We all knew it was coming. The tensions between the Russians and the Americans had grown to new heights. That year, the Doomsday Clock was only seconds to midnight. And then Russia made the biggest mistake ever. A glitch in their deteriorated Early Warning System, or EWS, caused by a harmless satellite launch by Norway, set the clock ticking away.

The order was given, and their last nuclear warheads, seven hundred in total, were launched at the U.S. America retaliated, sending their last warheads across the Atlantic and Pacific oceans to Russia. Three out of every five missiles hit their targets; the northern hemisphere and much of the southern hemisphere is rendered uninhabitable by nuclear radiation.

I was at home, minding my own business when the missile struck just seventy yards from my home. The first nuclear wave hit, and I was on fire. The bomb then sent out the last wave less than a second after, putting out the fires and blowing everything in its path to pieces. I was buried in the remnants of my house. Severely burned and losing consciousness, I managed to turn my head just enough to see my beloved daughters face, or what was left of it, lying next to my dear wife's charred skeleton.

I blacked out as the world was destroyed around me.