by Gene Stiles
Zeus did his best to evacuate everyone from Atlantis, but many rejected his overtures, blaming the Olympians for the destruction engulfing them. Others simply refused to believe their world was ending. Some found the ships left behind by the Nephilim and Adrasteia’s warriors in the side channels off the River Gaia. As the waters rose, they were able to escape using the abandoned vessels. However, the climate was in turmoil and most were lost beneath the angry seas long before they could find safe haven on higher ground.
Within a year, all the continents shifted as one and the true nightmare began. The violently changing landscapes wreaked havoc with weather systems. Torrential monsoons lasting weeks at a time tore topsoil from the ground and swept it away, leaving behind nothing but barren, rocky terrain. Massive hurricanes ripped the seas apart and rising water levels swallowed whole land masses. Enormous tornados roamed across the planet like ravenous, demonic beasts hungry for the flesh of the world. Nothing and nowhere above ground was left untouched by the wrath of the Creator.
Those who knew of underground mountain cities or were close enough to reach them fled to the surviving sanctuaries. Many had waited too long, finding them already sealed against nature’s vicious onslaught. As the sky turned into an icy cold dome of deadly gray ash, they beat upon the doors, weeping, screaming and imploring those inside to grant them entry. Their piteous, terrified cries went unheard, their prayers unanswered.
Ever so slowly, the world they knew died leaving a clean slate for humanity to rise again someday. What they would do with it was another matter entirely.
The End