Mar 22th, 2026
Four days prior, Brenda Myers had habitually checked her phone upon waking, only to glimpse the headline of the Ecuadorian currency's collapse. At that moment, it was nothing more than a fleeting news item, scarcely registering in her morning routine.
The next day, reports of hyperinflation surging through the United States nudged at the edges of Brenda's awareness. Yet the dominating demands of her academic pursuits firmly held her focus.
By the third morning, a more pressing alert had surfaced: ATMs across the European Union had ceased dispensing cash, a fallout from widespread panic leading to bank runs. The message's subdued tone belied its gravity, setting off a silent alarm in Brenda's mind. Nonetheless, she adhered to her customary schedule, attending classes as if all remained unchanged.
It was only when the stark echo of a gunshot sliced through the crisp air of the start of Spring—its origins obscured—that the unfolding catastrophe truly seared itself into Brenda's psyche. From the precarious vantage point of her classroom window, she saw the panic-stricken flight of students and professors, a chaotic exodus soon amplified by townsfolk wielding crude makeshift weapons. A scene of horror unfolded: a young woman was seized and borne away by an unknown assailant; an intervening student was summarily stabbed, his body crumpling to the earth.
Instinctively aware of her surroundings, Brenda retreated from the looming threat, stealthily navigating the labyrinth of lesser-known passageways and alleys. With every step, she consciously melded into the shadows, becoming one with the murky backdrop that shielded her from prying eyes. Her heart pounded in her chest, a steady reminder of the chaos unraveling around her.
As Brenda cautiously moved forward, her senses heightened by the cacophony of violence, she witnessed scenes that shattered the very fabric of her collegiate haven. Campus police, once symbols of order, had betrayed their allegiances, joining the ranks of the rioters. Students and faculty members alike were subjected to brutal beatings and vile robberies. The attackers' motives appeared to be an amalgamation of desperation and anger, resulting in wanton acts of violence that defied reason. Even those who meekly surrendered their possessions were met with merciless assault. Brenda observed it all, her eyes fixated on the grotesque theater of human depravity, her mind unable to escape the haunting imagery of the abducted girl. Fear, focused determination, and patience surged within her, fueling her resolve to survive and find the temporary refuge of her dormitory room.
Once inside the building, safely up the stairwell, Brenda ducked into the shadow-draped alcove of the communal bathroom, her heart pounding to a frenetic tempo against her ribs. The echoes of screams and the crackling chaos outside pierced even these refuge walls. No place was truly safe, she realized—that much was clear.
Gazing into the flyspecked mirror, she took stock of the reflection before her. Brenda's hazel eyes, known for their intensity and intellect, now scanned her visage for any traces of the charm that often captivated those around her. Today, she yearned for inconspicuousness, to be forgotten in the sea of chaos. With a swift, determined motion, she unpinned her chestnut hair, allowing the strands to fall in disarray around her face, obscuring her distinctive features, masking the subtle hints of her Asian ancestry—a trace that, in these uncertain times, could attract unwanted attention or foster misplaced desire.
Standing at a modest 162 cm, Brenda typically exuded an understated poise that compensated for her lack of stature. She possessed a commanding presence that effortlessly drew attention in any room. But now, this natural authority posed a risk she couldn't afford. She consciously slouched, trying to appear smaller, desperately hoping to blend into the background like a phantom lurking at the fringes of this crumbling world.
The charred end of an overheated curling iron left behind on the sink provided her with a smudge of ash, which she applied to her face. The grime and shadows served to soften her prominent German jawline—a feature that often defined her. As she adorned this new identity, it felt as if she were painting on a mask that spoke not of vibrancy and scholarly pursuits but of survival, a disguise that would shield her from the turmoil that now engulfed everything.
As Brenda stepped out of the bathroom, her resolve solidified into a steely determination. The chaos outside was staggering, unfathomable, and terrifying, but she had a plan. She would become as unremarkable as possible, a mere whisper in the corridors of upheaval. Brenda had steeled herself for what lay beyond the bathroom door, knowing that every step she took was one closer to survival.
Once back in her room, Brenda took a moment to survey the campus below. It had transformed into a scathing playground of violence, with at least a hundred people storming around like wild animals. The cafeteria was the epicenter of the mayhem, and most of the crowd seemed to gravitate toward that building. With a deepening sense of dread, Brenda realized that it could be a source of attacking hunger, which explained why the attackers were fixated on overrunning it.
She made a conscious decision to wait out the few hours until darkness offered some protection against prying eyes. An important part of survival was gathering resources, and Brenda knew she needed to prepare. She took another glance out the window and noticed that there seemed to be little interest in the dorm rooms. This gave her some confidence to begin her search without fear of immediate detection.
Brenda allowed herself a five-minute window to confront her emotions, her personal countdown to mental fortitude. Back in Bavaria, she had been considered an adult since the age of 14, a precocious talent in both STEM disciplines and linguistics. Her academic prowess had fast-tracked her to university by the age of 16. For the past six years, she had diligently pursued her master's degree, focusing on applied electronics, quantum physics, and nanotechnology. But now, with her doctorate on the horizon, a mere two months away, the inconceivable was happening — the world was crumbling. Internally, she unleashed a silent scream of frustration, a tempest of desperation for the years of effort now teetering on the brink of irrelevance. If, no when, she survived this trek she was going to consider that her dissertation, Masters degree complete. Would there be enough of a world left to argue with her?
In the final two minutes of her allotted time, her thoughts raced to her family, her heart knotting with concern. What was their fate in this disintegrating world? But as the seconds dwindled, Brenda forcefully closed the door on her fears. She compartmentalized her emotions, locking them away. It was time for pragmatism, not panic.
Brenda's heart thundered with a fearful urgency, yet her mind was a tranquil sea of resolve. With surgical precision, she tucked her trepidation away into a mental vault to be faced at a safer time. Her room became a scavenger's playground, where she meticulously curated a collection of survival essentials. Selecting these items was a delicate balance between utility and weight—a paradoxical dance of necessity and nimbleness. It was a slender thread to hold onto, but in the maelstrom of chaos, it was her lifeline.
Surveying her modest arsenal, a wave of relief washed over Brenda. Remnants of civilization still clung to the grid—power, water, internet, and cell service remained her lifelines to a world teetering on the edge. The lights flickered with a silent promise of hope. She knew she had to move quickly, plugging in her tablet and phone to gather their electronic lifeblood while she still could.
Digital maps and survival videos began to populate her phone's memory. With each download, her journey back to Mittenwald—a corner of southern Germany imprinted in her heart as home—shifted from a distant dream into a tangible goal. This was no leisurely three-day hike; it was a gauntlet that would test every ounce of her being. She calculated for variables—sleep, foraging, detours around the vestiges of societal decay. A bicycle might expedite the journey but could also paint her as a target. Regardless, Brenda set her compass toward Germany—it was her mental fortress amongst the ruin. Plotting her stealthy advance across the Rhine to Konstanz, she mapped out a route that dodged the perilous entanglements of urban collapse.
The road ahead promised nothing short of trial by fire, yet Brenda was not deterred. Armed with her wits and a survivalist’s toolset, she would brave the wilderness of a world reborn. Packs secured and spirit steel-clad, she was ready to step into the unknown.
Within her room, Brenda seized the tools of self-sufficiency—a solar-powered hat with an integrated battery bank and a blazing LED headlamp—yielding both light and power from the sun. A stationary solar charger joined her inventory, ensuring connectivity even under sullen skies. These were her beacons in the encroaching darkness of a society undone.
With a sigh of resignation, Brenda reached into her fridge, knowing that the weight of her dwindling provisions would be a burden to bear. She collected three liters of water—her salvation in the harsh, unforgiving wasteland that lay ahead. The weight of the bottles was a physical reminder of the struggle she would soon endure, yet the toll it exacted on her body was a small price to pay for survival. She was grateful there was still a lone apple sitting atop the fridge.
Her eyes searched through the barrenness of her fridge for any remaining signs of sustenance and found a glimmer of hope in a jar of spicy relish. It was half-full but could mean the difference between sustenance and starvation. After a fleeting moment of indecision, Brenda decided to take it. She could use it to flavor any extraneous edibles she might come across on her journey. Alternatively, the small jar that contained it had its own uses—a container for foraged bugs or berries, or perhaps as makeshift storage for other supplies. The thought of the punishing effects of hunger was the specter that loomed over every thought.
Brenda hesitated for a moment, contemplating whether there was anything else to take with her on her treacherous journey. She knew that weight was a concern, but winter clothing was indispensable for the harsh environment she was to traverse. She shoved two extra changes of heavy winter clothing and extra socks into her already-bulging backpack. It took up precious space, but she had no choice. She knew full well the elements that awaited her and understood that protecting herself from the biting cold was key to her survival.
Her fingers swept across the empty outer mesh pockets of her bag, trying to think outside the box. From her work drawer, she grabbed her iFixit kit, her plug-in current checker, and lastly, her Swiss army knife went in her pocket. The latter was illegal under the school's no-weapons zero-tolerance policy but a cherished gift from her deceased grandpa. Her pack was now full beyond capacity, and there was no more room. She sighed, resigning herself to the fact that without access to running water and in the throes of strenuous exercise, she was going to get pretty ripe pretty fast. She tried to push the thought away, knowing that her survival was her top priority, but it lingered in the back of her mind.
As dusk flirted with the horizon, Brenda seized the remaining moments of serenity to reach out to her parents. Fumbling with the phone, she half-expected the call to falter in a "circuits are busy" dirge. But luck—or fate—cast its lot, connecting her to their answering service.
"Mom, Dad," she whispered into the digital void, "chaos reigns here, unbridled and ravenous. Regrets for not fleeing sooner haunt me, yet I march for home with unwavering conviction. The journey will span weeks, and as long as the threads of communication hold, my voice will find you amidst the silence. Konstanz is my beacon; the Austrian border, my guide. Pray the world is kinder by your hearth. Fear not for me, adaptability is my kin. With love etched upon every step, Brenda."
Ending the call, the night's veil was descending—a cloak of anonymity for her departure.
She added two sweaters and baggy exercise tights over her jeans to craft a more masculine silhouette, her sheepskin boots completing the look of a seasoned hiker rather than a student. With a pair of sneakers tied together and hung around her neck, Brenda was dressed for her journey, bracing herself against the uncertainties of the road ahead.
Brenda eyed her backpack apprehensively, knowing that its reflective orange exterior could easily draw unwanted attention. Determined to conceal its brightness, she slyly heaved it onto her back before slipping her roommate's oversized coat over it, three sizes too large but perfect for the job at hand. With the backpack now hidden from sight, Brenda appeared more imposing, her small frame seemingly engulfed by the bulky coat.
She let out a deep breath and looked around her dorm room one last time, feeling the warmth start to build with all the layers she had stacked on. The time had come to embrace the unknown, to venture boldly into the night. Brenda steeled herself for the challenges that lay ahead, ready to face them head-on. She stepped out into the darkness, ready for the journey to Konstanz and whatever the world had in store for her.