Discovering the generator was the greatest blessing, only matched by the sight of the many propane tanks. Propane is a special thing. Unlike gas or diesel, it doesn't dilute and expire. My only concern was the tanks. Tanks have a shelf and depending on the material, five to ten years is the minimum.
Before moving them anything, I looked out the apartment complex and out the surrounding area. Weighing my options. To move everything back to the complex was risky, but the complex provided more security and seemed more stable over time.
Leaning against the building, I exhaled all the air in my large lungs and one thought formed naturally –Fuck it.
I saw no end to my stay in the future and not a glimpse of humanity. I had to do the best with what I had and no one was coming to save me. I nodded vigorously, hit my chest, pumping myself up, then I went to work.
I started with the alcohol because why not. It took the rest of the day to complete and I even managed to create a makeshift pulley to lift my supplies up. Taking out the wall between the neighboring unit in mine, provided more space.
The following day, I took the time to transport the propane tanks, a rather sweat inducing, nerve wrecking experience. By evening, the generator was also in my position, followed by the small refrigerators usually made for soft drinks,
It took time to break down the generator and clean the parts. But once reassembled and it ran decently. The big bird meat was packaged and stored. Its carcass is sorted and assigned. The feathers were stitched into the clothing for armor, daggers and arrows carved from its bones. A makeshift bow was manufactured and the rest were turned into pikes and lined along the walls to keep flying things from landing.
Finally, when I was at a loss of what to do next, I turned my attention to a laptop case I found in building four a few days prior. Thankfully, it turned on. It didn't hold a charge, but direct power kept it alive. There wasn't much to see as I wasn't a crazy computer wizard. Had I had the skills, I would have tried to tap a satellite to access the internet. Unfortunately, that wasn't my life.
Instead, I had to settle for the thoughts of some amateur. A personal journal, documenting the world's descent into chaos. An apocalyptic diary:
Journal Entry 278
Location: Int. Airport — Southeast Perimeter
Time: June 21, 2031. Power's out. Maybe dusk.
Zombies came first.
We called them the Zeros.
Not because they were the beginning—though they were—but because they left nothing behind. Zero life. Zero warmth. Zero mercy. Just an endless hunger. It happened so fast. Entire cities gone quiet overnight, only to scream again when the wind carried the moans of the dead. At first we thought it was just another outbreak. Another thing we'd beat with science and guns and government protocols. We were so damn naive.
Then came the mutations.
I watched a Zero split its jaw like a serpent and tear through reinforced armor like it was paper. Some of them started climbing walls. Others were... thinking. I saw one lead a group, herding them like sheep dogs around survivors. That was when we realized it wasn't just a virus anymore. It was adapting. Learning. And worst of all, it was choosing who to change.
We tried to hold ground.
Safe zones were built in what was left—old bunkers, oil rigs, mountain fortresses. Walls went up. So did morale, for a time. It felt like we were fighting back, not just surviving. Some places even started to look like home again. Kids laughing behind barricades, morning routines, ration lines that felt almost normal. We lied to ourselves. Said we'd reclaim the world. But all we'd really done was give the monsters something to hunt.
Then the beasts rose.
Not Zeros. Not mutations. Something... other.
Things with too many limbs and too few eyes. Some could speak, though not in words. Just sound that made your bones itch. Creatures that didn't belong here—like the earth had opened and spat up its nightmares. We still don't know if they came from underground, space, or somewhere else entirely. All we know is, they didn't come to feed. They came to destroy.
And now... something is attacking the stations.
First, the outposts stopped sending reports. Then the communication arrays blinked out. One by one. Every place with records, with maps, with data—gone. No blood, no wreckage, just blackened silence. It's like they're erasing us. Not just killing. Deleting. I don't know if this is natural evolution or the endgame of something ancient finally waking up.
This could be my last entry.
We left the airport. A small group of us.
If you're reading this... don't look for me. Don't try to fix this. That chance passed a long time ago. In the 'World' file, you'll find a map of safe zones. There's rumors of people fighting back, just not here.
— J.
This chilling account, combined with the 2029 liquor crates, painted a clearer picture of the timeline. In the past, if I ever returned, it would only be four years before the entire area went dark. But, the mention of the Zeros is what worries me the most.
When all was said and done, and food became increasingly scarce, my focus shifted to the true rulers of this land, as I hadn't seen a sign of any Zeros since my arrival: the beasts. I meticulously documented them—land and air, herbivores and carnivores. I observed their sleep patterns, their hunting behaviors, their strengths and weaknesses, and finally, each of their places in the food chain. Naturally, my food came from the lowest on the food chain, the herbivores, beasts reminiscent of jackrabbits populated my area. And whatever food these beasts ate, so did I.
Before I knew it, a month had passed since I had arrived in the future. The last of my dried jerky was gone. I found myself getting hungrier these days. I had caught two jackrabbits the day before and devoured them already. Though I was becoming accustomed to this ravaged world, the night was not the time to hunt.
The beasts and the untamed wilderness had, in a strange way, taken me in, and I had, in turn, embraced my role as their child. I had no clear inclination of what would come next, but I knew my place in the food chain. Only when morning came, did I dress and prepare.
It was then, standing at the doorway of my perch, grasping the bone handle of a mysterious sword. A low soft hum vibrated through the air, and suddenly, reality itself began to warp around me.
It was not a dream. Everything I had experienced over the past month was branded into my brain. When I appeared in my home, I was standing in the exact place I had left the future –The front door. In my hand was the ring pommel sword with a handle and scabbard made of the bone of a beast bird. I was dressed in combat attire lined with beast feathers, ten talon daggers around my body, and a helmet made of the jackrabbit beast skull.
This was proof that I had not been dreaming. I stepped away from the door and looked at the familiar yet foreign home. I dropped the sword and walked to my study. There, I had my phone on the charger. Picking it up, I inhaled sharply as I looked at the date and time.
"Eight hours…" I said, "I've been gone for eight hours. I spent a month in a desolate world, but I've only been away for eight hours."
I couldn't explain it. How could I ever? In what world did any of this make sense? I needed an answer that I couldn't find in the future. And if it happened again, I had to be prepared. After a long, hot shower, I dressed in modern attire, grabbed my sword, and left the house. On the way to the car, I dialed a friend I hadn't spoken to in years.
I waited. It felt like the phone rang for hours until I heard her voice.
"Caine?" she asked, "Caine, is it really you?"
"Y-yeah. It's me, Tejada. I need your help."
"Okay… It's good to hear from you." she said.
"Mmm. It's been four years, right? You still work for them?" I asked.
"Uhh, no. I'm at the university now. So…"
"I don't need that kind of help, Yanna. It'll be easier if I could come to you." I explained.
There was a long pause before she replied, "I'm in Philadelphia now."
"Send me the address and I'll be there tonight."
"Wait, you just can't..."
"I have no choice. I'm calling in that favor. Send the address." I ended the call and put the phone down.
I took a moment to calm myself before hitting the road. On the way to the airport, I stopped by a military exchange and purchased seven sets of combat uniforms, proper gear and tools needed to survive. In times like this, I regretted getting rid of my gear after my service.
It was around noon when I landed in Philadelphia. The City of Brotherly Love… but I'd always known it to be full of assholes.
Well, maybe that's too harsh. They were more like straight shooters—blunt, rough around the edges, and often lacking in consideration. But when you got to know some of the natives, they turned out to be more than decent people.
It had been years since I had visited this city. I would be lying if I said it felt nostalgic. Really, the most prominent memory was the Odunde Festival back in 2018. I haven't returned since. Still, it's the people that make the place. After seeing the future, it wasn't the city I missed but those friends who trickled into my life throughout my life. So I spent the day visiting them.
By the time I arrived at Yanna Tejada's home, it was fifteen minutes till eleven in the evening. Standing before the house, heavy pressure pushed on my chest and I felt paralyzed. I tried my best to center myself, then force myself to walk. With three, strong, rapid knocks, I announced my presence to everyone in the house.
No more than a minute passed before Yanna answered the door. It swung open, our eyes met and neither of us said a word. We stood there suspended in time as if our entire lives amounted to this minute moment in time.
A smile then graced her lips. Yanna tilted her head and her eyes sparkled. "Hey" she said.
"Yo," I replied with equal softness."
"You…" she began to look me up and down, "You look different."
"How so?" I was confused, "Is it the beard?"
She tittered, "No"
Yanna stepped out of the house, her forehead to my chest. I could hear her gasp.
"You're taller, wider," she poked my chest. "Definitely haven't lost your edge, someone one could even say you surpassed your prime."
'Is it Steriods' she thought, 'No he wouldn't…what the fuck has he been up to?'
Looking down at Yanna, I could grasp her shock. I was taller. Yanna was an even five foot nine inches when we dated. I was two inches taller, now there was about a half a foot difference. I knew I had grown, just never stopped to digest just how much I've grown.
As for Yanna, she was still a mocha skinned fox, with a mature beauty, naturally flawless, and body built to sway all men. A sensual woman at its finest. If I didn't hate the bitch, I might just fall into my old ways.
"Enough about me…This isn't a reunion."
"Yeah. Cashing in. I know." she said.
Suddenly, a man appeared, six feet, blonde hair, blues, and slender. I'm sure he had strength, he just appeared fragile. But his character was good as he stepped out of the house, shoulders square and spoke.
"You must be Caine Kaelix…" he began, hand extended, "I'm Ralph Abraham, Yanna's fiancee."
"What?" I asked, "Somebody managed to lock you down."
Yanna rolled her eyes, sensing my sarcasm. I shook Ralph's hand then decided to cut the meet and greet short.
"Yanna…I really pressed for time." I said.
"Yeah…Uh, love, I need to take him to the university and I will be back.
"I booked the lab for the night and early morning," she said. "I was expecting you earlier."
"Still impulsive and impatient. I'm the one in need, so why are you anxious?" I asked, my brow furrowing.
I saw her throat contract as she swallowed, clearly taken aback. I hadn't meant to, but I knew I touched on residual feelings—old wounds. I sighed and stepped away.
"I don't have much time. Let's get to it and get on," I called out.
We rode in silence for a few miles. Yanna actually lived outside Philadelphia now—in West Goshen. The drive was long, tense, and quiet. She finally spoke, halfway to the university.
"Thank you," she began. "I told him before you came… about us."
"Mmm," I hummed. "I noticed the ring."
"He proposed last month," she replied. "I've been on the fence for a while now."
I didn't ask. I just let her talk—and that she did, stumbling through her words.
"I always thought you'd come back after your contract ended. Then… Haze told me you got out and vanished. He actually told me a lot."
Haze knew a lot. He was my best friend through hell and high water. That man held me down through the thick of it—especially when Yanna hit her lowest point.
"Then I felt ashamed—and shameless—for even trying to reach out to you. Back then… I was inconsiderate and ambitious. I took it all for granted…"
"Alright," I said, cutting her off. "I'm going to stop you there. This trip's long, and I'd rather not spend it digging through the past."
I couldn't hold it in any longer.
"I forgive you. Because I should have left you sooner. I loved you, and I think you loved me in your own way. But it wasn't enough. If it had been, you wouldn't have sold me out time and time again. The love and dedication I gave meant nothing. It never took precedence."
"Still, I persisted. But that day—when you nearly got me killed or arrested—and still, you could only make excuses… that was it. You weren't just inconsiderate, Yanna. You were toxic. You betrayed me and our friends. Live with that—and just do better."
"After this, you and I have no relationship. Of any kind. Move on."
Her tears were steady. Bottomless.
Mine were locked deep in the wells of my eyes. But I felt a weight lift from my chest.
For the rest of the ride, we didn't say another word.