The Day He Vanished And What Followed

Chapter Three

Merely semi-conscious of his surroundings, Michigan fought to stay awake. Both of his legs were broken. He had been sitting in this damn room for a few days now. Around him was a massacre, the only state which seemed to be awake or even alive being himself. He looked around and his mind protested. He felt like crying.

The world felt like it was frozen, like time itself had stopped. They were all dead. Was he really the only survivor? In his grief, he couldn't seem to find anyone missing from his location on the floor. Michigan didn't see that man anymore, either.... The one man which had taken what seemed to be all fifty states at once and had won. How could one man have done that? And then he remembered... Texas and Hawaii had gone to get help and had not returned. He silently started crying. He was so hungry yet disgusted that he felt like he was going to vomit. How long would he be stuck here for? How long until someone, anyone came for him?

Where was USA? Had Michigan's country made it out alive? Michigan did not see him in the room. Should he dare to crawl past the bodies, through the blood? He couldn't walk, not on two beyond-broken legs and weak arms. Michigan leaned to the side, then rolled onto his stomach. It made his head spin. The desperate state used his exhausted arms and wiggled his torso, slowly dragging himself through the corpses of his fellow states, his neighbors, his allies.... He would never see them alive again, and it broke his heart. But he had to live now. Michigan could not give up on himself just yet.

He made it to the door. Immediately, he saw a shattered vase laying at the base of a table in a pool of water with a single, wilting rose. The terrifying entity had surely been here, had followed USA. Had there been a struggle? Pain shot up his back.

That was enough crawling for now. Michigan panted and rested on his chest, resting his head on his forearms as he regained his will to move.