"How long was it?" The kid asked me. 

"Eighteen months. Every three months a new strain of the virus hit." I paused sipping the almost too sweet drink. 

"People lost their homes, their jobs. Civilization crumbled like a figurative zombie apocope." 

Jack listened, sitting still transfixed by what I was telling him. 

"It didn't take long for people's sanity to slip away from them, like a good dream that you can't fully recall." 

  "Soon, things ran out, nessecities were scarce. People began fighting, riots the streets were a war-zone, covered in blood and despair... It was horrid." I paused, letting my words sink into his thought process. 

"Seeing something like that just changes you." 

"It sounds really bad, sir." 

"That's an understatement. The best way to put it, was as if the newer version of the black plauge gave birth to another great depression with the L.A riots in the mix." 

"Oh I learned about it in our history class last semester." He informed me. then looking at ne with a strange curiosity, "How many people died?' 

"A quarter of the worlds population." 

"When?" 

"Summer of 2022." 

"You're lucky to be alive." 

"Something like that, yes." I replied.