Thoughts

The Child Apocalypse: Three

Forty nine years.

Forty nine years in hiding and remaining undetected.

Nothing came his way and nothing stayed long enough to notice him. That had been the life he lived ever since Maggie Carter died forty nine years ago.

He ventured out into the world every now and then when he needed to replenish his supplies but that was on the occasional day. Plus his escapades above ground were only necessary because he feared for his sanity if he stayed in one area alone.

It had gotten lonely after the first six years of solitude. No one to speak with. No one to hear speaking back. Just an empty clattering of the mansion above that was a reminder of a life he could never have.

Yet he stayed anyway.

This was his home. And this was his penance for slaying the woman whom he was supposed to love without any conditions. He was to live in this haven she had created for him as long as he could. Those were her last wishes and he was to see them through no matter what.

By the tenth year it became evident that he was not aging. Nothing about his appearance seemed different. The thought he could live her until his time came to join his mother in a world where children could love their parents. But it seemed time was not going to be an ally to that journey.

He thought several times about ending it himself. But everytime the thought came, he would just get mad and break something. His anger was just as violent as the first time. So he decided to venture out into the open world. If death would meet him out there, then all the more worth it.

He however would not stay a week away from his home. That was one among the only two rules he had. He had never broken it until this past two weeks. He was running low on gas for the generator. He had long since drained the four gas stations in town so it meant a trip to Birmingham. It was by far the most dangerous thing he had ever done. Even with his endurance and longevity, he could still be killed if enough effort was put into it.

Birmingham was 148.56 square miles of danger. The adults who lived there had fortified the barriers with weapons that even he knew he could not survive. But he needed the gas. There was no way he could survive a week without watching something on the television screen.

So he chose his day and ventured to the town on foot. The car would obviously draw too much attention, and he was not so miffed about walking. The upsides to his mutation were starting to seem good to him after his many years of loathing them.

Slipping into the city was not a problem at all. He had his stature that mainly resembled an adult to thank for that. But there was no getting away from the fact that drawing any amount of gasoline from the pump would alert the authorities of an authorized access.

He was very lucky to have made out with a jerry can of gas and an injured right arm. The bullet had torn clean through so he had no problem with lead poisoning. The wound would heal up in the week it would take him to make his way back home.

He was a few meters from the house when he sensed something was amiss. The downpour was strong but he could still hear as clearly as if it was the normal quiet of the night. There were people in the house. Were they looking for him? Did they track him back to the house? There was no time for questions. He was going to tear them to pieces if either one of them dared mess with his stuff.

He rarely used them, but his fighting skills were just a notch higher than your normal soldier. He had downed two of the officers circling the perimeter before he made his way through the back door of the kitchen. That was when he heard the order to find her using lethal force.