the exiles

chapter one: wayward

Where

am

I?

Is the first thing that comes to his mind after he opened his eyes. This wasn't where he was earlier. These weren't the lush landscapes that he had known for years, when he had lived peacefully and without a care in the world. But everything had changed in a flick of a finger, which was, in fact, what changed everything. He could see it so visibly now, the streaks of red flying through the air like paint on a canvas and all of the dead bodies that he had hoped would make to the end and-

He punches himself. He had vowed never to speak of it again, but instead attempt to bury the trauma under piles and piles of blank emotion. This would prove to be useful, until his past would come and find him. He steps into the unrelenting rays of the desert sun and shuffles his feet in the hot sand. He looks behind himself and observes the wreckage of what used to be a battleship. The recent past is recalled. A flash, and a bang. Extreme tremors and furious heat, and hitting his head on the wall as he touched down. He tentatively touches the spot where he smashed into a windowpane at around 200mph and winces. Hopefully that didn't do too much damage.

He wanders, searching for things to do, people to see, and destinations to reach. Unfortunately for him, there are none of those things. So instead he speaks to himself, long, rambling thoughts about how he feels and what the hell just happened. He is lonely, and draws other people in the sand. He knows they're not real, but he sits down next to them and talks. Over the course of the day, he has found many small green plants poking their stems out of the sand, somehow surviving, and at night it's cold, and he is faced with a choice. Small green things can be eaten. Small green things can burn.

He does not have much to drink, so he walks until he passes out from dehydration. Somehow, he manages to get up again and continue wandering. He has long since forgotten his name, and the pristine white sheets that he used to wear have become a light brown color. Today is his… how many days was it? He stopped counting because he couldn't care less.

Today was an interesting day, because he found himself walking past a building, that apparently had not been struck down by some… mysterious force. The building was crumbling and old, and it had a large chunk missing from it. He carefully climbs the steps, hoping not to get buried under an enormous pile of rubble if the entire thing came crashing down. He explores, wondering what kind of people lived here. He finds a calculator, inoperable, and a broken bottle. He is careful not to step on it. Eventually he reaches the roof, and he hangs his sits on the side of the building while watching the sunset.

It is almost a year later, and he is very grateful to have survived this far. Even he doesn't know how he got this far. The past year has been a blur, and all he remembers is feeding off of small plants and drinking incredibly old water. He stands on top of a sandy cliff, watching the ground below him and-

Then he realizes that cliffs can't possibly be made out of sand. He walks in a circle for a while, his footsteps imprinted in the sand. He stubs his foot on something and he yelps out in pain, then stumbles and falls off the cliff. Luckily for him, the cliff wasn't that high and he climbs back up it. Now he knows something is off. He brushes a layer of sand away, the particles disintegrating into the air. Buried under the sand is a hatch. Finally! Something new. After prying the hatch open with his fingers, he peers down the long hole. There is a ladder to help him climb down. He wonders what could possibly be down there, and he shrugs. At least it's better than nothing. Slowly, he descends.