“People say that a long time ago, water used to fall from the sky and that you could breathe the air without a filter. That’s just a bedtime story. The world was never that good.”

-Jeremy

A rapid pounding echoed throughout the empty halls of the rentspace. No one dared complain about the noise, for its source came from Ted Libert. Along with three other goons, they were no doubt looking to collect the rent that was four months overdue.

Jeremy was frantically searching for his Ruger SP101, a five-shot revolver that fired .38 Special rounds. Guns were rare in this post-invasion world. After the extraterrestrials had drained most of the world of its water, metal, and weapons there were very little guns left. Manufacturing them was no longer viable, as the world had plunged into chaos and factories were stripped of parts and machines that developed those parts by the invaders. Gun maintenance was critical during the aftermath. You couldn’t just go out and buy or find another gun if yours stopped working.

He knew he couldn’t stay any longer in the complex. If he didn’t give the landlord the money that he owed-which he didn’t even have to begin with-he knew they’d kill him on the spot.

“Open up, you little parasite!” he could hear Ted yell from beyond the locked wooden door.

“One second!” Jeremy called back.

He tucked the gun behind this gray trench coat, holding it with his armpit. He walked up to the door, stopping just a few feet away from it. He knew he’d have to fight his way out.

Jeremy put his right knee up in the air and kicked the door off its hinges. He sent Ted and his goons toppling backward with the door landing on top of them. Jeremy lept on top of the door and then jumped up and down several times. Grunts and howls of pain and rage could be heard coming from underneath.

Jeremy jumped off the door and bolted down the hallway as fast as he could. He didn’t turn back to see the damage he had done. He didn’t care. He arrived at the stairs that led down to the second floor and kept going, taking three steps at a time.

As he reached the second floor he misstepped and fell the rest of the way down. The gun he was carrying under his arm went off and shot a bullet through the back of his coat, just missing his body. He felt the shock throughout his ribcage, making it hard for him to breathe.

Jeremy scrambled to his feet. His ears were ringing, the narrow hallway made the gunshot sound much louder than it otherwise would have been. Jeremy picked up the weapon that had fallen out of his armpit and begun sprinting down the final flight of stairs.

Once he had gotten to the bottom of the stairs he made a dash for the exit. He stopped just in front of the door.

“Shit!” he exclaimed, cursing himself. In his hurry, he had forgotten his mask. He couldn’t leave the building without it or he’d die from the toxic atmosphere outside.

Jeremy turned around and looked at the stairs. Ted and his goons should have been on the same floor he was by now.

Jeremy heard several footsteps from the floor above. Ted and his goons were walking.

‘Why the hell aren’t they running?’ Jeremy thought.

Coming at some point in the future...