The Star Gazer

Spring of 2047 (35 A.E.)

Near Denver, Free Republic of Colorado

Thomas Newbury peered through the pre-Event telescope, his gaze fixed on the celestial canvas above. His routine pursuit involved scouring the heavens for a new comet, not merely for the thrill of discovery but as a means to eke out a meager living in this post-apocalyptic world. The solar flare storm that ravaged Earth's communications and electricity on December 21st, 2012, had plunged humanity into a stark and unforgiving reality. Yet, in the midst of desolation, Thomas found solace in the cosmic mysteries that unfolded above, hoping that the celestial bodies would guide him to both discovery and survival.

As Thomas hummed to the cosmic rhythm, Cecelia T. remained alone by the crackling campfire, seeking warmth in the midst of the desolate landscape. The aroma of brewing coffee wafted through the air, a comforting ritual in their harsh existence. In this post-apocalyptic world, where the remnants of civilization clung to survival, coffee was a precious commodity sourced from distant lands, primarily California and other southern farmers.

The trade routes into Colorado had become treacherous, haunted by the specters of an abandoned past. Many roads, once bustling with life, were now reclaimed by the encroaching wilderness. The journey for traders was an intense and perilous one, often leading them to forsake these routes altogether. Only on rare occasions did a determined trader venture through, opening a fleeting window for commerce and exchange in the desolate terrain. Cecelia, her hands absorbing the warmth from the campfire, contemplated the fragile threads that bound their isolated existence to the outside world.

"Some day... you'll know... I was the one..." Cecelia T. sang softly to herself, the melodic notes weaving through the crackling of the fire, reminiscent of a vintage vinyl record playing its haunting tune. The flames danced in tandem with her melancholic melody.

"There's nothing going on in the cosmos tonight," Thomas observed, his attention shifting to the moon. "Nothing on Luna either," he added, scanning the lunar landscape for any signs of celestial activity.

Cecelia, her dark skin illuminated by the fire's glow, gazed into the flickering flames as if seeking answers within. Her braided hair framed her face, and in her brown eyes, a hint of longing and introspection lingered. "You'll find something soon. When was the last discovery?" she inquired, her voice a gentle reassurance amidst the vast emptiness that surrounded them. The firelight cast shadows on her face, reflecting the uncertainty that echoed within.

A distant hoot echoed through the vast high plains, causing Thomas to pause and survey the expanse around them. The ancient trees, scattered like sentinels, adorned the slopes of the mountain named Blue Sky. It was here, in the embrace of nature, that the two friends had chosen to spend most of their days. The cities, once bustling centers of civilization, now carried the scars of devastation wrought by radiation from the plant explosions following the Event.

Though none of the plants were situated in the state of Colorado, the relentless winds and rain had carried the radiation far and wide, leaving a trail of destruction. Some cities lay in ruins, rendered uninhabitable by the aftermath of the catastrophic events. Yet, the mountains, like a natural shield, had impeded the spread of the radiation, bestowing Denver with a comparative sanctuary.

As Thomas continued to scan the horizon, the coyote's call lingered in the air, a reminder of the untamed world that persisted beyond the flickering flames of their campfire. In the face of the remnants of the old world and the challenges of the new, the mountain named Blue Sky stood as a silent witness to their resilient existence.

"Ah, a shooting star! Look at it shine through the sky!" Thomas exclaimed, his excitement evident in the gleam of his eyes.

Cecelia, however, remained nonchalant, flicking dry skin from her fingers. "Not worth a penny. Shooting stars in the sky... makes a grown man cry..." she commented, her tone carrying a hint of detachment.

"But aren't they beautiful? Priceless," Thomas responded, his happiness undiminished by Cecelia's pragmatism.

"Not by choice," she retorted, a subtle weight in her words.

"Okay, okay," Thomas conceded, returning his gaze to the celestial canvas above. The stars adorned the night sky, each one a distant beacon in the vastness of the post-apocalyptic world. Despite the desolation that surrounded them, the brilliance of the stars painted a scene of enduring beauty, a stark contrast to the harsh realities of their existence.

"We're running out of good food. Y'know, the fresher stuff? We're down to canned beans, some are old, no doubt botulism has taken over," Cecelia remarked, her voice carrying the weight of practical concerns. She rose from her seat, stretched, and made her way over to the RV. The vehicle, a pre-Event relic, once pristine and shiny in pearl, now bore the scars of time, its exterior yellowed and aged.

Thomas, meticulous in his ways, had maintained the inside of the RV with unwavering care. The interior remained a sanctuary of order and organization, a stark contrast to the unpredictable and often harsh world outside. As Cecelia ventured inside, the RV served as both a refuge and a reminder of a past that seemed distant and unattainable. The challenge of survival had reshaped not just the landscape but also the very essence of what once constituted normalcy.

As the night unfolded, Cecelia opted to stay within the confines of their makeshift home, seeking solace in the embrace of sleep. Her decision to rest, a luxury in their unpredictable existence, echoed through the quiet confines of the RV.

Thomas, engrossed in the celestial spectacle outside, remained happily awake, oblivious to the absence of his friend. It wasn't until he decided to indulge in a cup of coffee that he realized Cecelia's retreat into slumber. The silence within the RV spoke volumes, and as Thomas prepared his coffee, the solitude weighed on him.

Undeterred by the solitude, he chose to forego sleep, the bitter aroma of the coffee filling the air as he consumed cup after cup. In the glow of the campfire's fading embers and the distant stars, Thomas found solace in the rhythm of the night, a sentinel in the vast expanse of their landscape.

The morning sun cast its golden hues over the plains landscape as Thomas skillfully crafted an omelette over the crackling fire. The iron pan, a relic of recycled iron products from the remnants of the old world, sizzled with butter as the eggs cooked, sending bits of hot splatter in every direction. The aroma of cooking breakfast wafted through the air, a welcome contrast to the challenges of their daily existence.

As the omelette neared completion, Thomas turned his attention to a pot where canned potatoes were boiling, soon to be mashed. The combination might not have been a typical breakfast fare, but in this world where sustenance was a precious commodity, any edible provisions were cherished.

"We're almost out of potatoes!" Thomas called out, the urgency in his voice cutting through the morning tranquility. "Well, the canned ones, that is."

Cecelia, still enveloped in the embrace of sleep on her bare mattress within the RV, remained unaware of the impending shortage. Nearby, a teddy bear crafted by her older brother sat on its rear, its black buttons serving as vacant eyes that stared into the uncertain expanse beyond.

As the natural rhythm of the wild played out around them, with coyotes on the hunt and mule deer grazing in the distance, Thomas enjoyed his omelette, humming contentedly. Each mouthful of egg, seasoned with precious salt and pepper, was a small luxury in their harsh world. The simple act of enjoying a well-cooked meal provided a brief respite from the constant struggle for survival.

Satisfied and full yet weighed down by the cumulative effect of a sleepless night, Thomas swiftly wrapped up his morning routine. He made his way to the RV, seeking the comfort of his own makeshift bed. Though the mattress was of cheap material, an array of pillows offered a semblance of comfort and luxury, a small but significant haven in a world that had been stripped down to the bare essentials. The RV, with its memories and the safety it offered, was more than just a vehicle; it was a home and a sanctuary in the midst of a world forever changed.

In the tranquil embrace of the morning, Thomas and Cecelia found solace in sleep, their snores a testament to their exhaustion and the comfort they felt within the confines of their beloved RV. This humble abode, a symbol of their perseverance and resilience, had become more than just shelter; it was a repository of memories and a bastion of safety in a world that had been irrevocably altered.

Unknown to the sleeping friends, their peaceful interlude was about to be disrupted. Stealthily, a pack of trained wolves, each bearing the scars of survival and adorned with harnesses, infiltrated the campsite. They moved with a purpose, guided by a man wearing a straw hat, his presence exuding authority and intent. Flanking him were his goons, each one equipped with post-Event swords and pistols - a formidable arsenal in this new world order.

This armed entourage presented a stark contrast to the modest defenses of Thomas and Cecelia. The two friends, scientists by profession and now survivors by necessity, shared a single revolver between them. It was a worn-out weapon, a symbol of their non-violent past, which had yet to be tested in the face of danger.

In the unfolding narrative of their lives, Thomas and Cecelia, like all who dwell in this post-Event world, are constantly reminded of the fragile balance between life and death. The arrival of the armed strangers, led by the man in the straw hat, casts a foreboding shadow over the campsite, a stark reminder of the ever-present threat that lurks in their new reality.

Death, an inescapable truth of existence, looms large in this harsh and unforgiving era. It stands in stark contrast to the brief period in human history where life was comparatively easy, a time that now seems like a distant dream. Thomas and Cecelia, born just on the cusp of this drastic change, missed the chance to experience that era of relative ease and prosperity.

As they sleep, unaware of the danger that has stealthily encroached upon their sanctuary, their fate hangs in a delicate balance. The peaceful morning, once a respite from their daily struggles, now teeters on the brink of becoming a grim reminder of the ruthless nature of their world.

In this post-2012 landscape, every new dawn is a gift, and every encounter with others is a roll of the dice, where fortunes can change in an instant, and the line between life and death is perilously thin. The story of Thomas and Cecelia, like that of many others in their time, is a testament to the endurance of the human spirit in the face of overwhelming adversity.

Life, inevitably, meets its conclusion. Some succumb to the cruel embrace of bullet wounds, while others yield to the relentless jaws of a savage canine.

Thomas Newbury b. 2020 (8 A.E.) d. 2047 (35 A.E.) age 27

Cecelia Teth b. 2021 (9 A.E.) d. 2047 (35 A.E.) age 26