The future was dark. He had seen it. It was worse than the present. Even worse than the past.
He was on the run, fleeing his destiny. The vision was always in his mind. He knew there was nothing he could do to stop it. Nothing could change it. Still, he fled. He ran from nothing and from everything, panic always breathing him in the neck.
The mass extinction of species had gotten to a breaking point hundreds of years ago. Only the strongest, most adaptable creatures were able to survive. They did well. Cockroaches. Rats. Fungus and bacteria.
Mankind had fallen, Epidemics, hunger and war became the end of all civilization. When the nuclear plants started to leak hope was already lost a long time ago. Mutations. The cockroaches got bigger, the rats smarter. Humans were no longer on top of the food chain. They were outnumbered. Out sized. Outsmarted.
He remembered the night of the fever as if it was yesterday. The night his little family had died. His beautiful wife. She looked like she was from the early years, the time before the destruction. Almost, at least. And their child, such a lovely little boy. He was born with seven fingers, but better off than most children born these days. He had two arms, two legs. The fever didn’t care.
There, in his hallucinations, time had played a trick on him. Beside his wife’s dead body, to the sound of his son’s last moans, he had seen it. The future. The night of his death. He suddenly knew the fever wouldn’t kill him. He wished it had.
He stops. He knows this place. He turns around, but it’s too late. It always has been.
Something approached. It was no cockroach. No rat. Not even animal. A giant killing machine, created to destroy. Humanoid. Intelligent. Immortal. Destroying anything living in it’s way. Big as a mountain, hard as a tank.
He stood between the lake and the machine. He wanted to run, but there was nowhere to go. He could see tentacles searching for anything edible in the toxic shore. Cockroaches came out from holes in the ground. They’d smelled him. Driven by hunger they came charging at him. They held him down with their creepy legs. Nibbing on his skin and flesh, flawing him alive.
The giants comes closer. One stops, looks down at the scene for a moment. Amused. It lifts its foot slowly. Crushes them all, cockroaches and man, under its heel.
The giants moved on. The end of days had arrived.
This is another version of one of my older stories, The End of Days. I had some doubts when I wrote it, and later I regretted some choices. The ideas that are different in this one was already there when the first one was published. Which one do you think is better or worse?
Some background information can be found here: The Future.
And here are some links to support the message: