Michael Leason (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
afterpromise) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
papertown2015-08-12 10:20 pm
afterpromise) wrote in papertown2015-08-12 10:20 pm
But I'm down here low, fussin' over scars on my soul;
[ Michael tries not to, but he can't help but count the days. He knows exactly how much time has passed since the world started to die; Five years, six months, two days, five hours. He had been there, when the first test of the Demeter Project failed. He hadn't been responsible, his department was a small one, he had been low on the proverbial totem pole. Still, he had been there he had seen the problem start, watched as the carefully designed containment area melted away like it was nothing.
He wasn't to blame, but he still blamed himself for the state of the world, the state of his life, the unknown state of his wife and daughter. Were they safe? Did they make it somewhere they could live happily, even if for a little while? He hopes so, even though he knows it's unlikely. The world is harsh and unforgiving, and he's lucky to have survived as long as he did. It's not that he thinks his wife incapable, but they had been a normal family before. They had been average, and it's the average people that got screwed in the long run, at least that's what he's seen from the way the world's become. The only reason he's still alive is he stays close to the contamination, too close for the comfort of looters and murderers.
Michael picks through through an abandoned town. Even the last of the scavengers have deserted and deemed it too risky to stay. Only Michael knew that the town had a few weeks left, before it becomes as uninhabitable as the rest of the south. He's not there for supplies, though. Those would be long gone by now, and his pack has enough provisions to last him a while. No, he's there for the library.
It's a strange thing to look for in the middle of the apocalypse, but mystery novels are the only solace he's had since everything went to shit. He's pretty sure they're the only thing keeping him sane, and he's already read the three in his pack ten, twenty times. Which is a feat, considering he lost his glasses years ago. It takes him twice as long to decipher the blurry letters, which is alright by him. It's just another mystery to solve, another way to distract himself.
In the Library, he hunts for the mysteries and scans the shelves for something with an interesting binding. Instead, he finds a large book shoved on it's side, the pages facing up. Curious, he reaches to grab the book, and is surprised to meet resistance. He pulls harder, mumbling to himself. ]
Oh come on, y'old thing.
He wasn't to blame, but he still blamed himself for the state of the world, the state of his life, the unknown state of his wife and daughter. Were they safe? Did they make it somewhere they could live happily, even if for a little while? He hopes so, even though he knows it's unlikely. The world is harsh and unforgiving, and he's lucky to have survived as long as he did. It's not that he thinks his wife incapable, but they had been a normal family before. They had been average, and it's the average people that got screwed in the long run, at least that's what he's seen from the way the world's become. The only reason he's still alive is he stays close to the contamination, too close for the comfort of looters and murderers.
Michael picks through through an abandoned town. Even the last of the scavengers have deserted and deemed it too risky to stay. Only Michael knew that the town had a few weeks left, before it becomes as uninhabitable as the rest of the south. He's not there for supplies, though. Those would be long gone by now, and his pack has enough provisions to last him a while. No, he's there for the library.
It's a strange thing to look for in the middle of the apocalypse, but mystery novels are the only solace he's had since everything went to shit. He's pretty sure they're the only thing keeping him sane, and he's already read the three in his pack ten, twenty times. Which is a feat, considering he lost his glasses years ago. It takes him twice as long to decipher the blurry letters, which is alright by him. It's just another mystery to solve, another way to distract himself.
In the Library, he hunts for the mysteries and scans the shelves for something with an interesting binding. Instead, he finds a large book shoved on it's side, the pages facing up. Curious, he reaches to grab the book, and is surprised to meet resistance. He pulls harder, mumbling to himself. ]
Oh come on, y'old thing.