RBH-1. The Destroyer. The Final Coming. The Rogue Wanderer. In recent days, these names have come to mean the same thing: the end of the world. A rogue black hole, approximately the mass of Saturn and ominously named "The Rogue Wanderer", had been detected by astronomers. Its trajectory was set to bring it alarmingly close to our solar system.
During the initial phase of its approach, this cosmic entity began its disruption. The orbits of distant celestial bodies were the first to be affected. Comets and asteroids, once following predictable paths, were now careening in dangerous, unforeseen directions.
As it drew nearer, Earth's tides responded with increasing volatility. Predictions mounted of impending volcanic eruptions, earthquakes, and severe storms. Even neighboring planets Mars and Venus showed visible signs of deformation. By the week's end, chaos had erupted, primarily within major cities and their outskirts. Meanwhile, others rushed to unite with loved ones, bracing for the cataclysm.
Predictions were grim: even the passing by of The Wanderer spelled disaster. The planet might tear itself apart. Earthquakes of unimaginable magnitude, coupled with super-volcanoes, were expected to wreak global havoc. Oceans could rise in colossal tidal waves, intent on erasing all in their path. And in regions spared from these devastations, storms of unprecedented ferocity threatened to scour the planet clean. Even if by some miracle the sun and system survived, it was all but guaranteed that life on Earth would not.
Gage
By the third day, the town was mostly deserted. The realization that the grim announcement wasn’t a prank had finally sunk in, prompting most to flee. This left him and a few others behind. Even though it wasn’t in an immediate danger zone, few believed that their little town, nestled in a canyon in southern Utah, would withstand the first powerful tremors.
"All for the better," he mused, his phone now a lifeless relic in his hands. By the fourth day, every crucial call, tearful goodbye, and heartfelt reflections had been made. He stood before the mirror, the last item to be moved, and smiled at his reflection. His hair, styled into a short faux-hawk and impulsively dyed pink on the sixth day, seemed almost defiant. "Not like anyone's going to see it," he whispered to himself. The pink hair was spiky on top, with the sides buzzed close, complementing the light stubble on his chin. He wore a casual long-sleeve top, loosely buttoned at the neck, sleeves pushed up to his forearms. His pants were modern harem-style: baggy with a drop-crotch design, tapering to cuffed ankles, secured at the waist with a drawstring. His hazel eyes blinked back at him from the mirror, a brief anchor to reality. With a sigh, he took a few minutes to carry the mirror down the hall, packing it away with the remnants of his bedroom. All that remained was a solitary mattress, adorned with a pillow and a blanket.
His life, condensed into a few rooms. Moving in a few years back had felt so liberating, his first taste of independence. That sense of freedom had been short-lived before things had gotten a little lonely. He quickly rectified this by getting a dog. Eshu, a little corgi pup, named after his favorite deity from his school studies. "So much for all that," he sighed, the wind's increasing howl outside redirecting his thoughts.
He walked back to the now sparse bedroom, where Eshu lay on the mattress. "Hey puppers, hey," he said softly, sitting down to pet the dog as his little tail wagged back and forth. "It's okay. Shh, it's bedtime, yeah? Time for bed." His fingers clenched Eshu's fur as his vision blurred, the dog's form dissolving into a brown and black blur. "When we wake up, it will be... it will..." His voice trailed off, but Eshu's comforting lick on his face brought a weak smile.
Their fleeting moment of calm was shattered by the walls rattling, dust was knocked from the ceiling as something in another room crashed to the ground. Eshu whined, pressing close as a distant landslide roared through the storm's wail. "See puppers, it's okay. Those big mean rocks won't get us. We'll be buried by the storm, right? It'll be fi-" He was cut off as the room suddenly jolted. "ESHU!" he yelled, as they were flung apart. The building convulsed, the ground beneath rolling violently, tossing them about the room. "ESHU!" He reached desperately for his dog, a futile attempt to protect him. Then his head slammed against a wall, and the world went dark.
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An ache in his head was the first sensation as he woke – a dull, pervasive pain that extended down his spine and throbbed in his joints. His first breath induced a fit of coughing, the air thick with dust. Managing to pull his shirt over his mouth with one hand, he took slow, shallow breaths, filtering the dusty air as best he could. With his other hand, he wiped the grim from his eyes, squinting to assess his surroundings. The room was cloaked in dust and sand, giving the scattered light a yellow, golden hue.
The light? His gaze shifted upwards, noting a corner of the room had collapsed, allowing a stream of what he hoped was sunlight to filter in. The mattress lay across the room, the blankets bunched in a corner, and the pillow had been flung into the hallway. Panic momentarily overshadowed his pain. “Eshu?” he called, his voice hoarse. “ESHU!” Another coughing fit seized him as he struggled to stand, leaning against the wall for support.
A faint, muffled whine grabbed his attention. “Eshu? Where are you, puppers?” The whine came again, clearer now. He stumbled towards the blankets, frantically unraveling them until he uncovered Eshu, who immediately began to sneeze. With a mix of panic and relief, he embraced the dog, dragging the blanket over them to shield from the dust.
As he covered the both of them, a sharp pain shot through his head, reminding him of the earlier impact. Carefully, he probed his scalp, wincing as he touched the crusted blood and tender scab. Eshu, nestled in his lap, appeared unharmed, save for a few bruises and tender spots. Relieved that nothing seemed broken, he held Eshu close, their shared warmth a small comfort amid the devastation.
Gage's mind was a tumult of confusion and fear as he sat in the bedroom, Eshu clutched in his arms. "Wasn't the world supposed to end?" he whispered, his voice nearly lost in the soft whimpers of his dog. The reality of their situation seemed surreal. Had the cataclysmic path of the Wanderer not been as devastating as predicted, or was this just a temporary reprieve before a more severe aftermath? An eerie silence enveloped the outside world, a stark contrast to anything he had ever known. As time ticked by, his curiosity and desperation for answers intensified. He knew he needed to see for himself what lay beyond his home's confines.
Mustered by resolve, Gage climbed through the hole in the corner of the room, with Eshu following his lead. Emerging into the daylight, the sun's harsh glare momentarily blinded him, its heat instantly oppressive. As his vision adjusted, he faced a desolate, awe-inspiring landscape. Endless desert stretched in every direction. His house was nearly buried in sand, with only parts of the roof visible. The familiar landscape of streets and buildings had transformed into an alien terrain of sand dunes. He pondered the absence of the surrounding plateaus – if they had collapsed, wouldn't his house have been crushed by rock, not sand?
"This is bad, Eshu!" He called back into the house. "We're still in the desert, but it's different now, more... expansive?" He descended back inside, rejoining Eshu. "Staying here isn't an option, buddy. If this is really the end, we don't have enough resources to survive." Eshu tilted his head, panting in the increasing heat. "Let's gather what we can. We'll travel at dusk, or maybe wait until dawn." Survival was paramount, and they needed supplies.
The search for supplies was daunting, but at least it was rather cool in the darker depths of the house. The building had been shaken to its core, and many things were buried or broken. He scoured the kitchen first, salvaging food, both canned and otherwise. One of the good things about living in an area that had had lots of hiking was that he already had a CamelPak or two. Even better, after he filled them, and a couple of water bottles, up, he was able to stick them in the freezer. Despite the now lack of power, it was still quite cold inside.
From the garage, he pulled out a backpack, his personal tent, and a few tools that could come in handy. His next stop was the bathroom, where he gathered first aid supplies, toiletries, and extra towels. Every find was a small victory, a glimmer of hope in their bleak situation. With each item he packed, Gage's resolve strengthened. They were not going to give up. This was just the beginning of their journey through a world reborn.
In the cooler, darker areas of the house, he set about packing the gear by the glow of a portable lantern. Eshu, distracted with a short rope toy, played nearby. Gage periodically rose to check the sun's progression across the sky. However, after about an hour, a throbbing headache set in, a reminder of the trauma he had recently endured. After ensuring Eshu had water and food, he turned off the lantern, took some Ibuprofen, and lay down. As he closed his eyes, he hoped the headache wasn't a sign of a concussion, succumbing to his overwhelming exhaustion.
He awoke abruptly, inhaling sharply. Something had woken him, but what? Disoriented, he took a moment to orient himself before pushing up into a sitting position. His eyes found Eshu, who was sitting motionless, his gaze fixed down the hall towards the bedroom. Gage's eyes followed suit, noticing the golden daylight had given way to silvery moonlight. He had slept through to the night. As he started to stand, a low growl from Eshu halted him. He remembered the last time Eshu growled like that – it was a warning about a coyote during a camping trip with some friends. Glancing towards the doorway, he noticed the moonlight flickering, as if something was moving at the hole outside.