Capítulo 8: Guillotine
Some things don't change. Many decades before the rapture, there was an outbreak of a lethal strain of the flu. Usually, the symptoms of the flu consist of a fever, muscle aches, cough, congestion, headaches, and fatigue. This strain made the existing symptoms worse, and it even added one more symptom. Hysteria.
Hallucinations were not uncommon when infected. But these would be nightmarish hallucinations. Imagine what otherwise healthy individuals would think when they are suddenly being dealt schizophrenia level delirium, when they have never experienced anything of the sort before.
This was a worldwide phenomenon. People are easily fooled. Some have even been tricked into thinking even the most nonsensical dreams have meaning. Now imagine when two people on opposite sides of the world have a fairly similar hallucination. It was quickly theorized that this was something supernatural. It got so big that even the biggest news media was spreading these stories of two people having the "exact same hallucinations."
In reality, no two people experienced the same thing during their delirium, but some were similar. But when you have three billion infected people, there are bound to be some coincidental similarities.
This quickly evolved into mass hysteria. Billions of people thought the world was ending because a few people had similar visions. Riots took place. Stores were looted. There was nothing left for the less fortunate. This lasted months. This almost spelled the demise of entire world economies. No one showed up to work. No one payed for the items they selfishly looted. Militaries were used against the people they swore to protect. After a year, things were almost back to normal.
Many countries had placed harsh restrictions on their citizens to prevent something like this happening again. The United States even did this, violating their constitution. Curfews, blocking certain sites on the internet, restricting speech. The right to self defense? Not anymore. Most guns were stripped away from the citizens. If you were to break even the most minor of rules, you'd be forced into labor camps for years on end. This was now less to prevent the preceding events, but more of a nationwide punishment for what they've caused.
Four decades later, a rift opened over the Atlantic sea. For the first time, this was actually something supernatural. This rift gave way for millions of monsters to bring hell upon the earth.
Some things don't change. After forty years, riots broke out again in light of monsters slaughtering people all around the world. Cities were burnt down by their own citizens. The blood of civil people was spilled in battles for supplies. Governments collapsed worldwide.
Then there was the nuclear incident. This is what marked the final straw. It wasn't just governments collapsing now. The world itself collapsed. Over fifty consecutive nuclear strikes shot hundreds of tons of soot and dirt into the atmosphere, blocking the sunlight and cooling the earth down to freezing temperatures.
Two decades into the rapture, and almost any store you go to will be completely empty, stripped of every item that was once inside it.
Lucas found himself ignoring most stores, not bothering to look through them. He doesn't need to eat or drink, and he can do without most supplies. That's the benefit of being immortal. When climbing up a cliff, he doesn't need any tool to help him climb. It would be more convenient, however to say that he would need it would be a lie. He can simply retry no matter how many times he falls down.
But now? Lucas finds himself looking through all of the stores in that tiny town in the valley for tools. Tools not for himself, but the mortal that follows behind him. Stella and her baby have one life. They cannot afford to fall, so they need every tool at their disposal.
After being traumatized by the body in the convenience store, Stella would wait outside while Lucas scavenges around for anything potentially useful. It was a tall order trying to find anything intact, let alone worth taking, but he sifted through mounds of trash anyway.
The sun had begun to set. All he had found so far was a dull pocket knife, matches, and a watch. It had stopped working of course, the battery having run out, but it was still a neat find.
The watch was covered in dry dirt. He picked at it for a moment, but there was too much for him to clean off with just his finger. He decided to take it anyway. He put it on his wrist, dusting off the case. It was tight on him. The strap had a buckle which could be adjusted, but even then it was still a tight fit. He took it off and shoved it into his pocket. He wasn't sure what he was going to do with it, but he would keep it. He saw it as a collector's item of sorts.
Lucas was in a general store. A pretty large one a that, especially when considering the small size of the town. It was dark. Really dark. He relied primarily on his sense of touch to guide him through the store. It didn't help that the glare of the sun had already disappeared behind the mountains, and all natural light was pretty much gone at this point.
He had tried a light switch, thinking that since this town had power the lights would turn on, but this store, as well as a couple others in its proximity, didn't have any access to that power. Maybe something had gone wrong with the wiring. Perhaps the lack of maintenance had degenerated the power grid, preventing some buildings from receiving any power. Whatever it was, it was very inconvenient.
Lucas considered bringing Stella inside to help him look for stuff. There was no way to see anything, so even if there were dead bodies in there, she wouldn't be effected by it. Even so, Lucas discouraged himself from asking for her help. He didn't know why he felt this way. He reasoned that since he has been through more, he has seen more, he has done more, he should take on the trauma. He'd feel bad subjecting her to the horrors of the world they lived in.
Plus, if there was a dangerous apostle in there, he should be the one taking all the damage, being immortal and all.
As he was looking through a pile of trash, he felt something peculiar. It was soft, kind of squishy. He struggled pulling it out of the pile, but with enough brute force, it came out. He could not see what it was. He tried figuring it out by feeling it with his finger. Was this… a hand?
Lucas gasped. Air traveled down his larynx, but never reached his lungs. He had hit the ground, being pushed over by something. He didn't know what pushed him. He only knew that he had, I mean, how else did he fall? He tried to move his body, but nothing worked. His body wouldn't listen to his mind. He felt a hot pain in his throat. His throat was burning. It was boiling. Lucas tried to yell for help but not a peep escaped his mouth.
His neck. What was wrong with his neck? Where was his body, why won't it move, was he paralyzed? He couldn't breathe, but he didn't feel like he was suffocating. He had experienced suffocation before. It was his least favorite way to die. The fear of suffocation was a primordial fear built into the human psyche, triggered by a buildup of too much carbon dioxide. However, despite not being able to breathe, he wasn't suffocating. What was happening?
He tried lifting his head to try and see his body, but he couldn't. He didn't feel it. It wasn't there. Only his head. His head. Jesus Christ, his head had come off.
PENSAMENTOS DOS CRIADORES 
MichaelCK
MichaelCK Spooky cliffhanger!!
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