded urgent, and Stiles slowly sat up and reached for the remote on his nightstand. The small TV in the corner of his room flipped on. Without even needing to change to the news channel, a reporter began to speak.
"The gas line leak was predicted to be a minor fault in the building's construction, but we urge everyone in the California area to stay indoors from now on."
The picture on the TV then began to shake, and the video taken from the helicopter zoomed in on windows smashing inside the building and people piling out. Stiles throat closed up as he felt slight anxiety.
It just…felt weird…
"Dude! Are you seeing this?" Scott asked. Stiles forgot he was on the line.
"We have just gotten news that this building was experimenting on a deadly strain of mutated virus. The President has just ordered lockdown of the California area. Everyone stay in-"
The TV then went snow, the signal cutting out. Stiles pulled his cell phone from his ear and saw the call had ended abruptly. He stood up and rushed for the door, the floor shaking with his heavy footsteps as he ran through the hall and down the stairs to the front door, yanking it wide open.
His other neighbors were panicking, one family packing their car and they sped off, leaving black tire tracks in the road. The other guy was screaming at the top of his lungs, asking the sky "what did we do to deserve this", before running back inside. Stiles tugged gently at the collar of his V-neck shirt, air not getting into his lungs as easily as it was not even ten minutes ago.
He quickly found his shoes scattered around the house and he pulled them on, only wearing a paint-stained pair of blue jeans, and the grey shirt. He ran outside and slammed the door behind him. He had to get to the police station. He had to find his dad.
At first, Stiles was just walking fast, trying to keep a good pace and not use up all his energy in case he really did need to run. But then, he couldn't help himself. His legs started to move on their own, and before he knew it, he was in a full-blown panic induced charge for the station.
In town, people were freaking out there, too, some beating others in the middle of the road, others robbing the gas stations or stores. But Stiles kept running, his hands shaking and his eyes filled with terror.
And then he reached the station.
It was quiet, seemingly empty. Stiles slammed into the door and jogged in, gasping and panting. "D-Dad!" he called, pulling at his collar again.
"DAD!" he screamed, raising his trembling hands to his head and grabbing his hair with a death-like grip. He backed up and hit a wall, and without meaning to, he slid down until he was sitting helplessly on the floor tile. "Dad…" he whimpered, trying to force himself to calm down.
The slam of a door made Stiles jolt and curl up, biting his lip.
His father ran into the room, staring at his son. The sheriff ran over to Stiles, lifting him off the floor by his arms and pulling him into a tight hug, swaying slightly back and forth. Stiles felt a rush of calmness, and his breathing evened out.
"I drove home as fast as possible, but when I got there, you weren't there. So I thought…where would Stiles go? And I guess I was right?" The sheriff explained. Stiles nodded. "Yeah…good detective work there, dad."
A ear-ringing explosion tore them from their hug, and both men faced the window to see a cloud of dust and a raging fire.
"Dad…is this really happening?" Stiles asked.
Sheriff nodded. "God I hope not…" he muttered under his breath.
Almost immediately after saying so, a man slammed himself against the window they were looking out of. His eyes were bloodshot and irises cloudy grey. His skin was deathly pale and peeling off in disgusting, bloody pieces. He made a biting motion with his face pressed against the glass, staring both of them down.
Stiles' heart sank with the realization.
It was the apocalypse.
A/N: Will update soon!