Franklin Minty wasn't surprised when he wasn't one of the people warped away by deities that he never believed in on Judgement day. He was awful, and he knew he was awful. He wasn't one of those 'non-believer but nice' guys, he was truly sadistic. He was a sexual predator, taking advantage of innocent or naive minded men and women to trick them out of money or into sleeping with him. And his family was filthy rich. He didn't need the money. He was charismatic and devilishly smart- he didn't need to trick people into sleeping with him. He did it because he could. He could smell the naivette from miles away, and he was drawn to their innocence like a shark to blood. He got a sick pleasure out of tainting the pure, ridiculing, demeaning, judging, hating, he considered the seven deadly sins his stomping ground. His father was a senator, his name was Benjamin Minty. Who was infinitely more sleazy and slimy than Franklin was. The only good person in their family, in Franklin's opinion was his sister Clara. She was pretty and sweet, but for some reason she wasn't warped away to heaven with the rest of the pious goody-goodies. She were there in the radiated wasteland just like they were. One thing that his Sleezebag father was actually good for, was being a paranoid maniac. He'd had a four story lead lined bunker built in their back yard, had it stocked for twenty years, (of most things) and had solar panels attached for renewable energy when the Y2K crisis struck fear into the hearts of the technology dense in 1999. Society didn't fall, but it fell in 2014 when Christ came back in the company of his 4 horsemen- famine, plague, war, and death. A great guy, Jesus. That was the time the three hit the bunker, with their buddy La Shawnda (who is kind of like an aunt to the kids) who happened to be there at the time. They emerged a few weeks later to see that a nuclear missile had hit somewhere in state- demolishing and radiating everything in miles of the contact point. They managed to be on the outskirts of where the radiation was- and it was tapering off- but no one really felt quite comfortable leaving that bunker. But in addition to that, they all couldn't stand each other. Mr Minty was insufferable. He smelled- and there were no windows. They couldn't get him to bathe- as he wanted to drink the water supply instead of bathe in it. In addition to all this, the Minty family was completely helpless when it came to taking care of themselves. None of them knew how to cook, clean, or do anything domestic as their maids had always done it. La Shawnda volunteered to do the domestic stuff in exchange for shelter. She hated the 'only minority around, doing all of the chores' dynamic, but at least she wouldn't get kicked out if they depended on her, and she figured she'd die anyways if she had to eat anymore uncooked Spam. After a while Franklin decided that he needed some time away from the bunker. "What made you think that eighteen rolls of toilet paper would suffice, dad?" Franklin hissed to his father in a demeaning tone. This was a gross exaggeration, of course. They had plenty of toilet paper, but it was disappearing at an alarming rate. "I was planning on throwing you all to the demons, son. If I was down here alone- instead of with three other pains in the asses, it would have lasted me." "What, an extra hour? You shit like a neanderthal." "Please guys, can we not talk about shit?" Clara asked playing Mario Kart, not even bothering to look over her shoulder at her squabbling immediate family. "I'm gonna go find more toilet paper," Franklin insisted, walking over to the bunker ladder. "You're going to risk your life for toilet--" "Let 'em," Mr. Minty waved his son off. "If he dies, more space for us." Clara sulked. She hated that her dad and brother were complete ignoramuses. "I'm taking the Smith and Wesson with me," declared Frank. "The HELL YOU ARE, TWERP." "Can you find potatoes?" La Shawnda asked sweetly, waving at him from the kitchen. "Bitch do you know how heavy those are??" "I only need a couple. I mean. Unless you want to eat more Spam." "UGH. I'll see what I can do. Anything else while I'm out?" "We're out of floss..." Clara noted. "Alright. Floss, potatoes, toilet paper--" He opened the gun and looked at the empty chamber. "And bullets." "No, don't bother, kid. You can bluff your way through a hoard of the undead, I'm sure." "Well I'm fuckin' hope so because I'm gonna have to." he grabbed a crowbar, hung it from his belt. He sighed and started to put on his rubber clothing and gasmask. It was lead lined- and really fuckin' heavy, but it made him feel better about wandering around in a radiated wasteland. He unhinged the bunker door and closed it quickly behind him. Locusts with golden armor, human faces, and scorpion tales quickly flew at him spewing acid and breathing fire- he took them out of the air with his crow bar. He couldn't bluff his way out of those fuckers. He started on his way to the outskirts of town to do some looting. It was lame that his family had all of the money in the world, and now it was all useless. The concrete jungle of the city he used to live in was dilapidated, at best. He had always thought that if and when the religious weirdos got warped away- the world would get better. Science would reign, wars would stop- the condition of the plight of the world would reduce- but instead society simply collapsed. It was--disappointing to say the least. Humming he kicked in a corner shop door and started to plop things into his backpack, until he heard the bell on the front door ring. He hid and held his empty gun at the shadow of whomever had just come in. He listened.