One Week Later: Surviving the Collapse

The world ended at 3:17 AM.

Liam had always thought the world would give a little more warning before it collapsed. Maybe a tense news broadcast, an evacuation order, something. But when it finally happened, there was no countdown, no warning—just fire, panic, and the gut-wrenching realization that life as he knew it was over.

He had been asleep when the first explosions shattered the night sky. The shockwave rattled the walls of his small apartment in Phoenix, sending picture frames crashing to the floor. His phone blared an emergency alert in all caps:

“NATIONWIDE ATTACK IN PROGRESS. SEEK IMMEDIATE SHELTER. MARTIAL LAW ENACTED.”

Then the power cut out.

Liam threw the blankets off and ran to his window. The city, usually glowing with streetlights and neon signs, was a black void—except for the fires. Thick plumes of smoke curled into the sky, illuminated by the eerie glow of burning buildings. Car alarms blared in the distance, mixing with the panicked screams of people who had been caught outside when the world went dark.

The war had begun.

Day 2: The Fall of Order

By dawn, the realization set in—no one was coming to help.

No power. No internet. The water still ran, but for how long? The only news came from the battery-powered radio Liam had scavenged from his neighbor’s abandoned apartment. The reports were grim. Washington was gone. New York too. Major cities were in flames. No one knew who had fired first—only that something had triggered a chain reaction, and now, the world was crumbling.

Supermarkets were already war zones. Fights broke out over bottled water and cans of soup. Liam had watched from a distance as a man, desperate to feed his family, was beaten to death over a case of tuna.

The police? They were gone. Maybe they had families to protect. Maybe they had fled like everyone else. Martial law had been declared, but without power, without a functioning government, it was meaningless.

It was every man for himself.

Day 3: The First Kill

Liam had always been a peaceful guy. He had never owned a gun, never even been in a real fight. That changed when Hank, his old neighbor from across the hall, pounded on his door that afternoon.

The old man had a haunted look in his eyes. His wrinkled hands were gripping a dusty 12-gauge shotgun, something Liam imagined had been sitting in a closet for decades.

“You’re gonna need this,” Hank muttered, shoving the weapon into Liam’s hands.

That night, the world outside his apartment turned into hell. Gangs were forming. They moved through the neighborhood, smashing windows, kicking in doors. Liam sat in the darkness, heart pounding, finger hovering over the trigger. He heard his neighbor’s screams, the sounds of bodies hitting the floor, the crack of gunfire in the distance.

And then they came for him.

The first guy through the door was young—maybe eighteen. Desperate. Hungry. Armed.

Liam didn’t hesitate. The shotgun kicked against his shoulder, and the boy crumpled. The others ran.

His hands shook for hours afterward, the weight of what he had done settling in.

The world wasn’t coming back.

Day 4: The Exodus

The apartment complex wasn’t safe. The city wasn’t safe.

Liam packed his bag—water, canned food, first-aid kit, extra ammo. His hands lingered over a single family photo, but he left it behind. There was no time for sentimentality.

He slipped out before dawn, keeping low, moving through alleyways. The roads were littered with burned-out cars, bodies slumped behind the wheel. Some people had tried to flee when the first bombs hit, only to be caught in the chaos.

Gunfire echoed in the distance. A mother sobbed over her dead child near an overturned minivan.

Liam kept walking.

He knew where he was going. The mountains. If he could get out of the city, find high ground, stay away from people, he might have a chance.

Day 5: The New Rules

The first person he met outside the city wasn’t friendly.

Liam had stumbled across an old gas station near the highway. The windows were smashed, shelves stripped bare, but behind the counter, a man sat with a rifle across his lap.

The air was thick with tension.

“You got food?” the man asked.

Liam nodded. “You got water?”

A slow smile spread across the man’s face. “Maybe.”

The trade was simple—two cans of beans for a single bottle of clean water. Liam didn’t argue. It was the best deal he was going to get.

As he left, the man called out, “You’re gonna learn quick, kid. Ain’t no more good people left.”

Liam didn’t look back.

Day 6: Predators and Prey

The deeper he got into the wilderness, the quieter the world became. No cars. No sirens. No voices.

But he wasn’t alone.

That night, huddled in a small cave, he heard them. The distant snap of twigs. The low murmur of voices.

They weren’t soldiers. No uniforms. Just survivors, armed and desperate.

Liam gripped his shotgun, breathing slow. He had two choices—run or hide.

He chose to hide.

The group passed within twenty feet of him, flashlights sweeping through the darkness. One man carried a machete, another had a pistol shoved into his waistband. They were hunting. Not animals—people.

Liam didn’t sleep that night.

Day 7: The Only Law That Matters

One week.

It felt like a lifetime ago that he had been worried about bills, grocery shopping, weekend plans. That world was gone.

He had learned the rules now.

Trust no one. Stay quiet. Stay hidden. And most of all—never run out of ammo.

The cities were lost. The government had fallen. Society had collapsed.

And this?

This was just the beginning.