Chapter 1: The House

Ethan sheds some light on his origins and the war while exploring a house he came across. While exploring, he has a strange and upsetting encounter.

     "It can never be simple."

I muttered this to myself as I jiggled another locked door's handle. I took a deep breath and attempted kicking the door down, my heel driving into it beside the rusted handle. After several unsuccessful attempts, I sat down on the concrete steps leading up to the front porch of the small and filthy old house. It was painted white, but that was hardly recognizable anymore. Much of the paint looked worn and chipped away by weather or God knows what else. Shingles hanging loosely above creaked eerily, ready to fall from the hinges. The settling of the house as the cool fall breeze raced it's way through cracked windows made for the type of setting you would expect in an old cheesy horror film. It was obvious that this home was abandoned long before the war. 

Before you jump to the conclusion that I am a criminal, a thief, a savage, or any other label you have already placed on me, you must take the time to try to understand the situation all people are in as of now. Then again, none of us truly know it's full extent. I, Ethan Stone, am just another citizen who was caught by surprise and stripped of a civilized life. The media had the people fully content with the war between America and them. And how could we not be content? We were convinced we were winning. But no facade that the government put up could hide the whistling of bombs drowning out sirens, screeching their warning far too late.

The people know the truth now, and many fled north in the initial chaos; the one place the war hasn't affected. There's no simple way of making it that far now, every damn route known is heavily guarded. Hell, your chances were slim to none a month after the first bomb dropped. Fleeing after that was the second instance that media got people killed. What little civilization remained after America was conquered described north as a safe haven. Unfortunately for many, that wasn't the case. The only option many of us were left with when evacuation became wishful thinking was survival. Of course, that option is about as pleasant as the first. If you're not looking down the barrel of a soldier's gun who sees you as nothing more than a rat that needs to be exterminated from a run down building, then you're hiding from your own neighbors because they would gladly shoot you if it gave them an advantage at making it to safety. 

As the wind began to pick up, it stung my eyes and sent a chill down my spine that made me pull my hood a bit tighter, trying to maintain any warmth I had left. I stood back up and walked down the steps before turning around and scanning the house for any other entrances. I attempted the back door, but it was much thicker and sturdier than the front. After observing some of the lower level windows, I noticed that almost all of them were already slightly cracked, only one remaining fully intact. Looking around the backyard, I came across a rock almost the size of my hand laying next to what was left of a flowerbed. Luck was on my side today, as the grass was well above my knee caps and seeing anything in the sea of green was almost impossible. I hurled the rock at a larger window in the back of the house, shattering the glass on impact. If there was anyone in the immediate area, I'd made my position pretty obvious. Knowing that always made me paranoid, so I tended to only break the window as a last resort. Then again, kicking down the door wasn't much of an improvement. 

Drawing a small switchblade from my pocket, I cautiously peeked my head in through the window. The house groaned in pain as the wind carried itself through the broken window down a hallway to my right and into what looked to be a dining room. From what I was able to make out from the light shining through the window, I could not distinguish any furniture left behind. The house grew silent, and I listened close for any other sources of sound. I tossed my bag through the window and carefully climbed into the house. I cursed myself as I clumsily cut my hand on the corner of the window, sucking on the wound to prevent too much of a mess. I removed a small LED flashlight and a bandage from my bag and sat down on the floor beside the window. I was fortunate to only have a small cut; my supplies were scarce and it had been a while since the I restocked on anything. The thin cut traced across the right side of my right palm, making it an easier spot to wrap. 

        

A mistake such as this seems minor and insignificant, but it is one that I would not have made a month ago. Deprivation of sleep had been taking its toll on my body, so it was important that I made the most of the opportunities such as these. I stood up slowly, holding the flashlight in my bandaged hand. 

       

"If anyone is here, I have no intentions of hurting you. I only need a place to sleep for the night." I shouted, my voice echoing like the groans of the house I heard before. 

        

I waited and received no response. I halfheartedly expected someone to respond. Most encounters with others only led to trouble, but it was better than the extended periods of solitude. I imagined the house's groans shifting to the fearful shouts of another survivor. The isolation I had experienced this last year was only another factor that contributed to my mental sharpness deteriorating. 

The silence stung worse than the wind. It built up in my chest as I fought hard to contain my emotions. I closed my eyes for a moment and let out a heavy sigh, looking up to see a woman. I stumbled back into the door and stared, stunned to see her. My flashlight found it's way out of my grip and rolled into the adjacent hallway. I opened my mouth to speak, but my body was struggling to breathe, let alone speak. 

"My... my name is Ethan." I managed to stutter. 

My awe was pitiful; it was as if I'd never seen another human before. In that moment, though, that was exactly what it felt like. She motioned towards the room to her left and walked swiftly away. Her hair was short and dark, and her small and fragile frame moved with the wind. I quickly pursued, leaving all but my switchblade on the floor by the back door. My senses were nonexistent in that moment. I failed to acknowledge the fact that I hadn't explored any of the house, nor did I think that I could be easily lead to a thousand terrible deaths behind each corner. I didn't care, though; death to her would be better than another night of nothingness. 

I spun right around the corner and lost my footing, almost falling on the hardwood floor. I quickly caught myself and continued through a kitchen, also as barren as the previous rooms. A couch and loveseat were all that remained in what looked to be a living a room, And I dashed through another hallway before pursuing up the stairs. I failed to notice the dilapidated state of that room as if there was a struggle between people in it. The loveseat was overturned, and glass scattered the right wall next to a shattered picture frame. However, there were no traces of what photograph was once depicted in it. After clumsily making my way up the stairs and breaking a light on the wall in the process, I caught a glimpse of the woman walking into what appeared to be a bedroom. I ran into the room, breathing heavily and quickly scanning it. 

I scanned the room, and in my mind, I am not sure what I expected to see. Perhaps I had hopes of a group of survivors who would take me in. Perhaps I expected the woman to lend assistance out to me in some way. The logical side even brought the idea of a gun pointed towards me out from my subconscious. After looking over the entirety of the room, however, I simply sat down in the doorway and looked forward in awe. My switchblade hit the carpet with a soft thump, and the house spoke harsh words as a breeze entered the room.

The room was completely empty. There was no woman, no revelation, not even a trace of a human ever touching it. 

The pressure in my chest returned, and I didn't combat it as sobs amalgamated with my heavy breathing. All of the exhaustion and emotion that had been suppressed for so long was coming out at full force. I lost all awareness of what was around me. The room only grew darker as my cries were drowned out by the whipping winds attacking the house violently. I grew cold in that spot, but I didn't care. After what seemed like hours of sobbing in that spot, I finally regained my senses. Wiping tears from my cheeks stung my cut, and I retrieved my switchblade from the floor. I still didn't want to move from that spot, but I knew that there were still parts of the house not cleared. I forced myself to stand up, and after several attempts, I finally regained my stance. I looked around the room one last time before punching the wall across the hallway. 

There was nothing of much significance besides some abandoned clothes and blankets in a closet. The outfits were small, but the blankets were intact and clean enough for me to sleep on. I carried my things to the empty bedroom and laid the blankets out in the corner of the room. The house grew silent as exhaustion overwhelmed me and I fell asleep, dreaming of the girl my mind had created.

Author's Note

I hope you are enjoying this story as much as I am so far! I would greatly appreciate hearing your opinions and critique so far, and I hope you stay tuned for the rest of my book! Thank you so much for reading!

Reviews

[Shu Ouma]

Really enjoyed this chapter. I loved the way you described the country's situation as well as how you portrayed the main character in this chapter. It's really easy to feel for the main character with how you subtly include the experiences he has had to gone through such as not sleeping for a while. I'm gonna go ahead and read the next chapter but I really loved how you established the mood of this chapter. Good job!

[Deason]

Thanks for the review! I am excited to continue this story now that I have the time to do so. I also see that you posted a long-awaited chapter, I'm looking forward to reading it!

[Shu Ouma]

Yeah, man finally have time to work on the story as well. I just finished reading your latest chapter it was amazing man. The latest chapter I posted is essentially the last prologue and I will probably have the next chapter out in a few hours. I just wanted to introduce the four central characters to the story before I got into the fucked up apocalypse part.

[Deason]

You are setting up an amazing atmosphere for your story, and I am seeing lots of potential for it. I am hoping to have a chapter up in the next few days, I think I need to step back and gather my thoughts after so long without thinking about the story. I'll keep an eye out for that chapter later, thanks again for the kind words!

[FellStrix]

Great Read! The way you set the overall setting up was fantastic. The eerie encounter with the girl definitely captures what isolation can do to someone. Good stuff.

[Deason]

Thank you for the feedback! I apologize for the belated response, I haven't been able to continue this story like I had planned to due to schooling and sports. I hope to return to this project within a few weeks, and I have quite a bit of your writing to catch up on after my absence!