Norridgewock, Maine: 2 years before the blackout.

The smell of pine and damp earth filled my nose as I crouched down; my boots sank slightly in the mossy ground. The early morning air was crisp and misty to the point where it impeded my visibility. Besides me, my father stood quietly.

"Stay quiet. We're close," he said. His rifle was slung over his shoulder, a Remington 700. I nodded, gripping the wood of my own rifle. It felt familiar in my hands. My father had taught me everything about hunting: how to track, where to shoot, how to shoot, how to move silently, and most importantly, how to respect the life that I was taking. A faint rustle in the bushes caught our attention, and we focused our eyes in the direction. In the clearing stood a buck grazing on some ferns. I turned up towards my dad, and he gave me a small nod, the corners of his mouth turning into a smile, "Take the shot."

I lifted the barrel of my rifle, aiming it. My father's voice echoed in my mind: Breathe, Focus, Squeeze.

I squeezed the trigger, the rifle shot rang out across the woods, and a murder flew out of the tree. The deer staggered before collapsing into the underbrush. I exhaled a shakey breath, the tension in my shoulders leaving, and I slung the rifle over my shoulder.

As we carried our deer back to the farmhouse, I felt a deep sense of connection to the land, my family, and lessons that I will carry with me forever.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cambridge, Massachusetts

The faint sound of movement caused us to freeze.

"Who goes there?" Sam tried to put on a tough guy persona, but it sounded more like he was doing an impression of a pirate. For a moment, there was silence before I heard a low groan.

"Don't shoot," a low, rapsy voice said.

"Well, we don't have a gun, so..." Sam responded.

"Sam! You don't just tell people we don't have a gun!" I yelled at him, trying to smack the back of his head, but I missed due to the darkness. Suddenly, a hurricane lamp was lit, and warm light filled the small utility room we were in. The light fell on the figure against the wall, and recognition jolted through me.

"Dr. Cooper?" I asked, my voice laced with disbelief. My history teacher shielded his eyes from the light, squinted as he got used to it. His glasses were broken against his face, and he had blood that had started to coagulate on his temples.

"Morgana? What... what are you doing here?" He asked me, rubbing his head with his hand.

"We could ask you the same thing," Sam interjected.

"What happened to you?" I reached out to his head and shattered lens. He let out a dry, humorous laugh.

"I tripped trying to run from the chaos, and then hid in here to catch my bearings," he chuckled again, "I thought..."

He trailed off.

"You thought what?" I pressed.

"I thought when I heard you guys come in... I thought it was over," he admitted.

"It might still be if we don't get moving." Sam shifted uneasily. Dr. Cooper nodded weakly. I hesitated; taking him with us is going to slow us down. I looked down at his broken glasses again; he's going to slow us down.

What am I doing? I asked myself. Leaving him here is unthinkable and immoral.

"You're coming with us," I motioned for him to get to his feet. I hooked my arm under his and yanked him forward. Cooper winced as he stood, but didn't fight me.

"You always were stubborn," he smiled, holding his head in his hands. I was finally able to see his pupils were dilated to different sizes. I glanced around the room before finding a small window near the ceiling. Big enough to slid our bodies through, but small enough, we would have to take our bags separately.

"There!" I pointed to the window, "Help me get Dr. Cooper through."

Sam nodded, sliding a crate up to the window. As Cooper disappeared into the darkness through the window, we heard the doorway bang and the familiar voices of our attackers outside through the door. I heard the frame splinter.

"Morgana, go!" He pushed me up the crate, and I grabbed the frame of the window. I used all of my upper body strength to pull myself through; after I made it through, I spun around and passed our bags through one by one. As Sam was making his way through the window, the door broke open. The deadbolt made a loud bang as it hit the concrete floor. I grabbed onto Sam's wrists, trying to pull him through against the hands that gripped his jacket. Sam kicked back with a desperate shout, and he came free. I pulled him through, and we landed on a heap outside.

"Run!" Sam scrambled to his feet, helping me to mine. Cooper sat on the ground, holding his head in his hands before throwing up on the ground in front of him. He must have hit his head really hard. I knew he wasn't going to be able to go far, but we have to make it to a less visible area. I lowered the flame on our storm lamp and hopefully made it so we are less noticeable. I pointed towards a narrow grove of trees; it could provide us with cover for tonight.

I sank onto a fallen log, my legs shaking from fatigue. Sam sat next to me, dropping his pack on the ground, his chest heaving. I shivered slightly while glancing over at my companions. I would have to start a fire.

"Sam, can you grab some rocks to build a fire ring, I'll get some fuel. We'll need to rest for tonight and go in the morning when we have more light." Sam nodded, disappearing off into the darkness. I grabbed an array of small and larger pieces of wood; enough to keep the fire burning small for tonight.

Eventually, the small fire crackled to life. The light casting shadows along the twisting tree branches; in the darkness, they looked like writhing limbs. Sam sat across from me, setting down a small bundle of sticks. He leaned back against the palms of his hand, his hands sunk slightly in the earth. I could see his usual snark had dulled from the weight of today.

Cooper sat on the other side, and we formed a triangle around the fire. Cooper pulled his dress jacket around himself, shivering slightly from the crisp breeze. He looked even more frail in the firelight.

"Well, since it seems we are going to be stuck within each other's vicinity for the time being, we might as well get to know each other! As you guys know, I'm Dr. Cooper. I really enjoy history, which is why I became a doctor... but don't worry, in cases of medical emergencies, I just call myself Mr. Cooper. I know we did those awkward ice-breakers at the beginning of the semester, but I never really get to know my students."

He looked at us expectantly, waiting for someone to speak up. It was just like the beginning of class all over again: the teachers trying to get people to warm up to each other, and the students just awkwardly staring forward at him.

"I know I had mentioned it briefly, but I grew up in Norridewock, Maine, probably a five hour drive from here, or so. My family - my father, mother, and sister Claire - ran an animal farm and apple orchard. We were able to grow a decent portion of our own food while still operating a roadside stand and participating in the farmers market. Outside of that, I was raised Pentacostal; I'm not really sure if I have faith or I just went to appease my parents." I thought for a moment, trying to think of something else to say, "I'm a really good shot with a rifle, too."

Sam spoke up next, "Wow! You're not even going to tell him that we are childhood best friends! I see how it is."

I laughed.

"I grew up in the same town, went to the same pentacostal church, not going to lie Norridewock is so fucking boring." Sam pondered for a moment, "My parents owns the general store in town - the kind that had everything - and I would always talk to the people that came in. The town was boring, but the people - their stories - are what made it interesting. Before we came down for college I lived with my dad right in town; our house was like 5 feet from main street."

"Maine street," I joked. I got some pity laughs from both Sam and Dr. Cooper.

"I've always wanted to visit Maine. I've lived Mass for basically my whole life, and while I've traveled the world, there's so much of my country that I haven't seen yet," Dr. Cooper remarked, "It's a little bit harder now, but maybe one day, if everything goes to normal."

"It's crazy how fast everything fell apart," Sam remarked, "One moment we were eating lunch and the next..."

"People will always use chaos and tragedy to get ahead," Dr. Cooper spoke up, "However, history is full of collapses like this - people always think their society is invincible - until it isn't. It is never a matter of if, but when."

"Well, that's comforting," Sam said, throwing a stick into the fire. As it made contact, small sparks flew into the air. I leaned back against the log, resting my hands on the earth. I felt the dry leaves against the fingertips and heard the soft crunch.

"So, what's the plan for everyone from here? Say the power never comes back on. Things never go back to normal. What are you guys going to do?" Dr. Cooper asked both of us.

"Survive," I answered bluntly. What other option is there? Die?

"That's not exactly a plan," Cooper chuckled before wincing. His head had stopped bleeding, but I could tell that he had given himself a concussion, "Survival is important, but what's your endgame? Where will you go? What will you work towards?"

It was such a broad question, one that I was sure I knew how to answer. I want to make it back to my family, especially my sister, Claire. I took too long to answer, and Cooper spoke up again.

"Tell me what you wanted to do - or still do if everything goes back to normal." Dr. Cooper looked at me expectantly.

"I wanted to work as a physician in my aging community," I answered honestly.

"Look at you," Sam wrapped his arm around me, giving me a side hug, "So nice, so moral, so good." He chuckled, "I was going to be a journalist, investigative reporting, you know? I want to be yelled at by politicians and have the CIA want to put me down."

"Did that interest come from your time working with your parents?" Dr. Cooper asked.

"Yes, plus someone's got to do it. Although, I don't think there's much of a market for a hard-hitting exposé now."

"Maybe not." Dr. Cooper's voice was calm and steady. He ran a hand through his grey hair, his fingers getting stopped from the coagulated blood that he tried to work out, "Though it's important to have people record history."

"Sam Reed, apocalypse reporter," he said while motioning in the air like his name was in lights.

"Who are you going to interview? The guy with the baseball bat?" I laughed.

"Hey, a story is a story," Sam smiled and shrugged.

"Do either of you regret the path you were on?" Cooper asked us.

"I don't regret it. It just sucks that it feels unfinished. All those years I wasted studying that are now - potentially useless," Sam answered.

"Perhaps this is a moment to start fresh, to rebuild." Cooper nodded slowly.

The fire crackled softly as we sat in a comfortable silence; the heat doing its best to fight away the chill of the night. My dreams felt like another life. It felt distant and unreachable. I'm glad I shared them, though. They're a small reminder of who I am.

"We should get some rest," I said, breaking the silence, "We've got a long way to go tomorrow."

Sam stretched and groaned dramatically before resting his head on his bag, "Alright, if you say so."

The fire burned low as the night went on, the glow of their embers providing small amounts of heat and light to our small party. As it slowly died in the night, it reminded me of the world that I felt slipping away.

When I fell asleep, I found myself back in Cambridge, with Sam across from me. He was taking a bite of his burger, and a blob of ketchup fell on his plate. He then used the fries to wipe up the spilled condiment.

I was filled with a sickening sense of deja vu.

The room began to dim, and the lights began to flicker. I stood up, and I tried to yell, to warn people, but my voice didn't come out. The hum of the electricity continued until it was deafening, a continuous roar of noise. Until, darkness.

The lights turned back on, and I was met with an empty room, the tables lined with half eaten plates of food. All that remained was a storm lantern in front of me. I grabbed the metal handle, and it instantly lit up. I walked towards what I knew to be the exit of the dining hall, but instead of campus, I was met with the outside of my childhood home.

The cedar barn, the rolling fields, my chicken coop, and the forest that surrounded it. I felt the unmistakable weight of eyes watching me, but when I looked into the tree line, I saw nothing.

I woke up in a cold sweat, my chest heaving up and down. The dim glow of the campfire did little to take my mind off the odd dream. I pressed a hand to my face, trying to steady my breathing. After a few minutes, I was able to calm myself, and I threw the rest of our fuel into the fire.

Sam stirred beside me, "You okay?"

I nodded, "Yeah, just a dream."

He nodded before turning back over and falling asleep. I rested my head on my backpack again, my mind spinning at our journey tomorrow. I honestly had no idea where to even start. I might as well go north and follow the coastline; eventually, I'll find someone I recognize and can make it home. I glanced around the trees once again, trying to find anything in the darkness.

In the distance, just beyond the firelight, it felt like someone - or something - was there. I tried to shake the feeling. It had to be my imagination or a street cat or something. Against my screaming anxiety, I forced myself to fall back asleep.