I was 12 when the bloody hail came. The Goverment had fallen out of favor, they were denying our freedoms. That’s when the uprising began. Areas of the Union began calling themselves “countries”. War ripped through the planet like a knife through flesh. Then the red bombs fell. Each mushroom cloud adding to the death toll, the beautiful blossoms taking a city to a screaming, burning hell. Then there was winter. I write this in my cave as the bitter winds howl outside, that I have come to a drastic conclusion. I am the last human left on Earth.