This wasn’t her first apocalypse. Hell, it was at least her third today, but now those around her were freaking out. Yeah, things looked bad, but after all the stuff she had been through this latest meltdown was nothing. She pumped her shotgun with one hand and grinned. Today would either kill her or make her stronger. It was up to her to find out which. She threw open the door and the sun blinded her.
She bolted up in bed as the window shade spun. The stupid thing must have decided to coil up on its own. She took stock of her situation. She was relieved that the world wasn’t going to end, but there was something about being a badass that she felt was missing.
Suddenly there was a scream, a crashing of something downstairs, and then someone crying hysterically. Okay, so this would be her fourth apocalypse today, but she had this. She just wished she still had the shotgun.
The click of an empty chamber fell upon recently deafened ears. It was finally over, or at least Margret hoped so. Then there was the creak of a door opening downstairs. She dove under her bed. She had dropped a couple of rounds when loading last time. She just needed to find them.
The stairs creaked and groaned as the cause of the noise climbed to the second floor.
Margret’s searching hand slapped away a smooth metallic object. She stifled a curse and pulled herself further under the bed.
The door to the bedroom opened.
Margret felt tears fall from her chin. She closed her eyes and said a prayer. Her hand still searching, her fingers found the fallen round. She slowly opened the chamber and slid it in. She frantically tried to locate her assailant.