“It’s the end of the world as we know it and I feel fine.” There was a time, seemingly not so long ago, that I thought that was a great song. Still is, as a matter of fact. But when it’s 70 years old and you really are at the end of the world it just hits different. That’s right, if you did the math it’s 2057. The Covid scare of 2019/2020 had proven to be a lot more bearable than we as a society thought. Quarantine, vaccine, get better, and move on. Sure, some did die of it. The numbers were relatively low and most those who did were immuno-compromised to begin with.

It was The Stand that came to mind for me now. Stephen King able to predict the future maybe, at least minus the battle between good and evil it involved. The one difference: I wasn’t sure there were that many survivors yet. You may wonder about my writing style on this. If it’s the end of the world why am I telling this story? If it is, why am I writing it as if I am talking to someone? Therapy, that’s why: it helps to tell myself there’s someone out there who could read this. The other alternative is facing the fact that I seemingly can’t die of natural causes ... and I’m the last man alive. I’ve seen enough surprises to know it’s possible. That’s one thing living at the estate taught me. I knew for a fact that supernatural beings existed. I could arguably be called one as a reincarnated super-human samurai. Sure, I had left the estate decades ago to move on and live my life. If I had survived surely that meant maybe someone else had, too right? I had decided that the estate would be the best place to look. That journey could take a while though, but then again I had time on my hands. I was over 80 years old, but hadn’t visibly changed in my appearance since I was at the estate, so eternally in my low 40s.

I should probably explain this end of the world thing before I get to the journey though. Who knows, whoever eventually reads this may come from outer space and not know how the world ended. I’ve already told my back story before this, so I don’t need to cover that you’ve probably read it by now anyways if you’re reading this. If not, Reader’s Digest version: in a past life I was a samurai warrior who sold his soul to a devil in order to get revenge. In doing so, I was given super powers to be able to get that revenge. Ironically, since it was dependent on my death for the demon to cash in on my soul but I couldn’t die of natural causes as near as I can tell so far. (If I do die I’ll do my best to make sure you know what finally killed me.) My current incarnation joined the Army right out of high school and did the Special Forces thing for a while. I would have to say both lives set me up well for surviving the apocalypse. Plus, having had some outdoorsy habits and disposable income. I think I should probably start explaining how things played out with just a little setup now.

By the time I’d left the estate I had a pretty good savings account stored up. My Army retirement pay along with my dojo as well as my bladesmithing made for making a lot more than I usually spent. Oh, and of course it helped that Cas and Ale were generous enough to allow me to live there free.

I had settled in back home in Utah. Close enough to the Salt Lake Valley for things to still be convenient but on the other side of the mountains in a smaller city called Morgan. I’d bought a nice house on a decent sized plot of land and then proceeded to keep my toys up to date over the years. Rotating through a series of motorcycles, pickup trucks, and 5th wheel trailers as they wore out. 30 years will do that, though. In my case I didn’t need to wait for something to wear out completely before trading it in. I usually did so about every 4-6 years so my stuff stayed in good shape and reliable. The 5th wheel was for times I wanted to get away from people but still be comfortable. It had a bedroom, kitchenette, bathroom with an indoor shower, that type of thing. Sure, I did still sometimes rough it if I wanted to get into areas that weren’t vehicle accessible, but I’d done enough rough camping to prefer comfort when I could do it.

That made for traits that would prove to come in all too handy at the end of the world. It was also somewhat easier with me being a technologically savvy gadget guy. Things like an extended battery pack for my phone and like devices as well as a portable generator with several batteries included that were charged either by wind, solar, or just plugging into an outlet. With the solar panels on the roof of the 5th wheel I could power everything I needed on 4 hours of charging time.

At first things started quite similar to what they had when covid hit. Slow spreading and at first thinking it was similar to a flu virus, with the first casualties among those with compromised immune systems. It was at roughly the 6 month park of things that it seemed to mutate, growing both easier to transmit and more severe. Governments were scrambling with plans of how to limit the spread but to no avail. Businesses began to shut down due to having no healthy people to work. The supply chain started to slow down as goods were taking longer to be made and then get transported.

What happened next was I believe the worst that could happen: we went a year where cases dropped dramatically. Research into the virus slowed as it seemed to die off. Another year and the numbers remained about the same. But going into that third year from the start of the new pandemic ... it came back with a vengeance, mutated and more vicious. The symptoms were the same as before, but unlike before now you went from showing common cold symptoms for a week to gradually worsening and leading to death.

The time frame seemed to take longer for some, in fact it turned out to be a big detriment. Some of those who didn’t immediately get sick were some of the worst people around. Emergency services went from the usual swamped to vastly overwhelmed and then eventually completely ineffective. Rioting and looting ran rampant in the big cities. I had to be glad I had a good sized place and liked doing major shopping orders in bulk: it left me well stocked on the basic necessities as things spiraled out of control.

One thing the Army and SpecOps taught me was how people behaved. Some it brought out the best, others the worst. As the rioting started I went into town to help defend the National Guard armory. The Nasty Girls - as we who were active duty often called them - weren’t trained for real urban combat. Effective professional leadership helped toughen their spines, though.

As the riots started to dwindle down so did the people healthy enough to assist defending downtown. More and more now people weren’t healthy enough to be about the city moving, much less stirring up trouble. When it became clear the armory would no longer be able to be held weapons and ammo were issued out to those who had helped defend it. We had earned the right and were the safer types to have them.

So it was that in addition to what weapons I’d brought in the first place I left with a variety of assault rifles and even a couple sniper rifles plus ammunition for all. Cans of .45, 5.56mm, and 7.62 were my focus as that fit most the weaponry I had. I’d seen enough of The Walking Dead to have thought about a crossbow for silence, but it took longer to reload then a semi-automatic weapon and my rifles and pistols could fire a minimum of 12 rounds consecutive without reloading, even my LAR-8 sniper rifle had 20 round magazines. Plus I had access to the armory as well as a local gun shop. It had taken a little searching around to see the former owner had a secret stash of stuff he sold on the side. So it was I came away with several silencers for some of my different weapons.

When things got ugly early on I didn’t hide my abilities. If I was forced to engage I took advantage of what I could do. A warning shot would be fired, but in such a way it would destroy the action of the person’s firearm. If I had to use a shot, why waste it afterall? You’d be amazed how quick someone talks themselves out of a fight when their rifle is disabled before they can fire a round. Though there was someone who must have thought it was a lucky shot as he went to draw his pistol next. Since it was a nice pistol I didn’t fire to damage the weapon – he’d had his warning shot – instead I put my bullet through his clavicle. Sure, I wasn’t nice. But I didn’t want to have to kill if I could avoid it, I’d done enough of that over two lifetimes. He would however think of me every time he had to move his right arm for a few months.

Society as a whole dissolved like the start of an avalanche, building speed and momentum. Emergency services grew slower and fewer before eventually stopping. Big cities seemed to turn into morgues and havens for rioting or worse. It was about four months in that the virus came to be known as the super flu, the Surgeon General speaking about it and issuing warnings while just a few short weeks from becoming infected herself. One of the last memorable things broadcast live was the funeral for the President of the United States.

Within 9 months the rioting had slowed. Though the few times I had to go into the city for something I went visibly armed. AR-15 at the low ready with a Molle vest carrying 6 magazines, a .45 at my right hip, and several magazines for that as well. Word of who and how I was had spread thankfully. Army trained but something more also. I would first learn that coming around a corner and seeing another man’s eyes widen before uttering an “Oh shit, it’s you!” and running the other way. I couldn’t complain though, being known as a hard target I’m sure kept me from having to fight more often. There were easier targets at first, after all.

Radio and TV broadcasts had been off for three months by the time I started to formulate a real plan. It had become clear that the world as I’d known it was over. It had been months since I’d talked to a person and a month since I had even seen one. The super flu had done its job too well. The first part of my plan was decided though: I couldn’t stay here in this ghost town much longer. I had to find out whether there were others still alive. Even given my unique abilities and strengths surely I couldn’t be the last man standing, could I? There had to be more ... somewhere.