Disclaimer: The plot and characters all belong to Stephen Vincent Benet and I take no claim as my own.
Explanation: This is a prequel to the story By the Waters of Babylon by Stephen Vincent Benet that I did in my English class.
They have all left. Only a few remain to watch the end of mankind. As soon as the rumors spread we all thought it was a joke. Nuclear war? Preposterous! Never would happen, we all assured ourselves. Who would dare bomb our dear country, the symbol of liberty? Well they have. The nameless enemy has struck. First in California, then in Oregon. Radios swarmed with terror stricken reporters screaming into the microphones that the end has come. Panic swept the West coast into a whirlwind of death. Some say the entire West coast is gone, blown away. But these rumors do not strike the true fear. Gas. Poison gas seeping into the earth and bringing sickness and death at one touch. That is what I fear. People here in New York are running, screaming like lost children in a strange neighborhood. But where can they run? Nowhere.
Fear is an amazing thing to turn a civilized society into chaotic waste. The bridges and stone cold streets are blocked with cars and people alike. Subways have been closed, businesses abandoned, family and friends rush away in blindness. Still some remain to see the end. Skeptics stand in the roads with red and black painted signs trying to convince others to stay in disbelief. No one would bomb New York. Never. Three days since the bomb of the West and there are still thousands fleeing everyday. I still stay and go on with routine. I must remain calm, for my sanity. Today I went to the abandoned stores, took bread and paid for it unlike so many others. As I walked out a scruffy dirt covered man came up to me yelling, "It is a gift from the gods. Our time has come to meet the Almighty. Our glorious Zion shall fall but we shall not weep. We shall rejoice my friend. By the waters we shall rejoice."
I merely nodded and walked on, noticing the groups on their knees, praying, weeping, and laughing. It is my duty to uphold calm and show that our nation has not yet been crumbled by the invisible hand of the enemy.
It has come. I can feel it in the air, I can taste it, and hear it. The end of man's reign has come. Radios and television sets are blank. The satellites no longer are in use. We are without electricity in a world of darkness. Our nemesis laughs at us while we cry. I do not know how many remain in the city. A few thousand maybe. I walk home with a stiff rigidity. Trying to keep the moisture from escaping my eyes. As I arrive home I drop my groceries.
A small gasp escapes me as my heart stops. Just for a second, but it does stop. The light is brilliant, it burns too hot. Fire ash and smoke infect the sky. It has fallen. Our fate has fallen nearly three hundred miles from the city. The cloud rushes towards us at the speed of sound. Citizens run screaming but I remain standing in a room above them all. I see it, the end. It burns, it stings but I cannot look away. Its brilliance is too great. I sit down in my green cushioned chair, weakened by fear. This is a cruel way to go. Smog engulfs the city. Poison rushes into the lungs of all life. I breathe deep for I have no more fear. I accept my death. The sting enters my lungs, my blood. My heart slows. Vision becomes blurred. With one last look I gaze upon my home, my nation, the empire of man. My last thought before darkness: This is the end and we can only blame ourselves.