Is this how it was meant to be?
Is this what… God truly wanted?
The end of humanity, happening in such a bizarre way?
Marle thought about it, staring into the wasteland as he recalled what the world looked like before... all of this happened.
Magnificent architectural designs. Landmarks. Automobile creations.
Electricity, the media, culture and lastly, people.
At that very moment, as Marle stood post at the window, it felt like none of those things had ever existed.
How did it all start? he wondered.
Where did it begin?
Surely it didn't just happen?
It didn't.
But if we were to go back then to the "beginning" — we'd realize the order was reversed.
People were the first to fall, long before the landmarks crumbled or the power grids shut down.
Some said it was genetic mutations. Some said it was cannibalism. Others believed it was a failed government experiment they couldn't control.
Whatever it was, it was gruesome. Humans tearing into each other like they were Thanksgiving turkeys. Ripping and chewing, leaving behind shredded flesh and shattered bone.
One would think they'd die after something like that.
But then — how the hell is it possible for the dead to come back to life… and crave flesh and blood?
It was funny at first. "The resurrection of the dead happening right under everyone's noses." That was the joke. But gradually, the comedy turned into a nightmare.
At some point, while humans were treating each other like full-course meals and dessert, the world went dark. No news updates. No blogs. No social media streams.
Then over time, the world literally went dark.
The power grid collapsed. The only ones who held on were those with generators or solar backups.
The ones with generators? They ran out of fuel eventually.
And that's when the scavenging began.
The door to the hotel room creaked open.
Marle turned his gaze and saw a boy standing there — no older than sixteen. He'd been waiting for the boy.
His skin was pale and peeling. His cheekbones and skull were visible even from across the room.
Marle knew him. Of course he did. How could he not recognize that face — even smeared with blood and dirt?
Marle took three slow steps forward, leaving the warm evening sunlight behind as he stepped into the shadowed part of the room.
He raised his pistol, a faint glimmer of sympathy in his eyes as he watched the boy approach, limbs jerking unnaturally with every step.
Each joint snapped as it moved, mechanical and lifeless.
Marle sighed.
And put the boy to rest.
Blood and brain matter painted the floor.
He sat on the bed, eyes locked on the body now lying in a pool of red. He scowled.
That day... he remembered it like it happened yesterday.The cold. The big coat he wore.His teachers — Mr. Mark and Mrs. Patricia.His friends.The woman announcer. And lastly... the airplane number.