As I said in my intro to all the collections this is a collection I created in order to explore what would happen if the apocalypse happened and the majority of people who were left were children, teenagers, or young adults. The first character I wrote about was Kim, so it became Kim's Earth, although the name may change in the future if I find one that fits better. Unfortunately, even though I would love to write more for this collection, it doesn't currently have many readers who are interested in prompting for more fiction, which really does help me when I'm planning a month of work - otherwise I'll work on other things that do have more interest as that's what people want to see.
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The last thing I remember before falling asleep, or possibly passing out, was how badly my entire body ached. Like everyone else I’d had the injection. All the actors had gone first, waving for the cameras, somehow managing to act normal when they came out, as though everything was fine even though they must have all felt as bad as I did. The director had followed, because people knew him too, and it was important that they saw someone they felt they knew going in for the injection. It would do good things for the fear some of the newspapers had been spreading, about how the injection hadn’t been properly tested.( Read the rest of this entry » )
Mirrored from K. A. Webb Writing.
As I got closer to the block of flats that Woody had taken over I began to get the feeling that something had gone wrong. Normally he would have had someone out there waiting for me, because I always went to see him on the same day, but the only people I saw were people I didn’t recognise. Stopping, I bent to tie my shoelace, to give myself time to think about what my next step should be, and that was when two of the strangers took a couple of steps closer to me. It wasn’t impossible that something had happened to him, even though he’d always been careful. Like he’d always said I was vulnerable because I was female.
Slowly, I stood, and turned to find that someone was right behind me. “Are you lost?” he asked, sounding concerned, but when I looked into his eyes there was no emotion there at all.
“No,” I replied, as calmly as I could. “I was planning on seeing someone, but I just realised I forgot something that I really wanted to give her.”
“I’m sure it can wait until another day. The new owner of the block likes to meet anyone who visits and if I didn’t take you up with me now he wouldn’t be very happy with me.”
Biting hard on my lip I looked around. If I’d remembered the gun Woody had insisted I take or there had been less men staring at us I would have made a run for it. Finally I did the only thing I could do and nodded, letting him step in front of me so he could lead me into the building. One of the other men stepped in behind me, which made me feel even more afraid, as we made our way up to the top of the block. Thankfully having to use stairs all the time had made me stronger than I had been before the injection and I kept up with them both.
The first man knocked on the door of number 17. “Come in,” a male voice called, and from the tone I was certain he already knew that I was there.
We stepped into the flat, the door closing behind us, and I heard someone lock it. All I could do was keep following the man, while hoping I would either be able to talk the new owner into letting me leave or that I would find some way to escape before anything happened to me. He, I found moments later, was sat alone on the sofa, and when he patted the seat beside him I knew he expected me to sit next to him. Shaking my head I stayed standing where I was, even though I knew I was probably making a mistake.
“What did you do to Woody?”
“I didn’t do anything to him. He was sensible and decided to find somewhere else to live.”
From what I could see Woody had made the right choice, because he’d never have been able to fight all the men that the new owner had brought with him, but I was surprised that he hadn’t warned me that there had been a chance in ownership. He was the man who had saved me from death by starvation and I thought I could trust him. Obviously I was wrong. Unless the new owner, who looked about a year older than me, was lying to me about what had happened.
Mirrored from K. A. Jones Writing.