Gusty Days AheadMature

A tree rips through the roof of my house. It does so in the middle of night, and the gaping whole in our house allows wind and rain alike to come in as they please.

I'm awakened not by the noise, but by the strong thud, that shakes my body and bed. I sit up, shivering. The heaters off, it has been for three days. Ever since the major Petrol Crisis, or in America, the Oil Crisis struck the western world, we'd be on the fringes. Maybe we were past that, I wouldn't know. 

Slipping out of bed, I make my way down the hall. I can hear the storm louder then the normal muffle it was when we had all our walls in tact. Now it was hitting full on, sound and all.

I measure the damage. It's pretty catastrophic. Easily fixed if repair men still existed. Now they wandered the streets as scavengers like the rest of us, hiding like me as some few do, or dying as many do. 

The tree divide means its time to leave ahead of schedule. I had been planning on doing so once food ran out, but now, there was no choice. 

Pulling on some clothes, I gather all my food, supplies, anything that still has importance, and head out to the guest house crafting a makeshift bed. I'll stay here the night, then in the morning, make a run for it.

To be fair, I can't say the worlds totally gone mad. There is still a Parliment, though it's erroding. Their laws mean nothing now, up here in Scotland, law and power have been given to those with the abilities to enforce force.

I live on the outskirts of Edinburgh. The city was a refuge for the homeless. It still functions - barely. Shops are closed. The Parliment and Scottish Royal Palace now the homes of all politicians in the area. The Castle is where you go now.

U.K. decided to stay neutral in the war, a wise last choice my government could ever make. Most of the rest of the world, I couldn't say the same. But many lives and homes where lost in some stray bombings. We were attacked weakly several times, but attacking back was pointless. It didn't last long either.

I really thought We were going to be okay. I really did. Kat and I, our plan to live together would have worked. But they caught the disease. All three of them. She was the last of them.

Knock Knock

"Kat, you still there?"

"Hugho! Don't come in!"

"Why not!"

"I'm sick." She struggles to speak now. Hoarsley. The bare bones of what use to be her voice.

"I can help you."

"Help me by leaving. Please."

I can tell she's crying. She never cries, yet there she was. Choking on tears. Crying. 

"But Katie..."

"You'll just die too. Just like my parents."

That punches me like a silent ice cube flying into your spine. I struggle to figure out what to say next.

 "Please! Hugho. I can't see you die too. Not now. Not after all this."

"But.." I cry. One tear. I have to refrain from doing more.

"Hugho, you're the best friend anyone could have."

"Don't say this."

"Hugho, never stop loving. And never, ever, stop playing Guitar. Never stop letting music be your soul."

"Katie, wait!"

I hear her walking a away. I pound my fist on the door, kicking, screaming to let me in, to me help her. Crying full on now. I sink to my knees.

It's not till nightfall I decide to go home. Looking one last time through the window to try to catch a glimsp of her, I rage at the sight of her hanging.

And at home, I find my house cold and empty. I don't care. Not back then. I can't let them see me like this. Not in this mess.

I got to my room, and silently, angrily, cry myself to sleep. 

The next morning, the house is still cold. And still absent of my parents.

And they never, ever, came back. Neither did Katie.

The End

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