A/N

So the perspective changes here. The story isn't in the journal of Cyrus this time, but the head of Ryanne. Perspective is gonna change like this, so the odd chapters will be Cyrus, and the even chapters will be Ryanne (for the most part anyway).

I peered out the window. The once well-lit street was nearly invisible. Dead. Almost barren. "Whelp, it looks like there isn't much left to do tonight" I said, turning to Cyrus, who looked up from the scrap of paper she was writing on. I looked over at it. "July 28. Is that the date?" I asked. It seemed both too close and too far from the 4th of July.

"Yeah, I think so anyway..."

July 28. It was weird to put a label on the blur of hours that became days of nothing special. "Are you done?" I asked, motioning to the candle next to Cyrus.

"Yeah."

The room was dark again.

"RyRy. Ryanne. Freaking wake up!" Cyrus was shaking me. RyRy. That is literally the worst nickname ever.

I opened my eyes as slowly as I could. Perhaps preserve whatever sleep remained inside me after such a cruel awakening. There was a light coming from the street outside, and it was coming closer. I got up and followed Cyrus to the window. Some of the neighbors down the street had run out of rations very quickly, and had been struggling ever since. They had somehow acquired a torch, and were approaching our house angry mob style. With them they had rocks that I guessed were for breaking the front windows. It was amazing how quickly everything had gone to shit once the lights went out. The government crumbled, the police just... stopped policing, and people ran out of food. My parents were doomsday preppers, so we had more than enough rations. We shared what we could, we really did, but we kept most for ourselves. Now it was biting us in the ass. I looked over to Cyrus, who was already putting on her boots.

"45 seconds. Grab whatever you can." I whispered, as I ran into our closet to find the expandable escape ladder for fires and the like.

I was right about the rocks. The crash of glass seemed to echo off the houses, and remain in the air forever. I shoved my feet into my hiking boots, not bothering to lace them, and ran to the window. Shoving the bottom pane up I dropped the ladder, letting it extend on its way down. They were on their way up the stairs now, ready to kill us, I suppose. Its easy to raid someone's house if that someone is dead. I let Cyrus go before me, grabbing one of the two backpacks stuffed with clothes and such from her. I didn't even touch any of the rungs of the ladder on my way down, I just slid my hands on the metal bars. Cyrus was waiting for me at the bottom. We ran.

We were maybe half of the way down the street when I realized how quiet it was. We had made quite a ruckus with the shattering of windows and the escaping, and yet not a candle was lit in any of the houses. They must have been awake. I felt like an idiot. They knew. They must have known, and they weren't stopping it.

Bastards.

We ran all the way to the bunker where my parents had stored the rations. It could hardly be called a bunker. It was more of a walk-in pantry that was underground. And made of steel. And contained weapons. And hiking packs. It wasn't really a pantry at all, come to think of it... Regardless, it was small, not even big enough to sleep in, but it was filled with everything we would need, if everything went according to the glimmer of a plan in my panic-stricken mind.

A/N

Thanks so much for the likes, follows, internet love 'n such everybody! It really makes us feel good about ourselves and that's always fun. And hey, while you're here at the bottom of the page, review the story, will ya? It'll help us figure out what you want from this story, and, hey maybe its the same as what we want. That would be convenient...