The Last Of Us Novels & Stories

Tristan listened in absolute silence, his dark face unreadable. "A horde broke through the lower glass," I continued, sliding the bullet into the clip with a sharp CLICK. "I shouted for him to drop the emergency ladder. I shouted at them. They never even looked back. I died. Then woke up a few weeks before the apocalypse with the LUS." A heavy, dark silence fell over the armory. Tristan didn't move. A slow, dangerous glint flared deep within his jet-black eyes—a dark, cold intensity that replaced his usual detached demeanor. His jaw tightened into an iron line.

My hand stayed inside the drawer as I listened. “…a difficult time for the country and for the world as a whole. The strange virus currently present in the air has not been identified. Scientists are working to determine the cause and develop a viable cure. In the meantime, survivors have been relocated to protected care facilities.” I left the drawer open and went back toward the television. Survivors were being taken somewhere? I had not known that. The anchor continued with an instruction. “Anyone who can hear this broadcast is strongly advised to make their way to the state capital, Columbia, South Carolina, where assistance and shelter are available…”

A faint blue screen floated right in front of my eyes: [Apocalypse Hoarding System Activated] [Countdown to Global Sub-Zero Event: 59 Days, 21 Hours, 59 Minutes] [Initial Spatial Storage Unlocked] [Current Task: Liquidate all non-essential assets and hoard maximum survival resources.]