Twisted metal screeched and concrete groaned as a skyscraper tumbled down, rubble and smoke ascending into the sky like the dark clouds of a forest fire.
City streets were torn apart and bent violently upward, rising and falling as if the earth underneath was breathing.
As the land broke apart and sea rose,
A Child fell into the all consuming ground, her screams a distant echo as chunks of earth and concrete snuffed out her falling cries.
A woman kneeled beside her bleeding lover, blood and dust smeared on her white skirt as her lovers head lay on her lap, his head limp and pale.
Her hands were soaked red as she pressed down frantically on the open wound in his chest that bled like a flowing river. The shock too much and her sight blinded by the abundance of tears that perfused from her eyes to see that the light in her lovers was long gone.
Another soul lost into the bowels of Los Angeles.
The city was screaming. People like deranged ants were a mess and running in every direction. Blocks of houses continuously slipping into the voids that cracked and opened up all around. It was chaos.
The air was nothing but dust and falling buildings in the heart of the city, the piers and beaches swallowed whole by the depths of the north pacific ocean.
The surface ground was a deadly obstacle course of crumbling holes and fallen electrical wires, igniting sparks of flames that would soon add to the destruction and death toll.
The land was entirely destabilized. Significant portions of the city were either divided by a large gaping tear in the ground, leveled completely and buried beneath the rubble, or being swept away by the oncoming waves of the ocean.
In a matter of minutes, the heart of Los Angeles broke into a thousand little pieces.
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*2 months earlier*
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Nick moaned loudly, gripping tight onto the shoulders hovering above him.
"Harder." He begged, nails gliding down hard on Wade's back.
Another rough thrust and Wade had collapsed on him, the delicate curves of his body glinting with sweat as he rest his chest onto Nick's, their sweaty bodies rubbing on one another. Abs intricate and tempting, delicious in every wicked sense Nick could think of. And he wanted to throw up. Wade rested his head on Nicks shoulder, panting slightly and smelling of booze and grease.
Nick pushed him off with disgust, rolling off the lavish bed and slipping on some expensive tight sweatpants that hung low on his thin hips, accentuating his firm bum.
He dragged a smoke.
It had been the 4th time he's been in Wade Forresters bed, rolled in his sheets and given himself to him. He wanted to die.
Another intake of nicotine.
Death and sex always on his mind. An inner battle between his delusions in his mind and raging hormones. But Wade gave him what he wanted, albeit the cost being midnight sex sessions that sometimes lasted hours and someone to hold onto while sleeping.
A puff of smoke.
Nick didn't mind, didn't mind the mindless sex, the bruises, the soreness, wet kisses down his back, and pulls in his pants but ultimately, he felt nothing for Wade. Absolutely nothing.
Wade was an object, just like Nick was an object to Wade. He got what he wanted and that's all that matters. Being fucked was simple compromise.
Sex for money and drugs. In his head, it was all relatively simple to him. His highs were essential in his contingency to exist.
YOU ARE READING
These Last Days
Science Fiction2033. the world we knew has grown poor, weak and mad. Famine reigns across the oceans and overpopulation decimates the system. Canada and the USA have merged into one, pooling in their resoures to ensure the continuity of our species. alliances are...
