[That’s the last fucking time I date a god-damned hippy. Kinda wish, WAIT! Does this mean I have one question that will literally be answered if I use the “W” word?]. My thoughts and I were having an odd powwow. Half of me wanted to test the limits of the new reality, and the other half was desperately clawing at my disbelieving soul to face it and prepare. Turning my head, I looked at the MacBook; it was no longer on, and the screen had a crack running through it. My phone, next to the computer, also had a large crack bisecting it. Still not letting go of the chip, I used my pinky finger to hit the center button on the smartphone to see if it would light up. Nothing. Turning back to Sarah, her face was locked in an expression of painful joy.


  Now I wasn’t a true blue prepper, but my former less foresty lady had jokingly halfway prepared for apocalypses of various kinds, and this was making my paranoid instincts tingle. Several guns were in the house along with some throwing axes, canned food, winter coats and a bug-out bag. SMACK! An almost wet, fleshy sound shattered my reverie. Looking up, I saw a neighborhood cat peeling itself off of our window. Its red eyes promised death even though it was comically at odds with its diminutive size. Screw it]. I shoved the last bite of heaven in my mouth and ran my hands over the tree. After confirming that she was in fact, a tree, did not seem to be conscious, and was made out of solid wood, I sprinted up to my bedroom, slamming the door behind me. My drunken haze was leaving faster than it had ever done before. Tearing apart my room, I threw on thick old, black jeans, my old Army boots, a leather jacket, put a pistol holster on my belt, shoved my Smith and Wesson .45 in it, and grabbed the two spare mags. Grabbing my thick leather jacket and AR-15 rifle out of the closet, I stuck the throwing axe and KA-BAR knife in my various pockets.


  “Alexa!” I yelled as I put myself together, “Anything I should know about?” No response. I turned to look at it over by the large screen tv Sarah gave me last Christmas. A large crack that wasn’t there an hour ago was running through it. Everything electronic was broken. I couldn’t turn it on. The sound of shattering glass downstairs jolted me out of my disbelief. Quickly scanning the room, the digital clock was off and cracked, my girlfriend’s phone was off and cracked. I cracked open the bedroom door to the hallway. The movement coincided with a vicious and small cat howl. The neighborhood stray cat had gotten in and decided that I was lunch.


  I didn’t have gloves on, so trying to manhandle the cat didn’t seem like the brightest idea. Guess I should let its own enthusiasm be its undoing. I opened the door a little more to let its head in as it ravaged the door. It would almost be funny. The plan was to smash the door on it as it tried to come in, but its little claws were making good headway on the door, as if it were cheese. A red glow emanated from its eyes and claws. I pulled my .45 and shot the cat while it was somewhat stuck in the door, one paw reaching for me. As it fell, the weird red glow slowly left the extremities of the cat.


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