“What happened last night?”, he asked out loud to no one in particular. He glanced around his surroundings, baffled at the state of which his house was in. Which was not there, actually, nothing was there. He was standing on his dust covered, redwood floors, and he was surrounded by emptiness. In the distance he spied a fire razing what was left of his town. Then he started to remember.


 


The light was incredible at first, lighting up the night like a second sun had risen. Tim, being the idiot that he was, decided to look straight at it. What a terrible move by him. His eyes were immediately sunburned and he became permanently blind. Well, that doesn't really matter much, as he is dead now.


 


The shock of all this information made him collapse onto the ground, and then he noticed the bodies. All around him, bodies of his friends and family were strewn across the floor. Josh’s leg was torn off from the knee down, and his arms bent at unnatural angles. Tim was curled up in the fetal position, clutching his burned eyes and his face forever frozen in a mask of absolute pain. More memories flooded into his brain.


 


The shockwave was the worst part. When it hit, they knew that this would be their last moments alive. Josh was killed first as he was the closest one to the sliding glass door. The glass was embedded in his back, and one large piece ripped his leg off. His final breaths came in that of an ear-piercing shriek. Tim, who was stumbling around blind-as-a-bat, was knocked off his feet by the shockwave and thrown against the wall. The force was great enough to snap his back, and break all his ribs. When he crumpled to the ground, his ribs were driven into his heart and lungs. A most inhuman scream came from him, and then it was over.


 


He coughed, choked, and started crying. He was finally realizing what had happened, he understood that his world had been ripped apart and he was possibly a lone survivor. He stumbled around his deathroom, biting his knuckles and crying out “WHY ME!” He clutched his stomach and heaved his final meal into the bushes. He walked to his garage and approached his weapon closet. His blistered fingers fumbled with lock. In a fit of rage he slammed his bruised body against the door. It fell off of it’s hinges, exposing the guns inside. He grabbed the closest one and pulled the hammer back. His deteriorated mental state forced him to start laughing, a chilling sound that gave echoed throughout the desolate plain. He placed the barrel into his mouth and pulled the trigger.


 


BAM. ‘GOSH DARN IT ADAM, I told you to wake up 10 minutes ago’