To be or not to be that is the question, that ran through my brain. Could it be vaguely obvious killing myself because of this hell land? What I was implying was that Mother Nature decided to throw a tantrum which was primarily to cause an unavoidable death to the whole human race. My helpless legs trembled uncontrollably, making me collapse onto the dead, neglected ground. Shattered bones crunched under me as I landed.
My stomach growled louder than I desired it to. There was a louder crunch. I hoped it wasn't another anthropophagite. I didn't want to die from being eaten by another human being.
A foot gently nudged me, so I looked up and observed a boy who looked around my age. He had a small, round face with a mass of brunette hair and gentle eyes.
I scarcely noted he wasn't wearing any clothes; my eyes instantly went to his. He smiled gently at me. "Name's Peter," the boy said with an Australian accent, "What's yours? It's alright, I am not a cannibal."
I stared suspiciously at him and thought, if he is lying I'll die. Then again, wouldn't they wear clothes?
I gripped his hand that he had extended for me to grasp. I nearly fell over trying to walk, but Peter caught and carried me.
"What do you eat to live?" I wearily interrogated Peter weakly. I felt terribly embarrassed by asking that question and not because of Peter's exposed body that was near me. I'd seen many exposed people in the past few dreadful days, and they were all dead or half-eaten. I closed my eyes and actually got some sleep, but the dreams weren't pleasant.
---3 years ago---
I was back home and life was alright. Mom and I maintained another fight which was normal for this family. My brother represented the reason for the fights.
Dad and Mom were endlessly on each other's side, and my brother and I were constantly on the similar side.
This time the fight was over whether we should go to the country or stay in New York.
My Mom and Dad completely got tired of fighting with me and said I could stay in New York. I was delighted to be in my city instead of the country which I find extremely tiresome. My Mom and Dad completely got tired of fighting with me and said I could stay in New York. To tell the truth, my brother had wanted to go to the country, so my parents escorted him.
I woke up in a decent bed, my stomach screaming for nutritious food. "Slowly eat this. It will undoubtedly cause you to be considerably better, I promise," Peter said with a slight smile on his gentle lips.
I looked eagerly at what it was. Then I instantly noticed it was homemade soup.
I critically examined the contents inside of the bowl and instantly recognized an oyster with some cultivated mushrooms sitting in a brownish broth. Though it looked like an appealing meal, it wasn't mortal flesh.
I scarfed it down quickly. Eating so fast almost made me lose it, but it forcibly prevented me from escaping my weakened body. It was very hard not to vomit the precious food that I ate. I collapsed into Peter's stout arms, shaking uncontrollably. I smiled weakly at him, as he set me back onto the splendid bed.
"Atrix," someone whispered gently, "get up."
As a response, I groaned in agony but got up anyway to see Peter standing over me.
We walked over to the door of the shelter that Peter had built. He opened the door, and we gazed up at the sky to observe a few Zeppelins fall in raging flames.
They landed on the ground and exploded then I took off running to them because my friend and their family were on one.
My family has been deceased for years, ever since the violent beginning of the Apocalypse so my friend and their family essentially represented my family.
"Stop, you can't go out there," Peter said a little sternly, "you'll be dead like the rest of them."