No one expected the power to go out. I didn’t know until it was too late. I was sat down on my couch, my hands furiously mashing on my controller, dodging bullets and spitting out curses through my headset. Dying in the game was an upset, clutching a win alone was god-like, however the game set my mind aside from the loneliness. I lived in a small, cramped apartment alone with a mediocre kitchen and a similarly mediocre bathroom. I had to pretty much fall onto the toilet and had to weasel my way to the shower which didn’t help when

I went on late night game sprees. The day that it all happened, I was in the middle of a clutch situation and, like a lightswitch, everything turned off and I stared into the darkness of the TV. I looked around the living room, noticing everything was off and I felt my hand tremble and flung my controller against the wall, shattering into a plastic shell. I sat there, cursing to myself, but a sudden knock on my door disturbed the stream of curses spilling from my lips. I stood up, walking towards the door and half-expected to see my neighbor, Ms. Shapiro, curse me out for being so damn loud.

“Ms. Shapiro, I am sorry, but” I stopped as I opened the door, expecting to see the pudgy, little woman glaring at me but that was not the sight at all. The tall, grim-faced man stared at me through dark-tinted glasses, no facial emotions showing through the clean-shaven face.

“Mr. Murro?” He asked sternly, my heart picking up more rapidly as I instantly thought the worst things. I expected him to push me down to the carpet and cuff me but he didn’t move. He kept staring at me and I nodded slowly, staring up at him with a concerned look.

“There’s been an incident and you are needing to pack your things,” He said fluently, no pronunciation flawed or stuttered over. Something was wrong. I looked outside, other men dressed the same stepping to doors and repeating the same statement to the neighborhood. I heard a wail of a woman down the street and nodded towards the man, my eyes darting around the small apartment.

“I need a few minutes, please,” I spoke softly, expecting a scowl to cross his face but, after a second, he nodded and stood still. I ran through my necessities and rushed through my apartment, snagging clothes and deodorant from my room and walked back to the doorway, nodding and walked with him. He led me to a car and ushered me in, slamming the door closed and cooly sat down in the driver’s seat, reaching down and starting the car, lurching away from the apartment. I looked out of the window, seeing some people tear-stricken, some had their hands full of clothing. Ms. Shapiro was already outside, climbing into a car as well as we sped away from it all in silence, daring not to speak or ask about anything but something kept nagging at my mind.

“Where, exactly, are we going?” I asked queasily, watching for some facial recognition of the question but none was shown through his facade. I watched and waited for a response for a few moments then turned my gaze back towards the window, staring outside but he spoke after a moment.

“There’s a safe haven on the outskirts of town. Some people are garrisoning and you’ll be separated and be sent different places. We cannot have everyone in one place, in case..” He stopped, shaking his head and suddenly went quiet. I looked towards him, confused by the last sentence, however I didn’t feel right asking the meaning of it. I stared out the window, watching the city fade into nothingness and I felt my eyes grow heavy, the sun dripping down past the horizon and the weight grew too much. My eyes fluttered shut on the normal world, not knowing that everything would change in the matter of a second.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
     Hours Before Accident: .5
“No, Tom, I don’t know what you mean,” I cooed playfully, reading through the magazine sprawled open before me, the page covered with pictures of cute singers. I reached for my red sharpie, circling one and writing ‘total hottie’ below it, smiling back at the picture of Ed Sheeran as I felt my mind wander out of existence for a moment. Tom was rambling about his girlfriend, how she was probably cheating on him with Max Raeder, the football jock. Honestly, I wouldn’t blame her; Tom wasn’t the greatest guy with girls, with his tendencies to forget about them and all.

“Mary, are you listening?” He asked, yanking my attention back to him and I rolled my eyes, closing the magazine and tossing the sharpie onto my desk. I looked up at the pictures on the outline of my mirror, the handsome men she adored and would have loved to be with..

“Yes, sorry,” I spoke, sounding as genuine as possible. “I was a bit distracted with something else.” I could feel his frown and heard him mutter something under his breath. How I hated Tom, however he was the only person who would talk to me. Everyone else was gone from my life, my brother had left when I was only 16 which, to my own defense, I didn’t blame him. Mom and Dad had passed when I was young which left him in charge and he truly tried. He had juggled multiple jobs to keep us afloat and, since I was old enough, he decided that he wanted to live his own life. The day he left, he gave me a phone and $500, telling me to use it only for necessary things and for an apartment. After four years of being alone, I was able to get a stable job and had a good apartment but yet I didn’t feel fulfilled or happy with myself. I was, truly, alone; I had no true friends who I could depend on and it didn’t help that I wasn’t the best-looking girl.

“Anyways, I’m gonna go.. Talk later?”, Tom asked, inviting the thought of another four hours of his rambling. I sighed quietly and looked at the clock, noting that it was about six in the afternoon.

“We will see, I’ve got to eat and I’ve got to catch up on work,” I said and clicked the call off, tossing the phone onto the bed and burying my face in the comforter. I looked up at the mirror again, realizing how childish I felt and sighed, rolling out of the bed and walking downstairs. I just got to the stairs when, suddenly, everything flicked off, silence pursuing the sudden dreariness of the house. I walked downstairs and instantly walked to the kitchen, snagging the matches and started to light a candle when a heavy knock came from my door.

I stopped, staring at the door, and slowly moved towards it, the knock came again. I looked out the peephole, the dark-shaded glasses of the man staring at me taking my breath. Something was, most definitely, wrong. I slowly opened the door, looking at the man dressed in a black suit, a white undershirt with a black tie running down the shirt like a zebra stripe.

“Ms. Neife?” He asked, butchering the pronunciation of my last name, however I shoved it aside and nodded. The man seemed firm, he didn’t seem distraught or angry, he just wore a mask of emotionless grit. He sighed, as if releasing air from his lungs in an expectancy of the wrong person, and his face suddenly untensed.
“There has been an incident and I need you to come with us,” he said, as if rehearsed a million times before this day. I stared for a moment and I instantly grabbed my purse and an overnight bag stuffed full of clothes and walked with him. He opened the car door for me quietly and waited for me to climb in before closing it, walking to the driver’s door and climbing in. As he started the car, I looked back towards the city and saw smoke rising from the farther reaches of the city and could tell something was truly wrong.

“What has happened, if I might ask?” I asked, staring at him as he pulled away from the curb, settling his hands on the steering wheel, his eyes masked behind his shaded glasses but I could feel his stare. I eased into my seat and stared out the window, looking out at the people scurrying to vehicles similar to the car I was in. The same-looking men opened the doors and helped the citizens outside, some people didn’t want to leave and fought tooth and nail to stay. The more I looked at the urgency of the men in black, the more I realized the severity of it, the cars all disorganized on the street, fighting for space.

“There was an attack and the city is being evacuated in case of the worst,” He quietly said, the air from my lungs being sucked out by a vacuum and vanished. I grabbed the door, struggling to find words and stared out the window in confusion. He mentioned that we were going to a safe place and being separated into separate groups, the thought of being seperated with a small handful of others gave me some hope. I looked back the city, the smoke growing darker and more pockets of smoke appeared as the sun faded out and blinked out of existence.