Before
I was twenty years old when I had a front row seat to the end of the world.
Like any twenty-year-old, I was trying to figure out who I was and what I wanted to do with my life. I was taking some junior college classes to get some general education credits while I determined where my path in life was going to take me. I was working a part-time job at a local police station while I figured things out. I had a great family, with parents who taught me that success is only earned through hard work and perseverance. My older brother spent most of his time picking on me, though he always looked after me. I felt like I was just getting the hang of things. I was managing working while going to school, all while living on my own for the very first time. Then, like a sudden bolt of lightning, everything changed.
I was a SoCal girl, and while I really did not care for the big city life, I grew up there and it was where I was comfortable. Contrary to popular belief, however, living in Southern California did have its drawbacks. The summers were hot, and with the heat came rolling blackouts and wildfires. That is how it all really started, but we did not know any better. It was a particularly hot summer, and being the fifth straight year of drought conditions, it was dry and it was unbearable. First, we blamed the fires. It was not a summer in Los Angeles if the hills were not set ablaze, torching everything in its fiery path, especially all our power lines. We had grown accustomed to the way the smoke filled the air with its ominous orange fog, causing the sun to shine down on us with its sinister vermilion hue. Every time we left our homes, the aroma of burning brush from the nearby hillsides was carried in the haze, alerting us to nature’s fury. It happened every year for as long as I could remember, and we had adapted to such conditions.
Eventually, we began to think it was the overuse of the air conditioning units. The news insisted that we needed to spare the electricity, but no one trusted the media anymore. Plus, we had grown so accustomed to the electric companies just shutting off the power with their random brownouts whenever they felt the need to. It was nothing we hadn’t encountered before, so we didn’t heed their warnings.
Despite having experienced these occurrences for most of my life, I had this foreboding sensation that something bigger was happening. No matter how hard I tried to quell my nerves, I could not make sense of the anomalous events taking place. Blackouts were common in this part of the country. We would get warnings and alerts to prepare us for sporadic energy interruptions. They would last for a couple hours, here and there, never for much longer than that. The first were what we expected, and what we were used to. Eventually they grew longer, until we went days without power. Shortly after that, we found out it wasn’t just Los Angeles, but appeared to be nationwide. Both major cities and small rural areas were experiencing these blackouts with no real explanation. Whenever you called and asked the power companies for answers, they had a prepared generic response.
Naturally prepared for earthquakes, my family and I were always prepping for the next big one. My parents always ensured we had basic supplies to last us if the freeways collapsed like they did during the Northridge quake back in 1994. They had insisted that we had an emergency preparedness plan so that we would not be victim to whatever emergency presented itself. Unsure of whether it was truly overuse or a real weakening of the power grid, my parents wanted us to be prepared just in case there was some other unimaginable threat approaching. Who knew how people would react if our way of life was threatened? We knew we had to prepare in case people started hoarding basic necessities, like they did during the Coronavirus pandemic. Humans and their fearmongering always led to unpredictable responses. You never truly know what people will do in times of a crisis. Would something like that happen again? Would there be chaos? Riots? Overwhelming civil unrest? No one really knew. This was unchartered territory, and no one could prepare themselves for something of this magnitude.
I remember the last time I listened to the news before it all ended. Conspiracy theorists discussing how terrorists had gained access to the power grid. They insisted unknown entities were doing systematic tests to see if they could control us. We would destroy each other given those circumstances. Technology had taken over our lives at this point. Everyone had become reliant upon “smart” phones, “smart” TVs, “smart” cars, and “smart” appliances. We became a culture so vain and obsessed with social media that we were truly losing a sense of what mattered in life. All people seemed to care about was how many “likes” they could get on their Instagram or Facebook posts, and they had seemed to lose all sense of dignity in the process. The modern-day Sodom and Gomorrah; no wonder the world was in desperate need for a reset. We needed to find the values we had lost, and somehow realize what was truly important again.
No one can foresee when the world is coming to an end, and I was no exception. The last day of my regular life was like any other. It wasn’t until I watched the President of the United States give a nationwide address, telling us not to worry, that I knew something major was coming. Every essence of my being knew something very grim was about to materialize. He stood there polished and articulate. He was the leader we needed in such uncertain times. His words were full of hope as he remained calm and tried to dispel any rumors that could have led to the inevitable chaos. Everything was under control, he assured, and America would persevere. He emphasized that as a nation we would overcome this and be stronger for it. He reminded us of all that we had endured thus far as a nation, and that this was an inconvenience, but not the end. Did they know already? Looking back, I wish I would have studied his body language. I wish I had been able to read between the lines to understand what he was really telling us. I wish I had seen the warnings hidden within his words.
My brother and I met at my parents’ house, just as they requested. Honestly, I didn’t mind being there with my family. While I did feel like they were overreacting a bit, I at least felt a sense of safety; false security of being with my family, I guess. We could all feel the shift in the air. It was undeniable. Within hours of the Presidential Address, the power was out. We knew something was coming, but didn’t realize it would happen so suddenly. We thought we would have more time. Just as we suspected would happen, though, disorder ensued. It did not take long before the looting and rioting began in the streets. Once people realized the severity of what had transpired, they did not know how to act. With tremendous sorrow, I knew we could never come back from this; not at least within this generation. The world was no longer a safe place.
We knew we had to get away from Los Angeles. We had to get away from any big city. So, we packed everything of necessity and drove north. We left late at night because we knew there would be fewer people on the streets, and fewer people trying to steal whatever we had. We also knew there would be less carnage for us to encounter, and I don’t think my parents wanted us to witness the worst of humanity. We were about an hour north of Los Angeles when our dire circumstances escalated beyond comprehension. There in the sea of black sky, a beam of amber incandescent flame trailed behind a giant metal projectile. The orange, fiery light painted itself across the dark canvas as if it were a giant meteor heading toward downtown, eagerly delivering our annihilation. The explosions were visible in the distance. Within seconds, the ground beneath us began to violently shake. Despite being in a land of constant tremors, this was unlike any earthquake I had experienced before. And that was it; everything I had ever known was gone.
Unsure of whether the event was isolated to Los Angeles or spread nationwide, we knew we had escaped just in time. But what had been destroyed? Was there anywhere to go? My dad drove us a few hours north to a small town just outside of Lake Tahoe. There was an old family cabin, hidden deep in the woods, that was hard to find even when you were looking for it. It was like we were hiding in plain sight, which in these troubled times seemed like the safest place for us to be at the moment. It appeared to be undisturbed. No evidence of what we had witnessed hours before occurred here. It seemed safe for now.
That next morning, we attempted to find a radio station with news on the battery-operated radio we had. We sat anxiously waiting to hear if it had only been Los Angeles that was destroyed. Finally, we found a radio station and listened as a male with a southern accent began to speak. His words were spoken with despair, and it was evident he was distraught.
“I don’t know if anyone is still out there and can hear me. I survived, somehow, but the majority of my loved ones did not. I have just learned it is all gone. All of it. Much of the country has been destroyed in multiple air strikes and bombings. The damage to the other countries is anyone’s guess, but prior to the attack on American soil, nuclear missiles were fired at the terrorist countries that destroyed our power grid. We have literally destroyed ourselves. For those of you hearing this broadcast, you cannot lose hope. We need to rebuild. We need to do better. Please do your best to survive. God bless you. God bless what is left of America. May God have mercy on your souls.”
Then silence. In a matter of days, we went from the most prosperous nation to nothing but ashes. It was all gone.
We did what we could to pick up, start over, and build a new life. We felt like it was happening, too. We had encountered savage humans from time to time, but we had some feeling of peace. Our new life was one in which we were closer as a family. We went out and scavenged for supplies. My mother and I learned how to fight off possible attackers. We learned how to hunt for our food and find non-poisonous berries to eat. We gathered up what we could of the lives we had left in the ruins, and we pushed forward. We laughed; we cried for what we had lost; we became new people. Our family unit was unbreakable. All we had was each other, and we were happy with that because we had somehow survived all the bad that happened. For 226 days we managed. We had a routine; we had a purpose. Then on day 227 the monsters came.
