Scorpion String | Chapter 2

Serial Fiction | Novel Draft

—Diane—

It’s 2038, and my twentieth birthday is looming, though it hardly seems significant now. The Earth has transformed into a desolate place, scarcely habitable.

Just as I was stepping into adulthood, fresh from high school and ready to embark on what I envisioned as my dream life, everything changed.

My mother had been strict about social media, only allowing me to start creating content when I turned sixteen. I dedicated two years to building my presence on YouTube and TikTok, the stalwarts of video sharing. After two years, my goal was ambitious yet attainable: reach one hundred thousand followers by turning eighteen.

I was on track to achieving that milestone, pouring my creativity into every video, chasing trends, and connecting with my audience. The prospect of reaching a million followers fueled my determination, driving me to push harder and create more engaging content daily.

However, the landscape of our lives shifted irrevocably with the detonation of the first bomb.

Today, instead of curating content and engaging with followers, my days are consumed by the struggle for survival. I boil bloody-looking seawater, hoping that evaporation and condensation will yield enough fresh water for a drink. The world of social media influencers and the dreams it housed evaporated as swiftly as the water in my makeshift distillery.

The dawn in May breaks over Virginia Beach, but it’s not like any of the sunrises I remember. The sun, which used to be so bright and warm, now fights just to shine through the dark, heavy skies. It’s like a dim shadow of what it used to be, barely able to light up the world that’s been so brutally changed by celestial assaults, a testament to the ravaged cosmos.

Virginia Beach, the place I once considered simply beautiful in its modesty, is hardly recognizable now. Everything has changed since the global earthquake stilled the Earth beneath us.

This quake, which knocked the Earth off its axis by almost twenty degrees, looks from above like a monster tore through our planet. It’s as if giant claws scratched deep wounds across the Earth, leaving canyons filled with darkness and rivers of lava where there used to be life. It’s a chilling sight that marks our planet with the scars of its suffering.

I remember seeing it in a video once when the government still shared information with us.

In January of 2036, the world’s population stood at 8.9 billion. Then everything changed: war broke out, followed by pestilence and famine, and then came the celestial assault. After that, the Earth seemed to fight back, unleashing regional quakes and then the massive global quake that everyone called Behemoth. Since then, our population has plummeted to just 4.6 billion.

I’m privy to this information because my dad was a cybersecurity specialist for the Navy stationed in Norfolk. That was his official title, at least—that’s all we were ever allowed to know. But I always suspected he was involved much more than he let on. For a while, he shared what he was allowed with me, at least until they killed him.

“What’s he doing?” Jack asked as he came up beside me.

I glanced at Jack, then back up the hill toward Matthew. But it wasn’t just any hill—it was a grotesque reshaping of our landscape, a deformity along the beaches that used to throng with tourists. Atop a rugged promontory, scarred and battered by meteoric impacts from the early days of the apocalypse, stood Matthew. He was weary, leaning against a fragment of rock, his gaze sweeping over the devastated expanse below.

“I dunno, but can you feel it?”

Jack paused, processing my question. “Feel what?”

I knelt, pressing my palm against the Earth, questioning my senses. The ground seemed to hum beneath my touch, a subtle vibration that sent shivers down my spine. “That vibration.”

“You guys okay?” echoed Matthew’s voice from afar.

“We’re fine. What are you up to?” Jack shouted in return, hands shaped around his mouth to carry his voice further.

“I don’t feel anything,” Jack admitted, kneeling beside me, his brow furrowed in confusion.

“Hey, Matthew’s waving for us. He must see something. Come on.”

Rising to my feet, I faced the daunting slope ahead. Heights have always been my nemesis, and this one seemed particularly terrifying. The ground was a treacherous mix of loose gravel, rocks, or maybe even coal, angled almost vertically.

“You okay?” Jack’s hand rested gently on my shoulder, returning me to the moment.

I turned to look at him, reminiscing about our high school days. Back then, Jack was the epitome of athleticism and charm—strong, handsome, and the object of many girls’ affection. He excelled in football and was academically gifted. However, the robustness that defined him has given way to a leaner frame. His strength is still apparent but obscured by scars, grime, and the tangled mess of his hair and beard, resembling a neglected, old dog.

“Yeah, let’s go,” I managed to say, the words serving more as a pep talk for myself than an answer to his question.

As Jack and I ascended the rugged slope towards Matthew, a low, ominous rumble echoed through the desolate landscape. The ground beneath our feet quivered slightly, causing loose rocks to shift and tumble down the incline.

I froze, my heart pounding as I scanned the horizon for any sign of danger. “Did you feel that?” I asked Jack, my voice trembling with unease.

He nodded, his brow furrowed with concern. “Yeah, something’s not right. We need to hurry.”

With renewed urgency, we pressed onward, each step a precarious dance with gravity on the unstable terrain. The air grew thick with tension, every sound magnified in the eerie silence of the post-apocalyptic world.

As we neared the summit, a sudden wind whipped through the ravaged landscape, carrying the faint scent of smoke and decay. My senses went on high alert, my instincts screaming at me to turn back, but I forced myself to push forward, driven by the need to reach Matthew’s vantage point.

Just as we reached the crest of the hill, a deafening roar shattered the stillness, sending shockwaves rippling through the Earth. Jack and I staggered, clinging to each other for support as the ground convulsed beneath us.

And then, just as quickly as it had begun, the tremors subsided, leaving behind an eerie calm. But in the distance, a plume of smoke rose ominously against the darkened sky, a silent harbinger of the dangers that lurked ahead.