Youth World

Chapter 1 – Unexpected Apocalypse

April 20th, 2022

I was currently trying to mill off the top of a rifled musket while sitting in the shed outside my house, with a bright lamp illuminating my work surface.

You may ask, what kind of person tinkers around with outdated weapons just for fun? Well, I, Alexander Ruan, am such a person.

I am a 16-year-old sophomore at a local high school in Western Washington. I don't know why, but I have a very strange palette of hobbies that I enjoy doing. Especially building stuff. I liked to build anything, anywhere, at any time. I liked to build so much that people nicknamed me "Alexander the Builder". I know, very creative, very creative indeed.

I was an only child, the progeny of my elderly father and my relatively young mother. Therefore, my parents invested all of their time and effort into me. They gave me all the opportunities I could ever ask for and gave me anything I needed if I were to maintain excellent grades, as long as it was somewhat related to studying and education.

Well, I was a pretty good student. I never aimed to be the best, since straight As were good enough. No need to join the National Honor Society or whatever it's called. Instead, I decided to spend my time on other things, such as crafting, and indulging myself in political studies. People say it's boring, but I find it fascinating.

One day, when I was watching a documentary on the internet, I saw an eerily realistic scene showing civil war soldiers shooting at each other. Curious about how their guns worked, I scrolled through pages and pages of content on the internet until I had come to a conclusion. And it wasn't one the average person would come up with.

I was going to make my own musket. How else was I supposed to truly figure out how it worked?

I labored day and night, spending every waking moment that was not spent on schoolwork on the project. Eventually, after figuring out the more intricate details, I went to the farmlands near the Cascade Mountains and fired at a target 250 yards away.

Bullseye. If anybody wants to hire me as a professional target shooter, here I am.

Ever since, I have done extensive research on any and all military technologies from the civil war to the Second World War. Also, I've always shown a keen interest in the weapons of antiquity, frequently honing my skills with arms such as the bow, the halberd and the sword. I've spent so much time on those weapons and war materiel that I had practically memorized everything in my head.

Besides weapons, I also was a keen survivalist. After watching Bear Grylls from a young age, I have been infatuated with nature and the wilderness. That served as great inspiration for me to join the boy scouts and to become an eagle scout. One time, I got lost and survived a week in the Cascade Mountains until I had reached the highway, where I was rescued by a trucker. My parents didn't let me out for a month after that incident.

Well, these hobbies of mine weren't widely known at school. There, I was considered one of the popular kids, since I was a multi-sport athlete and generally liked to help people. Generally, people would take my advice whenever I offered it. I was seen as a leader of sorts. I formed my own political organization of sorts to try to win all the student council seats, and my group won every single seat except the student council president, which was retained by the insanely popular cheerleading captain, though only by a slim margin.

So yeah, life was good. I had everything I needed, and I was pretty content. Those rumors of tiger parents being barbaric are lies, I tell you. Lies!

I should also probably tell you about my friends. I would consider quite a few people to be in my friend group, but there are two guys who are my "best friends for life". One would be Lucas Murray, who goes to the high school just north of mine and is a football star and survival expert, and Aidan Kinsley, pro skateboarder and playboy flirter who hits on every human with an XX chromosome. Actually, I wouldn't put it past him to pursue some non-human individuals with that genetic composition.

Anyways, back on topic. I was milling the top off a rifled musket. I had read about something called an "Allin Conversion''. It was a way to convert obsolete and slow firing muskets into quick firing breech loading rifles. I decided to also add a tubular magazine on the bottom for the hell of it, and it took me a long time to rechamber the gun for the 6.5mm Carcano round, which I felt suited the gun better.

I dubbed my new creation the "Cascadian Rifle" after the beautiful mountains that were quite literally right next to my house. Well, they were a few dozen miles away, so not that close.

I keep going off topic. Well, I'm done milling the top off my gun now, and I replaced it with a trapdoor mechanism I had mustered up with a bunch of spare components in the scrapyard. Time to test it out, and hopefully it doesn't lead to my untimely demise.

It might be horribly irresponsible to fire a weapon in my driveway. But, who's gonna stop me?

I opened the trapdoor. Then, I stuffed 10 6.5mm Carcano rounds into the tubular magazine. Then, I closed the trapdoor and ċȯċked the hammer.

I took a deep breath. This was the first time I had tried to modify an existing firearm.

3. I aimed my rifle. The smell of musty gunpowder wafted through the air.

2. I zeroed in my sights. Man, this was exciting!

1. I finally stopped the trembling that was going through my body.

Did that stop me?

No.

Hoping for the best, I pressed the trigger.

But nothing happened.

What?

The gun didn't go off! The bullet didn't fire!

I tried to turn my head, but I couldn't. I tried to move my arms, but I couldn't. I tried to shuffle my feet, but I couldn't.

Hell, I couldn't even see anything!

Everything before my eyes went blank. Then, before I could think about anything else, I woke up.

And why was it so hard to move my body? It felt like I was out for at least a few hours!

Shaking every single muscle for god knows how long, I finally regained my mobility. But, when I finally stood upright, what appeared before me was a real shocker.

This wasn't my house anymore! Last thing I remember, there weren't a bunch of massive trees littering the landscape! There was a windy road running through a suburban sprawl going up a hill! Wait, and where did my clothes go!

Ahhhhhh!

I scurried around, looking left and right for something that I could cover myself with. After finding some vines and some leaves, I decided that those would make do.

I used the vine to string the leaves together, throwing in some soft grass as padding. Then, I used even more vines to make a belt for the makeshift undėrwėȧr to not fall off.

Well, my feet hurt, but at least my nether regions weren't exposed anymore. Wait, why was I nȧkėd anyways?

I needed to know what was going on. And I needed a vantage point to do so.

I was on a mountain, which looked like the same one that my house was located on except that there were no houses there. There was one possibility running through my mind, but that was way too outlandish.

Or, a smarter idea would be to make some cedar bark clothing, which I had learned to make from my American Indian friend which I met while visiting his reservation out east. There were cedar trees as far as the eye could see, so I could probably accomplish that in a jiffy.

I found a tiny, sharp bone on the ground, which would be perfect for a needle. Carefully smashing out a small hole in the bone, I strung some thin vines through the hole and tied it after doing a loop or two. I peeled the cedar bark off the plentiful cedar trees and tossed the outer layer aside. Then I wove the inner layers together, and after some careful craftsmanship I had myself some cedar bark pants, a long-sleeved shirt, some proper undėrwėȧr and even a coat. That took the better half of an hour, but at least I got it done. Also, I picked up a piece of wood that was about 11 inches long and 5 inches wide and strung some vines around it to make sandals. Now, I finally had some proper clothing, and footwear to prevent my feet from blistering.

I picked up a long stick that was about three fourths of my height, and I began to scale the hill, using the makeshift staff for support. As the sun was rising above my head, I had finally reached the top, the area clearer of trees in comparison to the surrounding forested areas.

Wow.

I gasped in astonishment.

In every direction I looked, I could see nothing but lush woodland and abundant plains near the sprawling mountains. All remnants of human civilization had disappeared. There was not a single building or road in sight.

I had no doubt this was still the location of my city. The lake, the island, and the mountain. All of them were in the exact same place as they were before.

The only question I had was, where were all the people? I hadn't seen even a shadow yet, and this area was supposed to be teeming with old folks.

I saw birds flying about, some raccoons foraging in the distance, and some deer wandering through the shrubberies. But no people in sight.

A teenager around my age was running towards me with his arms flailing about. There was a leaf covering his private parts, and he had a sparse and untrimmed beard..

It was Grant, that geek who lived on the other side of the hill.

"Grant," I calmly asked as the exhausted teen rested his arms on his knees, "Can you tell me what happened to you?"