Chump's eyes lit up again as he firmly grasped his phone and looked around.

"I…"

He began to speak, but his words were interrupted by another voice.

"Oh, thank goodness you're okay!" Sobs could be heard through the phone. "My boyfriend is dead! The neighbors are dead! The emergency number isn't answering! What is happening?! Even at home-"

He stepped back, his heart finding a glimmer of hope.

"I know!" he shouted back to her, momentarily silencing her. He then adopted a calmer and mournful tone. "I'm at their home… They're dead as well. Everyone I've seen is dead."

A moment of silence hung between the two voices. The sounds of sobbing could be heard from both ends of the call, neither able to control their emotions. However, Chump gradually grew quieter and more composed. He regained his resolve, standing firm as he slowly retreated into the house.

"Are you still there, Sis?" he asked, walking past the TV.

"Y-Yeah, I... I don't think I can handle this... I just got my life back on track and now this, and..."

"I know... I know! Listen, here's the plan. Get outside, grab your bicycle, and meet me at the main square by the river. I understand it sounds crazy, but... I think we need to meet up before we can even begin to mourn. Before anything else happens." He gestured with his free hand reflexively, without fully realizing why.

The phone remained silent for a moment, then there were sounds in the background—items bumping into each other.

His arms regained their strength.

Finally, her sister responded. "O-Okay! Alright, let's meet up there! What are you going to do?"

"I... I'll be there soon. I'm thinking it over right now," Chump replied.

"Okay... take care. See you soon, Brother."

"You too. See you, Sis."

The call ended. He looked again at the lifeless forms of those who had once been his family. Gently, he positioned his mother's head on his dad's shoulder and his dad's head on her head. Once they were arranged just so, he walked toward the hallway.

Absently scratching his arms and the back of his head, he stumbled over to a nearby wall, hitting it with his side. He muttered something under his breath.

Sobbing and hiding his face against the wall, he whispered to himself, "Hold it together. I need to meet her. Please, after finding her. Just... after her. Please. My chest feels like it's about to burst. Just for one more day. After we're done... Please... Please..."

He looked up at the ceiling, its mundane stippled finish adorned only with a regular light fixture. Yet, he felt as if those tiny drops of paint were falling into him, erasing everything he was.

Clasping his arms tightly together, he exerted pressure on his chest. He paused midway, not looking directly at them, only speaking loud enough to hear himself.

"Please rest... I'm sorry I can't give you a proper burial yet. I'll find Sis first. I'm sure you'd understand. I love you."

With a determined punch to both his legs, he nodded, feeling a pain even greater than the torment in his chest. He entered the bathroom, switched on the lights, and grabbed an empty plastic cup. Filling it with water from the faucet, he poured it over his head.

He studied his reflection while tidying up. A dried streak of blood tinted his eyes a reddish hue. His face was marked with scratches and bruises. But now he was clean.

Exiting the bathroom, he entered his bedroom—a chaotic mess of papers and equipment. He grabbed an informal briefcase, a fusion of a handbag and a briefcase. Emptying it, he organized his thoughts.

"Food. Non-perishables... Need a solar charger. Internet and phone while they're functional. Essential tools—maybe a cutter, though I'll mostly rely on other tools... Clothes, soap, my dad's guidebook of country maps... What else..."

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Pausing, he surveyed his bedroom. Each oversight, every bit of disarray, intensified his guilt, a reminder of not heeding his parents' advice. He selected a nearly empty notebook, its pages half-filled with calculus equations, and nodded decisively.

"I have a feeling. This might come in handy later." He collected some pencils into the bag. "Briefcase: Packed and ready."

He changed into his most versatile, protective, and flexible clothing available, opting for the same style but fresh and clean. He donned sturdy black shoes, bearing the generic brand emblem on the sides. He placed them in another bag he had lying around.

"Keys, cards—never know when you'll need to access areas behind electric barriers... though I could probably jump over them; no one's going to care. Mom, Dad, I have to go. I'll return, I promise. Taking the car keys too. Sorry if it gets scratched."

In a rush, he bolted out the door, slamming it shut with a resounding bang. His heavy breathing slowed him down, but anxiety pushed him forward. Exiting the building, he looked out at the city. Barely an hour had passed since everything began.

The greenish air was fading from the sky as night prevailed. Corpses filled every space—on the ground, inside cars, and behind windows. All humans, regardless of their identity, lay lifeless.

"They look really happy. Did they dream before dying? What did they dream of?... I'm losing my mind," he muttered, shaking his head. "Whatever, focus... I have to."

Outside, an unusual calmness prevailed. The city, perhaps for the first time in decades, was silent. Only a few cars still emitted smoke, most with their engines running, and a few others had collided with walls or objects to no avail. The streets seemed to exist outside of time, trapped in a cycle of lights and sounds.

Glancing around, he noticed a nearby electric bike with its owner sprawled on the road. He picked it up, looking down; his sadness and frustration were subtle, barely discernible.

"Sorry for taking it... Why am I saying this? They're already gone."

It took twice the usual time to arrive, navigating through cars, animals, corpses, and various obstacles to avoid tripping.

Random noises disrupted the peace downtown. Sounds of products, TVs, car horns, and abandoned machinery created a cacophony. The greenish hue mixed with the night, and the streetlights illuminated the area.

Before reaching his destination, something caught his eye. On a tall building, around the tenth floor, stood a figure at the edge. He accelerated towards it, ready to call out to get its attention, but then he noticed something. The figure fell.

"NononononoNONONONOO!"

Just moments before he could reach it,

Splat.

He nearly lost his balance while slowing down on the electric bike. A couple of ribs struck his left foot. He turned back and vomited beside the lifeless body.

Gazing at the main street, he felt an urge to look back fleetingly. He resisted and pressed forward. From his vantage point, he could see an entrance to the main square. Anxiety, stress, fear—these feelings manifested as a hollowness in his chest, consuming him entirely.

His instincts wavered, unsure of his next move.

He thought he might collapse at any moment, slowing down with each step, and feeling dizzy. Then, a voice reached him. He left the bicycle nearby, his senses feeling numb, the air heavy. He seemed on the verge of giving up, but a voice shattered the monotony before it could worsen.

"Bro? Brother! Over here!"

His sister, unharmed, not sleeping, not dead—she was alive and running toward him. He regained his strength, and his determination, and raced instinctively towards her. His sister was a beautiful woman, somewhat plump, with an almost hourglass figure, long brown hair with curls, and round glasses.

She wore very comfortable pajamas, seemingly having left the house without a second thought.

They embraced as though they hadn't seen each other in years, even though it had only been days since their last meeting. Hope enveloped him as he observed the scene behind her. A dozen people were awake, engaged in conversation.

The tourists were mostly quiet, barely speaking. Some were organizing themselves.

There were no more than twenty people there.

"Sister! I'm sorry... Dad and Mom..."

She hugged him tightly. "You're okay! That's all that matters right now."

They remained in each other's arms for a while. Both were tense, able to feel each other's presence. Through that quiet moment, both gradually calmed down, regaining their composure. People continued to discuss things in the background, their conversations growing more intense. Chump and his sister separated from each other, their grip loosening.

"I have food, a map—everything we need to move around. Most of the food can be used for now, but when the electricity goes out, half of it will spoil within a few days, if not hours."

Her sister chimed in, "We should head to farmland and keep an eye out for any active farms. Or maybe we can try contacting the military if there are any survivors... I don't know, this is so strange! Incredibly strange!"

He turned to glance at the others.

"Look at them! They have so little in common. Different ages, genders, constitutions..."

A person called out to the brothers, unintentionally drawing everyone's attention.

"It must be God! Testing us! Maybe it's the Rapture! 'Oh, we need a sacrifice.' He must have lost his mind, his voice and gestures were erratic, his face contorted with madness.

Chump recoiled at that thought. Amidst the mix of emotions, anger, fear, and frustration began to take over him.

Weird noises emanated from behind Chump, an odd cold breeze brushing against his back, and a blue light illuminated his arms.

A new voice emerged.

"Child of this world, you should not trust your instincts."