They’d warned us it was happening. We’d seen it too. We just didn’t know when it would actually happen. What we did know was that we’d had a string of natural disasters in quick succession, one after the other. We’d exhausted almost all of our resources in the aftermath of those. Now we were just watching and waiting for the big one. I could feel the tension in my bones; whatever was about to happen, it wouldn’t be pretty. It would destroy everything.
The day started just like any other day. I woke up and prepared myself the best I could, keeping a close eye on what was happening outside my house. It was eerily quiet; no one was around.
I ventured outside, picking my way through debris. It was slow going; I had to watch my every step to keep from falling. Eventually, I made it into town. Debris were everywhere; there was evidence of clean up, but it still looked like a giant trash heap.
I saw a few people, but not many. I couldn’t blame them for staying where they were. They were probably right to do so; by any logic, it seemed the safest option.
And then we heard it. The rumbling of the ground underneath us. I saw the ground split like a fault line. I jumped to one side to get out of the way, and then I ran. Ran as if my life depended on it. Because it kind of did. I didn’t have a clear direction; all I knew was that I had to get as far away from the earthquake as I possibly could. After a mile or so, I stopped to catch my breath and look around at the damage. Everything as far as the eye could see had either exploded or imploded.