Okay! Here is my new story guys! The first chapter is short, but that's how i wanted it, short and to the point! They will get longer,I promise! So, please read and review!
Oh, and the name of the story comes from a beautiful song, 'Last Night On Earth' by Delta Goodrem...Australians and the English will most likely know her...everyone else may not! But this song is gorgeous, so i urge you to somehow get your hands on it! Or at least the lyrics, for i am kind of basing the story on it...or will at least be referencing the lyrics! Enjoy!
I do not own Friends, Characters, actors etc etc, but i do own the entire collection of Friends DVDs!
There had been no warning.
No sign.
No signal.
No warning.
Would things have been different if there had have been?
If they had been prepared?
Perhaps then they could have had a chance. Perhaps then there would no have been so many deaths. Perhaps then Chandler Bing would not have been running for his life; running away from the destruction.
Debris had been everywhere. Chandler had barely been able to see through the dust. The few things that he had seen had been horrible.
Blood, everywhere. Bodies, everywhere. Panic, everywhere.
Chandler had no idea how he survived, how he had made it when so many hadn't. How he had withstood the deafening noise that he was sure was going to explode his head, or at least his eardrums. He had no idea how he didn't choke to death on the dust, didn't break down in tears over the destruction. He had no idea how the smell didn't overwhelm him, the smell of death. He had no idea how he survived.
But he had.
Perhaps it was his love of life that had saved him. Perhaps it was his faith that had saved him. Perhaps it had been his desperate urge to protect his loved ones.
He didn't know.
All he knew was that he had survived. He had been one of the lucky ones. All he knew was that he had to get to his friends. Had to protect them.
He didn't stop to help anyone; there were few that could be helped.
He didn't stop. He ran.
He ran as fast as he could. Ran through the debris, the dust, the decay of newly created corpses. He ran, desperately ignoring the blood, the death, the smell. He ran until he reached the door, and then continued running.
Up the stairs. Ran until he reached another door. He didn't stop. He had to get to them.
Had to protect them.
The door flew open and Monica gasped.
"Chandler?" she cried in shock, taking in his appearance. He was hurt. His shoulder was bleeding, although Monica wasn't sure if Chandler was even aware of the wound.
"Chandler? What happened?" she asked, attempting to make her voice as calm and even as possible. Chandler stared at her as she walked over to him, his blue eyes standing out amongst all the blood and dust. "Chandler?" Monica pressed when he didn't answer, panic threatening to overtake her. She had to know what had happened. She had to know why he was in this state of shock. She had to.
But once Chandler spoke, Monica wished that she hadn't. Wished that he had never told her. The words were bad enough; the vagueness of them chilling her. But it wasn't the words that affected her the most. It was the way Chandler said it. The way his voice was dull and monotone. It was the way his blue eyes shined, not with happiness, but with pure fear. It was the way his body trembled. Monica wished that Chandler had never spoken those words, spoken the words that chilled her to her core. But he had.
"They're here."