In around sixty to seventy years, the last human would die. Then it would result in the other fauna reclaiming their land. But until then Ansh can walk the earth, like Adam but without Eve.
The issue is- Ansh hates walking. One would think that an apocalypse which wiped out humanity would finally urge our introverted protagonist to head out. Nope. I have enough food at home, he argues with himself, and I still have my video games and books. We are not going to tell him, of course, that his abundant food supply is mostly comprised of stuff that needs cooking.
A skill he hasn’t mastered yet. Or even begun the process of.
Day 30.
It’s been a month since a little virus stopped the hearts of the whole world. Trust me, Ansh is not an immune superhero. The only reason his stash of snacks took so long to diminish was because he was writhing in his bed for the first fifteen days. Our poor boy, alone in the entire house (edit: Earth), not even able to reach for his PlayStation as his antibodies and the virus exchanged missiles.
But by Day thirteen, the fever subsided. And on Day Fifteen, he was up and about. Hale and healthy.
Cut to today.
Dear Diary, My banana chips are finished. I think I’ll have to head out.
He visibly perspired while writing this. He had always hated leaving the comfort of his home if it resulted in any human interaction. Although this time around that wasn’t a constraint, but old habits die hard.
The courageous warrior picks up his bag (reluctantly), puts down the game controller, and treads out. He calls out at the top of his voice, “Mom! I’ll be back in an hour!” before shutting the door.
It was a reflex, of course. He wasn’t going to find his mother anywhere unless he decided on visiting the nearest morgue. But now that he thinks of it, while walking down the empty street, his mother would’ve been so proud of him. Her son heading out to buy resources (banana chips) for himself, by himself. Not that there was any concept of buying now, unless monkeys have taken over the cashier positions in 30 days of no humans.
He reaches a four-way intersection, which in its prime days would host at least one traffic accident every week. Now, it’s empty, aside from a few cars strewn here and there. The passengers inside did not die of the virus, but simply because the virus shut down their own drivers.
Another reason why Ansh hates travelling.
He reaches the shop, shoos away the cashier monkey (which he was sure was just there to steal stuff), and fills his bag with at least a nation’s yearly supply of banana chips. He heads back.
*Dear Diary,
Today was tiring. I think I’ll take another nap.*