-Authors note-

HOOOOLY FUCKING SHIT, GUYS!

Pardon my language, but, yeah. I'm not too fond of this chapter, but meh. Ifind it too solemn, quiet, depressing. But the next chap, you will see how much I love to bounce off the walls with my writing. ;)

PUH LEASE keep reading. Next will have plot. Pinky promise?

How many days had I sat there, saying nothing, doing nothing, and thinking nothing but a simple why me?

The fires.

They started small, built up, roaring through the lively Battery City like an inferno.

Who were among the first to go?

The people who tried to stop the fires. The ones who came outside expecting the best after the explosion.

The explosion.

Thinking back to that very day, I feel my eyes well up. No amount of time will heal the scars those sights had given me.

When the fires struck, Dad left. It was his duty, wasn't it? As a firefighter, he had to risk his life to save others. He left, and Mom screamed. She begged, pleaded, threatened- Anything to get him to stay.

But he was out the door.

And so was she.

I know he had gone to the fires, confident that he would once again be named Hero.

I know she was in hysterics, screaming and running to who the hell cared.

And maybe around, say, 5 minutes after the whines and screams from my harebrained mother faded out of my ears, the wave hit.

Oh, how I wished myself dead.

How can I explain what happened? It hurt. Worse than anything. I felt like the air around me was pulsing, and as I looked around, my tear stained vision seemed to fade.

But it looked as if the reds, blues and yellows of my living room were dripping. The brightly colored hues slowly melting off of the furniture, walls, and everything in between, leaving a gray mess.

That's really all I can explain of the first wave.

Once it was over, I sat there screaming. SCREAMING louder than I'd ever before. I could hear cries for help, injured men and women scattering the streets. That only made me even more afraid.

Eventually, I picked myself off of the ground, and ran. Out of my house and into the backyard.

There, a little wooden surface showed through the grass. I immediately yanked the handle, revealing canned food, a hammock and small, stained mattress, and many other good survival needs. My haven.

I climbed partially down the ladder, and looked up at the sky.

I loved the sky. It soothed me. But today, it was a bloody red, speckled with black. In the middle, there was a large mushroom cloud. Growing bigger by the second.

I shut the wooden door, and retreated into darkness.

My name is- Or was, I should say, Ivory. I lived in a beautiful three story house with my mother and father, and our cat, Tony.

I still wonder what had ever happened to Tony.

I went to a nearby high school- I was only 15, and my friends and I were closer than blood relatives.

I know they're dead. They were out having a night on the town- without me, I should add. I was always, well, the 5th wheel. If that makes any sense.

One day, years and years ago, my dad and I were playing football in the lawn when we heard a creaking noise.

He cautiously lifted his foot, and there we heard it again.

After hours upon hours of investigating, we had realized it was a bomb shelter.

Cool, huh?

And so there I was, 8 years later, curled up in a hammock, my eyes shut, but sleep not relieving me from the pain.

I had tried singing.

But my voice had faded, along with my hope.

I'd tried eating.

But all the food seemed to repulse me. Not, of course, that I didn't like canned pears, or peaches, but, for some reason, food just… Seemed un natural.

Hard to explain.

I don't know HOW long I sat there for, could have been hours, days, weeks… The clock's battery was long dead, and the only way I could tell was by how tired I was.

Not helpful. At all.

So I was stuck there for a long time, my guess about a week. I didn't want to risk stepping out into the day light and finding out I was the only one left on the planet!

Or even just looking outside and seeing all the corpses- their faces twisted with fright and grief, wishing they had a bomb shelter as fly as mine.

But actually, I just didn't want to face the turmoil that had happened days before. I wanted to pretend it had never happened.

I knew one day I had to face the music. And so every time my tears dried once more, I would push myself. Tell myself to go for it.

But I never did.

One night- Um, or day, I had no idea-.I was suddenly whisked into darkness. Utter darkness.

My guess was the motherfucking light bulb had bitched out.

So I cuss, and I cry, and I cuss some more. But then, a light bulb of my own popped up.

I clawed my way through the shelves, and finally made it to the ladder.

I was brave. And I was gonna do it.

It took a minute or so to undo the latch, due to my shaking hands. And another minute to push it open.

But when I did, and peered out, I knew exactly what it was that I saw.

A new era.