The quest home- a look into the soul of a few travelers as they find their way after the apocalypse

Here is my thought for this effort, This story is to take place in the near to no so distant future after the biblical apocalypse has taken the righteous from this world and left it plagued with demons, those not saved and the less then dead. I would like anyone who wants to collaborate to please take up where the last has left off and continue but in the eyes of another member of the group. Please feel free to bring your personality into the character you select to write about. I have started it off with my character Ben Crimson. I will give a brief character synopsis below. Please follow suite with the character you have decided to write about.

Ben Crimson: age 28
Married 2 kids and a damned ugly dog- all missing dead or taken unknown
Served four years in the Marine Corps before being selected for a secretive black ops career



I’m sitting here on what used to be the fertile wheat fields of Kansas just miles to the west of what used to be the Capital, it’s my turn on watch I hate this lonely quite time of night with the smell of rotten flesh and the putrid smoke clinging to the insides of my nostrils all I can think about is the life I used to have my wife my kids and even that damn dog they loved so much. Now there all gone dead or missing, we all saw the signs and heard the warnings the end of times is near prepare to meet God they said, we should have listened I thought myself a good christen man my family a good christen family but little did I know that my work would leave these scars on my soul and leave me damned to watch as our world the world of man is overrun with demons and the evil of generations past. I hope to God my family didn’t suffer I hope that they were taken with the rest of the “good” people but somehow I fear that my sins were passed judged upon them as they were me. We are but a few out here in this dark place looking after one another trying to find our way to the pearly gates to find our families and life’s lost to find salvation in any way possible to escape this hell on earth. I can tell that from the Dew forming on the grass my watch is coming to an end and soon I will be able to attempt a few fit full hours of sleep, before we move westward to the last known mecca of human life living on this planet. it is said that we will be able to find Desmond there he is the last living prophet of god or so he claims and he is the first stop on our search for salvation. The snap of a dry twig brings me out of my medatation in a rush i jump up and swing my ar-15 in the direction of the noise, F*** (insert name) you scared the hell out of me. what the hell do you think your doing sneeking up on me like that i could of shot you...... please feel free to take it from here i will jump back in at the apropriet time.

reply to post by crimsongod21


"Shot me Ben?", said Fergal. "Aw you wouldn't do that now would you?"

Fergal was Irish, well he would be with a name like you might think. Yes he was indeed genuine Irish all the way from Ireland. About two weeks before it happened Fergal had arrived in the States to visit his cousin.

Back home he was a member of the Gardai, the civil police force in Ireland. Although they were not armed as a general rule most of the Guards had some weapons training. Fergal was 42 and still single. His Mam still had hopes of him becoming a priest although she knew in her heart of hearts this was not likely to happen.

He had been on his way to the airport to go home when the skies darkened and a tremendous wind arose. "Jaysus! Must be one of those hurricane things." he said out loud to himself. "Yes that's what it is."

Despite his Irishness, and the hopes of his mother, Fergal was not a religious man. He was however a very fair and tolerant man, sometimes more than he should be.

The wind was getting stronger and the air was moaning, or that was what it seemed like. Back home, he thought, they would call this the Banshee, the spirit often associated with imminent death. Of course Fergal did not believe any of that nonsense. The man in front of him fell to his knees as if giving up against the pressure of the wind. He raised his arms above his head and began swaying and moaning. All around him people were doing the same as if possessed. He realised as the sound of the people grew in a crescendo that they were praising the Lord and calling for Jesus to save them.

Fergal tapped the man in front. "What are ye up to?" he said. The man continued to moan his prayers and supplications to Jesus. "Daft bastard!" said Fergal. This whole crowd seemed gripped with some religious fervour, some unseen force controlling them in unison. Christians, thought Fergal, Christians being daft and believing in rubbish. 'Tis a storm so it is. That's all, so what is with this praying? He was struggling against the wind now.

A woman raced past him in the opposite direction, going with the wind. "It is the Rapture" she was screaming. "It is the Rapture."

The air pressure was dropping rapidly. Fergal could feel the effects and recognised them having flown open cockpit gliders to great heights. People were dropping, unable to cope with the conditions. They were gasping for breath. Fergal collapsed and blacked out.

When he came round he could see in the distance a massive deep black sky; a sort of whirling solid black mass such as he had never seen before. All around him were bodies. The cyanosed lips told the tale. Lack of oxygen had killed these people. He was lucky probably because of his years of breathing training as a singer and experience as a pilot pursuing his favourite hobby. The black mass was moving off. Two other people in the immediate area were also up on their feet. They made their way in the general direction of the city, but Fergal was nonplussed. These two seemed convinced that all the people round them had been taken to Heaven in the Rapture, or that at least their souls had, and that they must be so very wicked to have been left. Fundamentalist Christians he realised. He decided to leave then to their own devices. No time for that he thought.

The problem was what to do now? He could see in the distance that the airport was a non starter. Plumes of black smoke rose up where aircraft had been tossed about like leaves and were destroyed. With all the carnage around him he decided to head westwards to try and get out of the swathe of what he took to be the path of a massive hurricane. Food was not a problem, at least not at present, and one or two people joined him as he travelled. They were convinced this was the Judgement Day, but Fergal said nothing.

Nothing but a bit o' wind Fergal said when asked. These people who had gathered round him seemed shocked at this lack of belief.

And so they travelled west, each with their own agenda and thoughts.

"By the way Ben. You know that ugly dog of yours? Just how ugly was it? There was a real pug ugly dog hanging round the bins on the other side of that village we just passed."

Fergal that wasn’t a dog, that was a thirty pound rat you know as well as I do that since the end mutations have been common place what with all the facilities falling apart. I can still remember how I met ol Fergal; I was holed up in a small house just west of St. Louis Missouri trying to make sense of what I had seen and what was now left of the world. The world had fallen into chaos, most of the survivors had fallen into mad delirium, and rioting and violence were running rampant. Fergal had been traveling with a small group of people he had met shortly after the end began they were moving westward looking for what I’m still not sure. Fergal’s small party had been slowly “dying” out since day one by the time I saw him rummaging through the scrap metal outside my make shift shelter there was no one left with him. At first being highly skeptical of any person that was left after the end times I approached him with caution, after a quick exchange and realizing that he was no threat or more so that he intended to be no threat to me so I invited him inside where he told me his story. That seemed like so long ago though it was only about six months or so, time had really lost all meaning. We had seen so much since then, though we don’t talk about it Fergal being a non-believer and all he must be at a loss to explain all the demons in a rational manner.
I trust you slept well, we have a few hours before then sun comes up I should try and get a little sleep. I start to walk off in the direction of base camp oh Fergal keep your eyes to the south there is something out there I’m not sure what or who it is but it’s been watching us for a couple nights now.