It’s been nearly ten years…almost a decade since civilization collapsed. And most of the population is either dead or in the process of killing each other for what resources remain. Can still hear the gunshots in the middle of the night, echoing down the alleys of this broken city. The occasional scream as another victim falls to the scavengers or raiding parties. There is no hope for a future, the only thing to do is live day by day, searching for food and trying to survive till the next.
It’s not so strange as to how it all came down to this. Nearly everyone knew it was coming, except maybe by those hidden out in the woods or those blinded by their own conformity. It wasn’t just the economy that collapsed, it was the environmental changes. Though it started with the dystopian government failing. Once the U.S. dollar was banned from use in every other country in the world, America could not sustain itself. Mass unemployment, riots, mob robbings, and complete anarchy ran through the streets of every city. The police and military personnel were the first targets, and after they were wiped out by the civilians there was nothing to stop the population from turning on each other. It was a bloodbath in the streets. And without supplies being shipped into the cities, the food and water ran out within months. Some turned to cannibalism and some just starved to death. The lucky ones left the city entirely, though to what end no-one knows.
What’s left of this city is what every picture used to show what post apocalyptic cities looked like. The streets are filled with burning or overturned cars, decaying skeletons, and chunks of buildings that fall on a regular basis. The buildings all look like they’ve each been hit with a rocket launcher, scorched on all sides with large area’s crumbling and leaning outward. Broken glass glistens like a stream across roads, reflecting the permanently darkened skies. And always rumbling with thunder to mock each bolt of lightning that strikes the war torn city. The gunshots are like crickets used to be in the woods, it starts its song at dusk and sings till dawn.
There’s a hidden shop off in one corner of the city. It’s an old battered knife and gun emporium. At one time the shelves were covered in all types of knives, hidden blades, swords, rifles, pistols, gunblades and every type of ammunition in existence. Though now the racks lay empty, covered in dust and old bones. The knives that are left are rusted and dull. The ammo is wet, useless, along with the guns which were crushed when the ceiling caved in a few years ago. This used to be the home of a man who wandered the dark streets at night, scavenging for food. He was always covered in ash and scars, always wore a beret and a torn leather jacket. This one was alone, always alone, but not lonely. He had no hopes for a future, so took up a hobby fixing up the emporium. Not the ceiling or the crushed walls, though he restored the knives and what guns he could. This was all there was to live for, to survive for. He once had a family, two kids and a wife, but that’s not here nor now. The past is gone, just ghosts to haunt his mind.
Although now the shop lays empty, with racks of shining knives and half working guns hidden in their cases. He eventually finished his task and moved on. To where is unknown, neither is it relevant. Packed up a pair of bowie knives, a gunblade, and a set of shotguns and walked off into the sunset one day. Perhaps there are still green fields somewhere out in the distance. Maybe even some trees still standing after the massive hurricane like storms that wracked these lands over the years.