“…as the next couple hundred seconds passed: Jen stood watch in the snow, Brennachecke bled on the couch, and Bobby-Leigh pumped her legs and transcended it all on the swing.”
The end of the world as we know it didn’t just happen in a single incident like flipping a switch or dropping a bomb. The endings that matter come up on you slowly, like cancer, like global-warming, like an asteroid hundreds of millions of miles away. They creep in and anchor themselves in motion before you even know what they are or where they’re coming from, so that by the time you know anything at all, it’s pretty much already too late.
At least that is how it was for us.
As incident after incident of bizarre and horribly violent rampages slowly became the new normal, fear of being stuck with somebody who inexplicably might go berserk and murder everybody around you, kept people home more and more. But it wasn’t until the maintenance of the infrastructure that kept the lights on and water running was neglected and started to fail that people recognized the apocalypse for what it was.
The berserkers, as they came to be known, could be anyone. A stranger. A friend. A loved one. You could even be one yourself and not know it until you woke up covered in blood, surrounded by the bodies of your victims and spitting out your own teeth.
Welcome to the long apocalypse. Pull up a chair and make yourself comfortable. The world has been ending for a while now, but it still has a long way to go.