When I woke up this morning, I wasn't expecting the nuclear apocalypse.

I wasn't even in my home country anymore. I'd been teleported to Boston, if the accents of the locals were any indication.

The locals that still had mouths, anyway.

I vomited up some irradiated biscuits and dissolved the taste of stomach acid with some grotesquely sweet Nuka-Cola. The air was thick soup. I knew I'd have to find shelter with humans whose brains hadn't melted.

And if the zeppelin hovering in the distance wasn't an indication of intelligent life left on Earth, then I didn't know what was.