“The entire world is plagued by what we call as the Apocalypse Syndrome. White pupils and slight unnoticeable seizure characterize the Syndrome. The heart still beats in the state of paralysis. The victims buried in that state.
The conspiracy theorists believe that it is due to the End, presumably two years from now. The entire event traces back to the year of the Crisis. Next program will showcase how-”
Cynthia Lockwood switched off the television in an agitated manner. She did not like what was happening to this world. She felt helpless. Under her breath, she cursed the earlier humans for giving them this fate. Her phone began to vibrate with the occasional beeps. It was a text message. She read it and clutching her phone in her hands, she walked out her apartment to the Crisis headquarters. She needed to do something about the situation. There was always a way to solve things. She just needed to find out how.
“So, how many people reported suffering?” Kratos asked Jacqueline. Three days had passed since the first Apocalypse Syndrome, Aps for short, had been recorded.
“783, sir,” she responded with a slight sadness in her voice. He covered his face and tried controlling his rapid breath. ‘This is not right,’ he thought.
“Have you contacted the International Alliance?” he asked again, not bothering to look at her.
“Yes, sir” she affirmed, “and the Treaty Organizations.”
“How many have responded?”
“All, sir,” she confirmed, worried over the International Relevance of the Syndrome. “Are we going to die, sir?” she asked with a small inaudible voice.
“I don’t know, Jacqueline,” he quavered while resting his head on his hands. “I don’t know.”
“Cynthia Lockwood?” the receptionist repeated in awe. “As in The Cynthia Lockwood? I have heard of your works in Crisis history. I’m a big fa-“
“Where is Kratos DeNial?” Cynthia cut her off. This was not the time to bask in the glory of being a world-famous historian. “I’m here to meet him.” She took out her phone and showed the receptionist the text message given by Jacqueline Gradius, DeNial's assistant.
“Of course,” she felt dejected. Giving Cynthia a pass, she gave her the directions to his office. The receptionist feared the End, but secretly delighted in meeting Lockwood, in person. She saw Cynthia walk away to meet DeNial. Then, suddenly felt herself getting stiff. She was thirsty. She needed water. Water. She picked up a glass of water on her table but it slipped out of her fingers and fell down to the ground. She tried getting up, but she could not feel her legs. Beads of sweat covered her forehead. She needed help. When she tried to speak, nothing came out. What was going on?
In a desperate attempt to gain control of her body, she stood up. It proved to be a fatal mistake. She fell down to the ground with a thud. Her heart steadily drummed against the concrete floor, as a pool of blood surrounded her.