MDW:

Hello! Here is another interlude generated with the help of an A.I.

I submitted a prompt to the A.I. and it would give me a paragraph or two. Sometimes it was all nonsensical, sometimes it was a cool idea. I would get these cool ideas, change a few words, and feed it back to the A.I.

What you see below is considered story canon and the result of a few dozen back and forth interactions with the A.I.

*

*

*

*

Downtown Connector, Atlanta, Georgia. Monday, October 7th, 2019. 17:30.

My name is John, and the world ended at rush hour. This is the story of how I died.

Trapped in the interstate, glass whizzed past my head. They hammered into my shoulder, clawing my skin like some tiny, sharp-toothed beast. Pain ripped through me. I crashed into the rear seat, my right arm flopping onto the back of the seat.

My car was shoved around by the others, lurching backward. Had this been some horrible, pre-designed ploy by some unknown superpower? I craned my neck, looking for a way out, but he was nowhere in sight.

"Oh, God," I said. The skin on my right arm was already turning red. The world spun around me. My stomach clenched. I'd only just started to regain my senses. This was how I was going to die, alone in the car. I was going to be one of the millions of corpses in the world's largest and longest graveyard.

I saw meteors falling everywhere. I was going to die, and this time I would never see my family again. A part of me wanted to give in. I was still struggling to stay alive. It was as if the world had closed in around me. I was the only person left. I was alone in a sea of crashed cars. No one would ever know what had happened to me. My body would be left to the animals.

I didn't know what was happening anymore. I was losing the fight to remain conscious.

"No, no, no, no..." I started to moan. The pain was so intense that I couldn't form words.

There was a screeching sound. It seemed to come from everywhere at once. I looked around. The sky was a boiling mass of light and smoke.

"No!" I screamed and tried to open my door. It was jammed. I screamed again. The screeching sound grew louder. I couldn't tell if it was coming from the sky or inside the car.

The world went white. I was thrown back to the front seat, my head smashing into the dashboard. The screeching sound stopped, and everything went black.

I woke up to the sound of screaming. It was coming from my left. I looked around and realized that I was no longer in the car. I had no idea how I got out. My hand was throbbing, and I couldn't see properly. I tried to open my eyes, but they felt like they were glued shut. I took a deep breath. My body felt like it was on fire. I had to get out of here.

I raised my head, my vision blurred by tears, and saw the woman. She was lying on the back seat, her right arm stretched out and her eyes staring at me. She was crying, weeping her last tears. She was going to die. I had to help her.

I managed to get my right arm under her and lift her to a sitting position. Her eyes were wide, her mouth open, and her chest was heaving. The sound of her crying filled the air. Her eyes were the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen.

I looked around for something to use to stop her bleeding, but there was nothing. All I could do was keep her company. I would drive her to a hospital if I could. Alas, we were trapped in the mass of metal.

I wrapped my arms around her and held her until she drew her last breath. Then she went silent and unmoving.

"Please, God, no," I whispered. I sobbed and rocked her body back and forth, my head pressed against the window. I felt so bad for her, but I had no other choice.

There was nothing I could do for her. I turned my attention to the road. I could see the freeway up ahead. The only exit was blocked. There was nowhere to go. I had to sit here and wait for the end of the world.

I sat there until the sun began to set. I sat with the woman, holding her hand until I could feel her fingers start to grow cold.

Then the dead started to rise. The sun went down.

"Oh, God, please..." I whimpered. I could hear the dead stirring inside their cars, hellish energy empowering their unliving bodies. I was afraid they were going to get out of their cars and tear me to pieces. I prayed to God that they would not. I didn't know if what I witnessed was real or not, but I had to get out of there.

I climbed on top of the pile of crashed cars. Behind me, Atlanta burned. The dead would be on the move soon, and they would get out of their cars and kill me. I could see them approaching. The dead were starting to crawl out of their cars, their bodies bloody and torn. They were moving toward me, their mouths open, their eyes glaring. They would be coming soon.

I struggled to move as my whole body burned. Was I turning into one of them? I was afraid of what would happen to me, but I couldn't stay here and let the undead kill me. I started to climb down, to get out of the interstate. I looked around and saw cars crashed all along, not a single strip of pavement visible.

Then I saw the dead man. He was outside his car, staring at me with a maniacal expression. His arms ended long blades that thirsted for my flesh. I tried to scream, but no sound came out of my open mouth. It was too late. He had already set his murder intent on me, his mouth open like an anglerfish, showing two-inch long sharp teeth.

I screamed as loud as I could, but he was too quick. He was on me.

I held my hands up in front of me, trying to stop him. I felt the nails of my right hand digging into my palms as I pulled them apart. I felt the hot blood flow, soaking my shirt and running down my arm. I tried to push him away, but he was too strong. He had my body pinned.

He started to claw at my face. I heard his nails tearing at my skin, and I couldn't stop it.

I felt the life leave my body. Something else replaced it. The bad-thing. It took hold of my mind and my soul. I became a passenger of my own being. I rose and in the bad-thing we were all together. I sensed the living, and a deep hatred settled in my heart of hearts. Why me? It wasn't fair.

I should go and drag them to be with me. Only then I would have peace.

*

*

Montreal, Canada. Monday, October 7th, 2019. 17:30.

In an office, a woman was about to call it a day when a commotion happened.

Lorna watched as downtown Montreal was flooded with thousands of people who rushed to the windows of the buildings overlooking Saint-Laurent Boulevard, the main artery of the city.

Outside, meteors fell everywhere. The sky was darkened by the smoke trailing form the burning petards. The sky burned. It seemed to have no way out. She felt they were doomed.

"I have to get out of here," Lorna mumbled. Instead of doing the same as everyone and going to the window, she grabbed a backpack and a knife and headed out of the office.

"Where are you going?" a co-worker called after her.

"I have to get out of here," she said again.

Lorna ran to the end of the building. She looked down and saw that the street was already filled with people.

"There's no way I can make it," she said, before deciding to jump.

But as she was about to jump, she felt a hand grab her. It was Oliver, her coworker.

"What are you doing?" He asked.

"I have to get out of here," she rambled.

"We're getting out of here together," Oliver said. "Come, let's take the fire stairs.

Lorna felt relieved. They walked down the stairs together.

"I've never seen anything like this," Oliver said. "It's like a war. The smoke is thick, it's hard to breathe. I'm glad you're with me."

Lorna nodded, but didn't say anything. She was too busy thinking about what was happening. She was about to ask Oliver what he was thinking when a wave of heat struck them. With a garbled scream, Lorna fell down the stairs in a heap and lost consciousness.

She woke up in the dark, tired, thirsty, and hungry. Next to her, Oliver was sleeping soundly. Lorna felt glad as she felt his chest rise and fall. She tried to get up but was too weak. She tried to remember how she ended up there with Oliver, but nothing came to mind. She was dazed and weak.

The air was stuffy, stale, and smelled of carrion. She could tell they were inside the building and feel the foot of the stairs.

Lorna crawled next to Oliver and shook him. "Wake up," she said to Oliver.

"Huh? What's going on?" he asked.

"We have to get out of here," Lorna said. "I don't know how long we'll be stuck here."

"I'm not sure we should move," Oliver said.

"We can't just stay here," Lorna said. "There's nowhere else to go. We have to try and get out of here."

Oliver nodded and tried to get up. But he was too weak to stand up.

Lorna opened her purse and took a pack of mint candies. She ate a handful and gave the rest to Oliver. He quickly devoured the mint candies. He felt his strength returning.

Oliver looked at Lorna and nodded. Despite being starved and exhausted, he moved as fast as he could. They left the building and the sun blinded them. As their vision returned, they stared at a destroyed city.

The streets were cracked, in chaos, and empty. Fire had filled the entire area in front of the courthouse and surrounding buildings were charred and broken. Oliver began to realize what had happened. This wasn't a city anymore. This place was no longer habitable.

It was October, and they had to go south. Without civilization, the Canadian winter would turn them into popsicles.

They decided to look for something that might guide them to a place. What they eventually found was an airport. The airport and nearby warehouses in the black neighborhoods weren’t hit so badly by the meteors that day.

They searched and found a small Learjet inside a hangar that seemed to be in working order.

"What are you doing? Can you fly this thing?" Lorna asked.

"I need to do some checks and refuel. Could you try and find us some food and water? Give me one hour and we're flying away on this baby. To the south!" Oliver boasted.

Lorna, who had a premonition that morning, felt confident that Oliver was headed to a fatal conclusion. She knew that right after the vengeful spirit engulfed her. She had a vision. Oliver could not fly anywhere and would be killed the moment they landed.

There was only one way to stop this: she had to kill Oliver. That wouldn't happen. He was an innocent man who had found himself in a stressful situation. She would leave them alone.

Conflicted and struggling against the compulsion of the spirit possessing her, Lorna went to the patio of the airport and took a seat in a car, she stared out and tried to control her emotions.

After some time, she got up.

The spirit's eye over her was fascinated. She looked like she was about to fall apart, and refused to look up and find Oliver, else she would fall under the compulsion.

"What are you doing?" Oliver said behind her.

Lorna turned around and gave a lopsided smile. "I'm going to kill you, Oliver," she said with a knife in her hand. "Please, run."

Before he could respond, Lorna was overwhelmed with all the pain and rage the spirit was forcing her to feel. She gasped, closed her eyes, and fell to the ground.

When Lorna woke up, her strength was back and the fiery breath that had filled her head was gone. She was no longer being controlled. Lorna got up; her strength fully restored. She looked up to see Oliver standing there and in relief, wiped his brow.

"What are you doing?" she asked, and she felt that she didn't have the energy to face Oliver. She was beginning to doubt her senses. "Did you die? Are you okay?"

"No, I'm fine," Oliver replied. "What happened?"

Lorna shook her head and walked over to the table and motioned for him to sit down. As she started to speak, she could feel the fire inside her.

"I had a vision," Lorna said, but she knew it was nothing she could express in words. Oliver only looked at her in disbelief. "I saw you die in front of me."

"What are you talking about? I had a vision too. How can that be? There's no way that was going to happen."

"You were going to get hit if you tried to fly the airplane. It's not safe, Oliver."

Oliver was perplexed. He stood up and threw the tools to the ground. "Damn this! What is going on!"

"Sit back down. You're scaring me," Lorna said.

Oliver sat back down. Lorna, holding the side of her head, was finding it hard to concentrate. "What happened to the world?" Oliver asked.

"I'm not sure. I think the meteors might have carried something that could have affect us," Lorna said.

Oliver ran into the bathroom. He was coughing, gasping for air. It took him a few minutes before he could finish using the toilet.

They raided the terminal for anything that was still edible. They had packs of bottled water on the plane.

With as much stuff as the airplane could carry, he taxied on an intact runway.

The plane was already two hundred and fifty feet away from the tarmac when Oliver relaxed on the pilot's seat.

They didn't know where they were going, but he had to be thankful for getting out of Canada. It would be impossible for them to survive out there.

The plane didn't have enough fuel to fly long distances. Oliver estimated it could reach 300 to 400 miles if they only wanted to keep going south.

Then, as Lorna predicted, explosions rocked the aircraft. The plane was now on fire. Oliver could see the forest in front of them filled with explosions. Someone had fired a ground-to-air missile at them.

Oliver shouted to Lorna, "Let's jump, it's not safe to fly anymore. Please."

"No, I'm afraid of heights!" Lorna screamed in panic.

Before he could argue that she was about to jump out of the office building when he found her, a massive explosion brought them to a sudden halt. The emergency landing beacon went off. Oliver killed the engine and grabbed the parachutes.

"This is a tandem parachute. You need to put on this harness around your legs and hips. I'll strap you to my front and jump. I have over a hundred and fifty parachute jumps already."

Lorna was confused. She didn't remember trying to jump out of the building. She refused to be strapped to the front of a stranger and started to walk to the door without harness nor parachute.

Oliver grabbed her arm and pulled her away from the door. "I'm not going to let you do that."

"Why did you stop me?" she snapped.

"Listen to yourself. You're panicking!" He stated.

Lorna was crying. She might have a concussion or something. She decided to trust Oliver and removed her skirt, placing it in her bag so it wouldn't get dirty. Donning the harness, she strapped herself to Oliver and they jumped.

He landed safely with Lorna.

Oliver surveyed the area around them. It was grassy ground and trees. Rain soon started to fall all around them. He took the parachute's survival kit. The ground was flat. Looking at the compass, he said, "South is that way. I think we crossed the border before they shot us down."

"Oh, no! We lost all our food," Lorna complained.

Oliver opened his survival kit and laid a map on the ground. Oliver compared it to the ground around them. "We are actually on the United States. We are in Southern Vermont or New Hampshire."

"We need a fire. It's going to get dark soon," Lorna said.

They found some dry twigs and lit up a fire using one of the signal flares they got from the survival kit.

Without food, they slept hungry. At least they'd eaten before taking off.

The next day Lorna couldn't see through her headache, plus she had a rash on her stomach. Her legs were getting scratched by leaves in the grass. She sat on the other side of the fire under the canopy.

They had two ration bars in the survival kit, and no electronics.

Oliver sat next to her, watching her carefully to make sure she was doing well. After watching over Lorna's well-being, he decided that they needed to walk out of the forest until they found a road.

Along the way, they found an abandoned hunting camp, with a rucksack and some stale rations. Lorna checked and retched as she smelled the rotten food.

They climbed on a hill. Oliver kept looking carefully, and he saw a well-marked road from the direction where the plane went down.

They went to the road and started walking south until nightfall. They met a red Chevy with two guys wearing camouflage suits. One was driving, the other was holding a rifle. They hollered at Oliver. "Hey! Survivors!"

However, with a British accent, Oliver was louder. "Cape Cod!"

He recognized the Brit's truck because he had driven in it in late summer. "In there! Welcome! Where are you from?"

Oliver took off his pilot's jacket and introduced himself. Lorna started to get nervous as they told they came from Canada.

The Chevvy driver said, "That doesn't matter anymore. The government is dead. We're going to Florida or until we ran out of gas, we can drop you off anywhere."

Oliver and Lorna got on the car and they drove off.