6 Months After the Beginning

The warm glow of the television flickered softly in the dim living room, casting gentle shadows across the walls. The only other light came from the soft hum of the computer screen on the nearby desk, its pale blue hue adding a coolness to the air. Outside, the streetlights had long since gone dark, leaving the world beyond their home in deep, inky silence. But here, within the walls of their house, love filled every corner, wrapping them in a protective warmth. Tonight was special—Edward's second birthday.

Elmore sat on the worn but comfortable couch, his arm around Ash as they watched Edward play with his new toys, his laughter bubbling through the room. Despite everything—despite the strange and chaotic world outside—there was peace here. Ash smiled at their son, her face lit up with joy, and Elmore could feel his heart swell as he watched them, feeling as though this small moment in time was all that mattered.

The day had been spent in quiet celebration. They had woken early, eager to make every second count, knowing how much this day meant to all of them. Elmore had gone into the woods early in the morning to gather firewood for cooking, making a small campfire in the backyard where they roasted food and baked bread in the simplest way they knew. The rich smell of flame-kissed meats and vegetables still lingered faintly in the air as they sat together now, relishing the calm that blanketed their home.

The entire day had been devoted to Edward, every minute filled with love, laughter, and the kind of simple joy that children bring into the world. They had spent hours together, telling stories, playing with makeshift toys, and doing everything they could to create memories for their son. It had been a perfect day, untouched by the madness that had come to define the last six months. Edward’s eyes, full of wonder and innocence, were bright as he smiled and babbled, unaware of the darkness lurking just beyond the edges of their small world.

There were no interruptions, no urgent news broadcasts, no sudden flashes of the strange powers people were beginning to experience. For today, at least, the world had left them alone.

As the hours had passed, Elmore found himself wishing this moment could last forever. He held Ash a little tighter, his eyes lingering on her profile as she gently stroked Edward’s hair, smoothing down the soft curls that framed his chubby face. Her love for their son radiated from her, a palpable thing that filled the room with warmth and light, despite the cold outside.

They had given Edward everything they could today. As he ran from one toy to the next, as he laughed and smiled, Elmore knew they had done right by him. The boy would never remember the strange things happening in the world—the building collapses, the chaos in the cities, the sudden bursts of power that had gripped humanity. He would only remember the love of his parents, the warmth of their home, and the laughter that filled it.

The small table in the corner still held the remnants of their humble feast—plates with crumbs of bread and bits of roasted vegetables. It hadn’t been a grand celebration by any means, but it had been perfect. The food tasted better than anything they could have imagined, seasoned by the fire and the love they had poured into the day.

Elmore’s gaze drifted back to his son. Edward was now curled up between them, his small body warm and heavy with the sleep that was beginning to overtake him. His tiny hands held tightly onto one of his birthday toys—a simple wooden block that Elmore had carved for him that morning. The toy was rough, uneven in places, but Edward adored it, holding it close as if it were the most precious thing in the world.

The television murmured softly in the background, the volume low enough that it blended into the hum of the room. They weren’t paying attention to it, not really. The world outside, with all its strangeness, seemed so far away in this moment. It was as if time had slowed down just for them, just for today.

As the evening grew later, Elmore leaned in and kissed the top of Ash’s head. She looked up at him, her eyes shining with the same quiet gratitude and love that filled his own heart. No words were needed; they both understood the importance of this day, of this moment. They had created something beautiful today—a memory that they would all carry with them for the rest of their lives.

This was the happiest they had been in months. Perhaps the happiest they had ever been. The world outside had been forgotten, at least for a little while. It was just the three of them, wrapped in the safety of their love, ignoring the shadows that lurked at the edges of their lives.

As Edward’s breathing deepened and he finally drifted off to sleep, Elmore and Ash exchanged a quiet look. This moment—this perfect day—would forever be burned into their hearts. It would become a memory they would cling to when the world around them became too much to bear.

Because deep down, Elmore knew that this was the last of those days. The last time they would feel this kind of peace. The last time they would truly be able to forget the storm that was coming. And though he tried to push the thought from his mind, it lingered in the air, a quiet reminder that no matter how much love filled their home, the world was changing.

This would be the happiest day they would ever have. And it would be the last of its kind.

After Midnight

The clock had just struck midnight when Edward was safely tucked into bed, his tiny body snug under the blankets, his dreams untroubled. Ash stood by his side for a moment, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead, making sure he was protected, safe, and loved. Only then did she and Elmore finally exhale, sitting together in the quiet calm of the house after a day filled with joy. The world outside was distant, forgotten. At least, until the faint sound of footsteps echoed through the darkness.

It started quietly—a few faint shuffles, then the unmistakable creak of the front door being jimmied open. The sound was muffled, but the intent behind it was clear. Elmore’s eyes shot to Ash’s, and without a word, they both knew. It was happening. A group of looters had come, just like they'd heard about happening in other towns.

The door groaned open, and the footsteps grew louder. There had to be at least a dozen of them, maybe more. Elmore quickly grabbed Ash by the arm, his voice low but urgent. “Go to Edward’s room. Lock the door. Don’t come out, no matter what happens.”

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Ash’s eyes widened with fear, but she nodded, moving quickly down the hall, the sound of the lock clicking into place behind her. Elmore’s heart pounded, and he moved with the same sense of urgency, his hand reaching for the only weapon he had left—a battered, old baseball bat. It wasn’t much, but it would have to do.

The front door swung fully open, and the looters spilled inside, their faces shadowed by the dim light. There had to be anywhere from five to twenty of them, their rough voices filling the house as they began to tear through the living room, grabbing whatever they could find.

One of them—a man with a wild look in his eyes—spotted Elmore first. Without hesitation, he lunged at him, a rusty knife clutched in his hand. Elmore barely had time to think. His instincts took over, the bat swinging up in a fluid motion, catching the man right in the temple. The crack was sickening, and the looter dropped instantly, dead before he even hit the floor.

And then, just like before, everything slowed.

Elmore’s mind locked into place, his thoughts sharper than they had ever been. It was like every lesson, every fight, every physical experience he had ever known was downloaded into his mind in an instant. He analyzed the remaining men in a heartbeat. He saw the slight limp in one man’s leg, the way another kept shifting to his left as if his right eye was weak. Weaknesses. Vulnerabilities. He saw them all.

Before any of them could react, Elmore was moving, faster than a man of his size should be able to. His 6-foot-tall, 400-pound frame cut through the group like they weren’t even there. The first man went down with a brutal swing to the chest, the bat shattering ribs and puncturing the heart in one motion. Another came at him from the side, but Elmore pivoted, slamming a fist into his throat, collapsing his windpipe with a single, precise strike.

He moved like a force of nature—ducking, dodging, weaving between blows as though he’d been trained for this his entire life. Every step was calculated, every attack deadly. The looters were disorganized, reckless, and they paid for it with their lives. One by one, they fell.

Out of the corner of his eye, Elmore saw one of the men break away, heading toward the hallway—toward Ash. He didn’t even think. His arm swung back, and with a primal roar, he hurled the bat with all his strength. It spun through the air, slamming into the man’s face with a sickening crunch, shattering his jaw and dropping him instantly.

The bat was gone, but Elmore wasn’t done.

His hands, now his only weapons, became instruments of pure, brutal violence. The air filled with the sound of fists connecting with bone, of bodies hitting the floor. He fought with an intensity that bordered on savage, his mind locked into a single, driving purpose: protect his family.

The violence became a blur, each hit more vicious than the last. He wasn’t just fighting to stop them. He was making sure none of them would ever threaten his family again. His fists broke ribs, smashed faces, sent bodies flying across the room. The sound of flesh meeting flesh, of bones snapping under pressure, filled the house. It was war—a war Elmore had no intention of losing.

And then, suddenly, it was over.

The last man standing, barely able to walk after Elmore had shattered his hip with a swift kick, stumbled toward the window. Blood poured from his mouth as he fumbled with the latch, his breath ragged. Elmore watched him crawl through, collapsing on the second-story ledge before dragging himself off into the woods, broken and beaten but alive—just barely.

Silence fell over the house. The only sound that remained was the soft, distant crying of Edward from his room, the commotion finally having woken him.

Elmore stood in the middle of the carnage, his chest heaving, blood on his hands. The house was in ruins. The bodies of the looters lay scattered, motionless. But Ash and Edward were safe. That was all that mattered.

For a long moment, Elmore just stood there, the weight of what had just happened pressing down on him.

Aftermath

Elmore stood in the hallway, his hand resting on the handle of Edward’s bedroom door. The house was heavy with silence, the air thick with the stench of blood and violence. He leaned his forehead against the door for a moment, gathering himself before calling out softly, his voice thick with emotion.

“It’s all clear,” he said, just loud enough for Ash to hear. “But stay in there... I need to clean up first.”

A soft, almost broken reply came from behind the door. “Okay.”

The word, barely more than a whisper, carried all the fear and relief she must have felt. Elmore swallowed hard and stepped back. He needed to clean this up—quickly, quietly—so they could try to pretend, even for a little while longer, that life was still normal.

He began with the bodies. One by one, he dragged them out of the house, through the back door, and into the woods that bordered their home. The silence was deafening as he worked, his muscles straining under the weight of the dead. He was methodical, careful not to leave a trace inside the house. He couldn’t bear the thought of Ash or Edward seeing this. They had already seen too much.

When the last body was piled outside, Elmore set off deeper into the woods, searching for the one who had escaped. He found him eventually, crawling weakly through the underbrush, unaware of Elmore’s approach. There were no words. Elmore knelt beside the man, placed his hands on his head, and with one swift motion, snapped his neck. The body crumpled into the dirt, and Elmore stood, staring down at the lifeless form for a moment before dragging it back to join the others.

With the bodies piled high, Elmore built the pyre. He tossed wood, dry leaves, anything that would burn, onto the mound of corpses. The fire caught quickly, the flames licking hungrily at the dead, sending thick smoke spiraling into the night sky. He stood there for a long while, watching as the blaze consumed them.

What he didn’t notice—couldn’t notice—were the faint, shimmering waves of energy that began to seep from the pyre. Wisps of light, barely visible, drifted toward him, wrapping around his body, sinking into his skin without a trace. Elmore felt nothing out of the ordinary, though a strange, distant hum seemed to linger in the back of his mind as he walked back toward the house.

Once inside, Elmore went straight to work. He mopped the blood from the floors, scrubbed the walls, tidied the chaos that had erupted from the looters’ invasion. Everything had to be perfect again. Order had to be restored, no matter what it took. The house had always been a sanctuary, a place where they could retreat from the world’s madness, and he wasn’t about to let that slip away.

He moved the only two pieces of technology that still functioned—the computer and the television—into the master bedroom. The living room door had been shattered, hanging limply from its hinges, and the windows had been blown in. It wasn’t safe anymore. But the computer... that was different now. Elmore had noticed the changes. It no longer needed to be plugged in to run, and the internet connection it maintained was untraceable, limitless. The data storage capacity was beyond anything he could comprehend.

He ran his hand along the sleek surface of the monitor, marveling at the impossible. "This might be the only thing left," he muttered to himself. The programs he’d been running—ones that quietly downloaded vast amounts of information, entire databases, even archives of the internet—were still functioning. The computer had become their only real connection to the outside world, and somehow, it had evolved.

Satisfied that the house was as clean as it could be, Elmore cleaned off the bloodstained baseball bat, the weight of it still lingering in his grip. He looked at it for a moment longer before setting it aside, the events of the night still replaying in his mind, a haze of violence and instinct.

Eventually, Ash emerged from the bedroom, cradling Edward in her arms. The boy was still fast asleep, his tiny hands clutching at her shirt. She gave Elmore a tired, grateful smile, and without a word, the three of them retreated to the master bedroom for the night. The door was shut, locked, and barricaded behind them.

As Elmore lay in bed, exhaustion settling into his bones, something inside him shifted. A strange sensation unfurled in his chest—a warmth, like a pulse, spreading through his body. He tried to ignore it, tried to focus on the soft breathing of Ash and Edward beside him, but the feeling only grew stronger. A dull ache followed, starting in his temples and spreading downward, like his body was fighting against itself.

He slipped out of bed, careful not to wake them, and stumbled into the bathroom. His hands trembled as he gripped the sink, staring into the mirror. His reflection blurred, distorted, and nausea rolled through him. He bent over the toilet, vomiting, the world spinning around him. When he finally straightened, gasping for breath, he turned the water on, splashing it over his face.

But the ache didn’t fade. If anything, it intensified, radiating through his body. It was like something foreign was fusing with him, merging with his very essence. He clutched the edge of the sink, trying to steady himself, but the pressure in his mind grew unbearable. His vision flickered, and for the briefest moment, he saw it—impossible shapes and colors, a spider web of lines, symbols, patterns filling his sight like a heads-up display in some futuristic video game.

And then, just as quickly, it was gone.

Elmore stood there, panting, his heart racing in his chest. He didn’t know what had just happened, but one thing was certain: something had changed. Deep inside him, something had awakened, and though he didn’t yet understand it, he knew the world would never be the same.

And tomorrow, the world would begin to know it too.