Desolation

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Max put down his pen and grimly examined his hand-written pages. He folded them and put them in a small bag containing the only belongings he could call his own, in hopes of one day adding these pages to those already written in the leather-bound journal his great-grandfather started. He would have to get back to Rocky Point. Not just for his sake, but for the Kings’. That would be his primary focus now.

A loud screeching cut through the raw morning air, rousing Bill and Lisa King from a fitful sleep of restless nightmares.

The uproar was one more in the endless list of sounds they had never heard before, which made up their life after the apocalypse. It wasn’t the frightening death-throe-screams that followed distant gunshots across the town’s estuaries, or the constant electrical buzz that filled the atmosphere all around them. This sound was a monstrous and powerful outcry immediately outside their beach home.

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