From inside the Bunker-Tammy Blakley

The squirrel chittered and flapped his tail, sitting on the side of the desk. I tossed him another peanut as I monitored the counter ticking closer to zero.

"Here you go, Buddy. Eat up, cause this is it." I took a bite of the stale Twinkie and licked the filling off my fingers.

Prepare for shutdown in five minutes.

The message on the screen flashed in red letters and a siren screamed through the bunker. I gazed at my little friend sitting on his hind legs, looking for more food. How had we gotten here?

It's kind of a funny story, really, and I probably would be laughing my ass off if the world wasn't about to end. Back, oh, thirty some odd years ago, before I was born, war broke out. In a massive show of "mine's bigger than yours," all the world leaders with nukes lobbed them at each other. Over half the population died instantly. They were the lucky ones. Slowly over the years, more died from radiation poisoning. Toxic air filled the sky and the water emitted a green glow. No crops grew. All the animals and the rest of the people perished—except me and the squirrel—the last two living beings on earth.

I picked up the manual and flipped to the last page.

Mankind had the opportunity to survive as a species but chose mutual destruction instead. Open the latch marked. "End of Days."

I flipped open the latch and pulled out the object—an Obsidian Die.

"What do we do with this, Buddy?"