Author's Note: Well, here it is, the first chapter of my post apocalyptic story! It took some doing to hammer out the details, but here it is, finished and with more chapters waiting to be written! I hope that everyone who wanted this story enjoys this opening chapter, as I put a lot of love into it! Now shall we begin?
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1,135 days before N-Day (Nuke Day)
Benjamin Lopez was busy in the locker room of his workplace, changing out of his uniform. He stripped the greasy clothing off his body and piled it on the floor. He reached into his locker to pull out his everyday clothes. Once he put them on, he had a feeling of cleanliness, though the feeling was little more than an illusion.
He supposed that working in a machine shop would do that to you. No matter how careful he was in the shop, he was perpetually getting coolant, grease and oils all over himself. Ben brushed the few remaining chips out of his hair as he finished putting his clothes on. He took stock of himself in the mirror and grunted as he looked.
Ben stood at around six-foot-one, with brown hair and brown eyes and the sun-kissed skin that was part of his Latin heritage. Truth be told, though, he looked more white than Latin, though he supposed he had his mother's Polish genes to thank for that. He noted the thick five o'clock shadow he was sure he picked up from his dad's side of the family. Though he wasn't really a fan of shaving, he figured that he'd have to shave tonight, unless he wanted to look like a ragamuffin.
He cracked his back and his arms as he stretched, popping each joint as it moved. He was grateful that his musculature was decent. Benjamin wasn't heavily built, but he wasn't a weakling either. He was what most people would call trim, but he was a far cry from fit or built. Ben finished putting his jacket on before grabbing his lunch bag and walking out the door.
He collected his stained uniform first, depositing it into the 'to be washed' bins outside the locker room. Ben still had a few more uniforms to go through before he'd have to get clean ones, but that was a problem for another week. He was happy that it was Friday, and that he was going home, with nothing to do over the weekend!
Although he relished in the solitude he had at hand, Ben was still a lonely guy. Having little to no friends was as much a curse as it was a blessing, since he had no one that he could hang with. There were some online friends he had, which he chatted with on the Xbox sometimes, but they were all far away. Some lived on the other side of the world, so meeting and hanging out in real life wasn't an option.
He supposed that he had his mental state to thank for his lack of friends. Ben had grown up for most of his life, devoid of any real friends. He always had trouble making and keeping them, since there was much about socializing and such that he did not get. It was a little over a year ago, just before his twenty-eighth birthday, that he learned that he had Asperger's Syndrome.
Though it was on the Autistic spectrum, he didn't exactly present as a typical autistic man, like from the movie Rain Man. Ben had no issue with school or any academic subject, really. It was in social circles that he fell short. Tells, hand signals and body language, which most people understood, went right over Ben's head. It was because of this that he found himself with few real friends.
It wasn't as though he didn't try to fit in and make friends. The problem was that no one was willing to take the time to help him through. Had someone been kind enough to help him navigate the social scene, which was a common part of life, he would have managed. But, as fate would have it, pretty much everyone he'd ever met in school was indifferent, or outright cruel, to the poor guy.
Various pranks had been pulled on the poor man as a boy, which left him bitter once high school had ended. It was because of several of these pranks that Ben fell into self-destructive patterns in which his marks suffered. His previously stellar academics had floundered, and he almost didn't graduate high school.
With few options, Ben found himself in a technical school to become a machinist. He thought it had been a good option at the time. There was a serious shortage of machinists, among other trades, with everyone going into computers. He figured that it was a good trade and that he'd be working with his hands. That he'd craft many various and unique pieces and get paid well for it. The reality of it was far different from what he'd expected.
He'd underestimated just how rapidly technology was advancing. Not long after attaining his journeyman's papers, he found himself working for a shit wage. He was also doing boring, repetitive jobs that belonged to first-year apprentices, not a fully certified Red Seal Machinist. With the way the economy was going, it was a miracle that he even had a job, since much of what he did was outsourced.
Putting that line of thought out of his head, Ben punched out and walked outside to his car. It was a 1967 Shelby GT 500 that his dad had owned, and it had been his for the last thirteen years now. Ever since his parents had died in that car accident just after his sixteenth birthday. Putting yet another unpleasant thought out of his mind, Ben turned the car over and left the parking lot.
He got on the 401 heading west and continued until he came to the Mississauga exits and took one. After taking the exit, he turned south and kept going until he got to Lakeshore. He turned west again until he came to a small cluster of shops and turned down the street next to them, before he turned down the alleyway behind the shops. Ben went down the alley until he came to the building where he lived.
He parked in his spot and locked his car up, before heading to the back door which led to his apartment. Ben looked back at his car and couldn't help but smile. It had been his father's pride and joy, having spent years hunting down authentic, working parts for that vehicle. He spent easily as long putting the damn thing together, rebuilding cars not only as his hobby, but his regular day job as well.
Victoria Lopez was leery of letting her husband spend so much of his time and hard-earned money in restoring it. Though, once it was finished, when Ben was ten years old, she had to admit that it was a thing of beauty. She also didn't mind letting Ezio Lopez take her out on date nights, which always had her giggling like a little girl whenever they got home.
Ben smiled at the many happy memories that were associated with this car. Even though there was a terrible point in time associated with it, there were too many good ones to justify selling it. Not only that, but he also couldn't bring himself to sell it, despite the many ruinous sums of money that had been offered to him for it.
Turning back to the door, Ben unlocked it, retrieved his mail from the mailbox and trudged on upstairs. He took his boots off and sprawled all over the couch, picking up his controller before turning on his gaming system. He played through the Witcher 3 for about an hour, before he decided he should wash up and check his mail.
Deciding to check the mail first, Ben found that there was little of any genuine interest, as it was mostly bills. The last letter grabbed his attention like a hot plate in his hands. It was a letter from CryoTek Industries, addressing him and him alone. Opening the letter, he read its contents and was surprised by what he was reading!
