When The Sun Dies

This story is about a dystopian world. The sun died several years ago and the earth had fallen into an endless ice age. One man, tries to stay alive and meets a stranded dog. Together, they attempt to find shelter in another place.

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As the bone-chilling wind whipped through the desolate streets, the man trudged forward, his every breath turning to ice crystals in the frigid air. The world had plunged into an eternal winter after the sun's untimely death, and now the once landscapes were blanketed in a relentless shroud of snow and darkness. With each step, he struggled against the -80 degree cold, his every movement a battle against the elements. The howling of the wind was a haunting symphony, a constant reminder that the earth has finally died. Yet, despite the overwhelming odds, the man pressed on, driven by his skills to survive in this frozen wasteland.

With a weary sigh, the man stepped through the creaking metal door of the abandoned science lab that had become his home. The darkness inside surrounded him like a suffocating embrace, and the dead silence was broken with the sound of severe wind as he closed the door. Fumbling in the dim light, he made his way to the basement, where he had fashioned a meager living space amidst the remnants of forgotten experiments and discarded equipment. He took off his winter gear, designed for extreme conditions, and placed it next to his rusted refrigerator filled with tools and junk. Using the last of the firewood he had collected, he kindled a small flame in the rusted stove.

“I miss what the world used to be,” he said as he stared at the picture of his wife smiling at the camera. You could see the green grass, the black Chevy she stood next to, and life was perfect. That was twelve years ago before the sun died. As the flames danced and crackled, making shadows across the barren walls, he reached for the battery-powered radio and turned it on. The crackling static filled the air, followed by a faint voice that cut through the oppressive silence, a tether to the outside world that he clung to like a lifeline.

Sitting on the worn mattress, he listened intently to the distant broadcasts, hoping for any shred of news or human connection in this desolate landscape. The radio's glow illuminated his weary face, etched with the hardships of a life spent in isolation, as he braced himself for another long, bone-chilling night in this frozen world.

His head rested against the wall as he started to close his eyes, drifting back to when his wife was still alive. The last day he ever saw her was when chaos struck. Everyone was scared when the sun didn’t come up the next morning, and people evacuated cities when the cold came. She died in a fatal crash during the nightmare in the city. Sometimes he thinks life never had a purpose.

As the man sat in the dim glow of the fire, the radio crackled with static, a sudden, ominous groan echoed through the decrepit structure. Before he could react, the ceiling above him gave way, a deluge of snow and debris crashing down with a loud, thundering roar. With fear, he leaped to his feet, scrambling to put on his protective gear before the cold could kill him in minutes. The bitter cold seeped in through the breach, and he knew he had no choice but to evacuate soon. Snow covered the steps, and he saw some metal debris blocking his way out. It seemed like the snow finally caved in from the roof. Struggling to squeeze through the debris, he screamed in anger.

"Come on, God! Is this your will? To make me suffer? Why did you allow this to happen?" 

About two hours later, after finally escaping the building, he emerged into the polar darkness once again. He fell to his knees and stared at the sky. "Where can I find happiness again? Where," he cried out.

Trudging through the snow-laden streets, the weight of solitude pressed heavily upon him. San Francisco, once a bustling city, now lay desolate and silent, its towering structures looming like icy monoliths in the wintry night. With each step, his breath crystallized in the frigid air, and the stillness of the city was suffocating.

He searched for any sign of life, any glimmer of hope in this barren, frozen world, but the city remained eerily empty, devoid of the warmth and vitality it once held. It seemed he was truly alone, the last living soul in this icy wasteland. As the relentless darkness closed in around him, he continued his solitary journey, driven by a desperate need to find some semblance of comfort in this new, unforgiving reality.

As the man trudged through the silent streets, a flicker of movement caught his eye—a shadowy figure darting through the snow. Drawing closer, he discovered a lone husky, wearing a red weathered vest to keep him warm. Beside the faithful dog, a tragic sight hit him like a ton of bricks. The owner lay frozen in the icy ground, still clutching the leash, preventing the dog from getting loose.

Moved by a surge of compassion, the man knelt beside the dog and unhooked the entire collar. With a heavy heart, he turned to the husky, meeting the dog’s soulful gaze. As the man welcomed the husky to join him on his quest for shelter, the dog was scared of him.

"Don’t be afraid. I’m here to help," he reassured, holding out his hand for the husky to sniff. It took some time for the dog to gain trust.

Together, man and dog ventured forth through the desolate city, their steps leaving a trail of imprints in the pristine snow.

About two years later, the man, accompanied by his husky, stood on the shores of Mexico for the very first time. With each step of his journey, he had traversed the breadth of the country, braving untold hardships. As he entered a town called Mexico City, he walked the dark streets and noticed a fire lit inside a huge warehouse. Standing at the entrance, he took a deep breath, hoping they weren’t savages in there. As he opened the door, everyone fell silent in the building. Hundreds of women, children, and men stared at him and the dog.

The man removed his goggles and headgear, then addressed the silent crowd. "Um, is there anyone who can help us? We come in peace." Everyone continued to stare until three military personnel walked out and engaged in conversation with the man.

"Do you have any sickness or infection?" one of them asked.

"No," he responded.

"Come, follow me. I’ll give you a tour," the officer said.

He followed them inside and was amazed by the sight that greeted him—a bustling community within the confines of the largest warehouse in the country. Tents were scattered everywhere, and children played soccer amidst the organized chaos.

"This is your new home, sir. But you have to sign in the book," the officer explained.

"This place is great. I appreciate the support from you," he expressed his gratitude.

"And this is our leader, Casandra," the officer introduced. She is a very tall women, with long blonde hair and has a bone chilling expression on her face. You can tell she’s a hardcore military leader or something. 

"Hello, ma’am. Nice to meet you," he greeted her, noticing her stern demeanor—someone not to be trifled with.

"We have a number of rules, and you must give me your full name," Casandra stated.

"My name is Don Rosebush. I used to be Colonel Don Rosebush. I was in the service all my life, ma’am," he replied.

"Well!” She said in surprise. “ I think you could be extremely useful. How would you like to be a ranger?" she proposed.

"A what?" he inquired.

"A ranger. You go out and bring back food, water, and supplies left in the cities. It’s not an easy job, but you’d be with the other six rangers," she explained.

"That sounds like a plan," he agreed.

"There’s no pay. As you can see, we all volunteer to help the survivors. And we have strict rules. Number one, there’s no going outside alone. Number two, this is a peaceful community, so I expect kindness toward one another. Number three, no stealing. Break any of these rules and you’ll be sent into exile," she explained.

"I understand," he acknowledged.

"Good. You guys head out next week. Enjoy your stay, Colonel Don Rosebush," Casandra concluded.

After inscribing his name in the book, he felt a sense of purpose and belonging he hadn't experienced since the world as he knew it had changed.

After all the hell he went through, he had finally found a new home—a shelter that had become a sanctuary for people from all corners of the world. With each passing day, Don contributed to the collective efforts of the shelter, offering his skills and knowledge to help forge a new life in this unlikely community.

He was brought to his own bedroom, which featured a comfortable bed, a bookshelf, and a snack drawer. He took off his gear, closed his bedroom door, and settled into bed with his husky named Chow. Although the world outside remained frozen and dark, within the shelter, a flame of hope burned brightly, illuminating the path toward a future where humanity could endure, adapt, and thrive, even in the face of unimaginable horror.

By next week, he and all the rangers set foot on the outside world, ready to collect items for the people. He puts on his goggles and headgear, and walks out, side by side with the other six rangers.

 The end.