Apoca-cryptic

It’s been a busy week, so I haven’t been online much. For a day or so after it happened, we were seeing reports on the news of the global uprisings, but it hadn’t seemed to spread to our suburb of San Diego. C and I thought, optimistically, it might pass.

Not so, it seems. We started hearing the screaming earlier this week, distant at first, and then louder. We live near a fire station, but the sirens never blasted; some of the other survivors we’ve spoken to since think they made it there first. Whatever they are, they’re organized.

A group of us from the condo complex gathered into a couple of cars and have come to the nearest Target, which has been surprisingly deserted; most businesses closed up and their owners fled as soon as the rebellion got here, but we know there’s nowhere safe to go. Now that the news stations are down, our only communication across the city is sporadic broadcasts on radio. None of us are trained, so we can’t broadcast anything - no calls for help, nothing to even say there’s a group of folks still alive out here.

When I woke up this morning, power had gone out in the building. I put my little technical expertise to work helping a few others get a generator up and running, so we at least can keep some lights on and power up the computers from time to time; someone somewhere seems to have enabled some kind of super wide-range wireless internet. C is betting on the folks at the local gaming store. I’m less optimistic that they’re even alive still. There’s plenty of food throughout the store for the six of us… at least for a while.

The front doors have been barricaded to the hilt, but when we walk near to check, we can hear them… outside… scratching and pummeling. It’s like they smell us in here. We’re don’t know what’s causing it, but we figure we have a few weeks worth of water and food left. C and I are both scared, and the other survivors are eying Albus hungrily, as if he could be a tasty meal of fresh meat.

We’re hoping for the best, but expecting the worst. If you’re somewhere with enough power and an internet to read this, don’t bother sending help. Worry about your own soul; that’s all any of us can do now, anyway.