My name is Rachel Clancy.
Forty-seven years ago, a small number of people managed to survive Armageddon. If you want to call it survival. Now, we are all that’s left of humanity. This concerns me on so many levels I can’t even deal, so most of the time I don’t. I have too much on my plate to waste time thinking about things that happened before I was even born.
I just turned seventeen.
My birthday came and went without much fanfare. Unlike when I turned sixteen, and I accidently changed the world around me in a permanent way, my seventeenth birthday didn’t make anything monumental happen.
I keep wishing I could wake up and not know all the things I do. Shouldn’t the adults be protecting me from problems too large for me to handle?
Maybe it’s simply that events have become so intense. One second I’m planning, the next second everyone is carrying those plans out. I shouldn’t be in charge. Not when everything’s going to explode.
Up to this point, I’ve been really lucky, but let’s face it, luck usually runs out. My hands now shake when I hold my stakes. I’m so sick of killing vampires.