An uncertain amount of time later...

The giant chicken chased me, mounted by Scooby-Doo as he yelled "RRR I'm gonna kill rouuuu!!!"

My legs were jelly, and I stumbled to the floor. Just as Scooby's scimitar thrust itself towards me, I rolled. All of a sudden I was falling, flailing my arms around. I wanted to scream, but no sound came out.

THUD.

I awoke with a start, sweat pouring from my forehead. I realised I was lying on the floor of my parents bedroom, but as I looked up to see my poor dying father, there was no one there. The sounds of rioting, looting, fighting and yelling that had been ever-present when I had fainted were gone. As I stood up and looked around, I felt immense confusion- there was no sign of human life anywhere, only the faint tweeting of birds in the freshness of the early morning.

There was no indication what day it was, and I could find not a single working electronic device to give me any sort of clues as to the state of the world.

That first day was one of nothing but confusion, as I tried to piece together what might have happened. I was baffled, simply because I was not dead. Had I somehow not succumbed to the sickness? No. That was impossible. There was not a single recorded case of a human surviving the plague, without turning into one of those goblin-like creatures, like my mother and brother had done as my father's life left his body.

Unless... I vaguely recalled that crazed missionary, and his ramblings about a "New Noah" but I couldn't bring myself to believe that could be me, I didn't want to cosmically inflate my own importance like that.

Outside was the aftermath of the ****, the riots, with boarded-up windows, smashed up cars and blood stained roads. Yet the backdrop was one of eery silence and calm. As I wandered around that day, I saw not a single human being dead or otherwise.

On the second day, my survival instincts kicked in. I began scavenging for food, in the various houses on my street.

On the third day I realised, with no other humans around, I could live wherever I wanted. So, upon packing a few essentials, I traveled a short distance to a nearby village, nestled in a sun-soaked valley once reserved only for the wealthy, and found a gorgeous cottage next to a pub. My kind of place.

The following week or so, I settled into some form of routine, which involved regular trips back to my hometown to pick up supplies, and books in the local library. This was so I could teach myself how to farm, allowing me to be less reliant on scavenging from limited food supplies.

Perhaps a couple of weeks after I had been living on my own, was when things actually started to get a little... interesting. On one of my regular trips through the suburbs, I walked through an alley way to reach my old house. I liked to go there every now and then and think back on what my life had once been. However on this occassion, as I turned a corner, I was startled to find...