December 27th

Amber's POV

I let the warmth of the sun wash over me. Someone was whispering my name, shaking me softly. But it was so early, and the warm sand was so soft.

"Amber..." This time I recognized the voice.

My eyes flew open. I was on an empty beach under a beautiful blue sky. Waves crashed softly on the shore as the ocean breeze blew through the air. Someone hovered over me, smiling softly.

"Alfie!" I cried and pulled him into a hug. He pulled me up, setting me softly on the sand.

"Had a nice nap?" He asked jokingly.

"Oh, I had the worst dream. There was water. So much water. Everywhere I looked, it just kept coming, washing everything away. I was so alone. I think everyone else was dead..." I had started to say when I notice Alfie's smile fade.

"What is it?" I asked.

He froze, his face twisting in pain, a silent scream plastered across his face. He collapsed to the ground, gasping for air. Deep gashes started to appear on his arms, face, legs. Blood quickly soaked through his clothes, pouring onto the white sand. I fell to the ground beside him, frantically trying to stop the bleeding. He wasn't breathing.

Then he was still.

"ALFIE!" I screamed, still using my hands to try and stop all that blood. Then I noticed a deep gash that ran along the side of his neck.

I sat there in disbelief on the blood soaked sand, just staring at Alfie's mutilated body, that had just been, a second ago, so full of life.

Then the beach started to fade. Growing darker and darker. I noticed the pain. An ache at first, that grew and grew until it felt like I was being torn apart. I screamed out, my eyes flying open. Blinding sunlight shining through a wreck of tangled trees, twisted metal, broken glass mixed with torn up buildings scattered around with shattered pieces of furniture. Pictures, children's toys, shoes, clothing, everything imaginable. All torn apart, covered in grime and blood and twisted into the wreckage of this pitiful landscape.

"Sorry. I told you it would hurt a lot." Someone said softly.

I looked up to see Patricia crouching beside me, covered in blood but very much alive. She was wrapping a worn-down rag around my leg, twisting it tighter and tighter, while I tried in vain to hold back another scream.

"I'm sorry. I'm almost done." She said hastily.

"What are you doing?" I asked, wincing as she pulled it tighter still.

"Setting your leg. Ok done."

She stood up, grabbed my hand, and pulled me up with her.

I stumbled a little and screamed out in pain when I tried to steady myself with my other leg.

"No. Don't do that. Here." She said, letting me lean on her.

She helped me take a few small, painful steps forward. She had tied a metal rod to my leg so I couldn't move it, but it made walking very difficult.

"Where are going?" I asked her, after we had made it a few hundred feet.

Patricia sighed, then said, " There has to be a shelter somewhere."

We walked in silence for another minute. I couldn't wait any longer. I had to ask her.

"Patricia, is Alfie dead?"

She stopped walking and turned to face me. I almost didn't want her to answer. I needed hope. But I needed the truth more.

"I don't know." She finally whispered.