Rapture's End [bxb]

i. after the End

This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
This is the way the world ends
Not with a bang but a whimper.
— the hollow men, t.s. elliot

❥

Hellhounds caught Jordan's scent as he was leaving Detroit.

He was in the city to trade; that last bastion of humanity, or at least the last for miles and miles. As much as he liked to pretend otherwise, Jordan couldn't do everything himself. The world was good and dead, now, and every year there was less and less to scavenge.

So he had to go into human settlements every once in a while, but usually, he avoided Detroit like the plague.

There were just too many people there.

Hundreds, even. And Jordan, who was used to traveling alone now, who was used to a dozen others at most, couldn't stand it. The noise, the heat, the smell.

Even worse was the way they looked at him.

With hope.

As if he'd bring news, good news.

Jordan knew there was no such thing.

Money might be a thing of the past, but there were valuables to be found, nonetheless. It was Jordan's job to find them, bring them to settlements like the one that used to be Detroit, and trade them for what couldn't be found.

Like a hot meal, or fresh food, or clean water.

The sentinels at the front gate let him in after he showed proof of his goods; once, they would have tested him for humanity, before they realized there was little point. If either side really wanted to get in, they would simply walk through the gates. No, it was humans you had to worry about, now.

Jordan walked down the remains of the highway offramp, his worn combat boots avoiding holes in the cement. No grass grew. No dandelions snuck up in between the cracks.

He shifted his backpack on his shoulders, banishing the thought. It had been like this for as long as he knew.

If sometimes he could remember the feeling of grass between his toes, of blowing dandelion seeds in the wind, well. That was between him and God.

Assuming there was such a thing. Jordan believed in heaven and in hell, in angels and in demons, but God?

What kind of God created a world like this?

He didn't know. And he didn't want to know.

Jordan didn't say in the city for long, unable to stand the presence of so many humans. So he left, pack heavy with supplies, and found refuge in one of the old suburbs outside of the settlement.

It was a trace of flame in the air, almost like a match being struck, that gave him his first and only warning.

He knew that smell.

It was the scent of Hellfire, of smoke and sulfur and something indescribable as anything but pure heat.

Jordan stilled where he lay, sleep still clouding his mind as the scent filled the room. A feeling almost like static electricity surrounded him, and the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck stood up.

He shivered, adrenaline rushing. His body tensed as his mind raced, and he absently thought that it was a good thing he slept with his boots on.

Perhaps if he didn't move, didn't breathe, didn't so much as blink, the Hellhounds would move on to easier prey. A meal that wouldn't fight back.