Somehow I find myself in my very own dystopian novel. Not unlike Divergent or Marie Lu’s Legend. Some great war or natural disaster has wrecked havoc and what’s left of the human race hide in pockets of the earth that haven’t been destroyed.
Little Sister – she’s not really my little sister, but it’s easier to pretend we’re family – we make our lives in a tree-house out the back of an expansive house. Half the house has caved in but what does that matter to us. We’ve got our tree-house.
The sound of heavy machinery echos toward our area.
I can’t believe it. I try, but my mind just can’t seem to wrap around what’s happening.
The people around me move into action, setting watches and checking their ammunition. This feels more like a movie than real life.
In fact, just like a film, the world seems to slow around me as I watch the gates shut and something in my brain finally clicks into place.
I’m not watching World War Z, I’m experiencing it.
I’m being tricked, I know it, but there doesn’t seem to be a way out.
It started yesterday. I woke to find a man sitting at the foot of my bed. I have no idea how he got there, but to say I was scared is the understatement of the year.