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The end of the world happened within hours.
They called it a rogue star. It wasn’t a planet like you learn about in science class – just as big as one. Scientists had only speculated as to their existence before. Now the whole world knew they really existed.
Or at least what was left of the world.
On a day like any other day, while the world slept, this rogue star entered the Milky Way on a collision course with the Moon. The world woke up when it hit.
A direct hit.
Those who were awake when it happened, those poor souls on the space station who’d had a bird’s eye view, they say the Moon simply split in two. One half disintegrated – the section that took the direct hit. The other half hung suspended in space.
The Earth responded within hours of its partner being decimated. Oceans roared, tides came in and out with an almost violent frequency. The earth shook, volcanoes erupted, storms raged. Cities fell. That little white ball in the sky we all took for granted was now dead, and the Earth grieved.
Within a week, the deaths started to occur. At first no one tied the two together. Everyone was still living in shock of what had occurred. Families would be found dead in their beds. Children would take naps and never wake up.
When scientists publicly theorized the why behind it all, chaos reigned. Millions more died before a geeky med student in Iowa discovered a common trait among the survivors. By then the damage was done. Not that anything could have been done.
Mankind as we knew it was over.
They called me Allie, back then.
It was a nickname of sorts, my full name sounding fanciful and foreign. For a young girl from a small town in Georgia, it fit better than the exotic name of my great-great-grandmother, for whom I was named. She’d met my great-great-grandfather overseas and became a war bride. They say I favor her, but no pictures exist anymore to see for myself.
Besides her name, I also inherited something else from her, and it saved my life.
My entire family, save myself and my sister, died in those first few weeks. Most of our neighbors died too. Folks banded together out of necessity, living and working together to survive. Danni, that’s my younger sister, she and I chose to live alone.
Not because we didn’t trust anyone.
You NEVER trusted anyone anymore.
It just wasn’t what either of us wanted. We’d grown up together, fought and argued together, lived through some of the best and worst times together. Danni knew me like the back of her hand, and I her. When the shit hit the fan, we became a team. We didn’t need anybody else mucking up the works, or worse, trying to take what wasn’t freely given. That’s not to say either of us was anti-social, just…cautious. More than once that caution had saved our hides.
We managed to stay in our little hideaway home for two years before the waves came lapping at the door. You see, when the moon was destroyed, the world changed. With nothing to regulate the tides, the oceans became a force of nature no one could tame. The poles started to melt at a faster rate. Coastal cities were destroyed almost immediately. The boundaries of the great bodies of water moved inland, and kept coming. Six months after the end of the world, island nations had disappeared and Florida was completely submerged.