“Day 3652…” I mutter to myself as I scratch the next tally into the stone wall of the shelter I built. The 10-year anniversary of when shit went to hell. Part of me wishes every day that I’ll just wake up and this will all have just been a dream—no—a nightmare—this whole time, but… I know damn well this is the harsh reality I must keep enduring.

75% of the population was deemed to have been wiped out. One world leader pissed off another and it all went to hell.

I remember sitting on the living room floor with Nick and Chris, watching the news, since it was just idly on. We were 11 at the time, not understanding that we were witnessing a declaration of nuclear war worldwide—we were just happy kids living our lives.

That is until our mom came running in in a panic and told us to pack only our essentials. I did so, except I brought a pug stuffed animal which just a couple years ago I decided to name Mr. Wrinkleton. He’s my only real friend in this wasteland. I keep him on a wooden shelf in my room—if you can even call it that. It’s underground—the entire bunker—covered with stone and some tarps that I’ve found above.

Shit hasn’t gotten any easier and I don’t think it ever will. People have shown their true colors—being selfish, greedy, and even hostile in some cases. I think the radiation is getting to their heads, since it’s still lingering around all over the world, even after ten years. The government, or, “the government”, handed out some radiation suits if wanted to try and allow people to live their lives as best they can in these shitty conditions. I say “the government” because it’s supposedly made up of the smartest people still alive. I don’t buy that bullshit though. Distributing the suits is the only good thing they’ve done for anybody. They’re all selfish just like the rest of those idiots above.

I finish scratching in the tally and put on my suit to go above ground to try and get some metal scraps. I walk into the junkyard and see… a girl without a suit on…? Is she fucking insane?