One day, every human in Denver, CO woke up not remembering anything about who they were or why they were there.

Two weeks have passed since. A guy named Jim was sitting on a park bench. He was bright red and covered in dirt and blood, passing out a flier to anyone who walked by. The leaflet read: “Hello. I don’t know who I am, but I’m taking a leap of faith that I’m not the only survivor of this apocalypse. We have to stick together if we want any hope of survival. Please follow me to the nearest city and we can work together to figure out our next step. Please stay calm and stay safe.” It was followed by a map that lead to Denver. Some people were visibly terrified, some took the flier from him with a smile, and some just walked by, ignoring him completely. His legs hurt, and he had to be careful not to scratch too hard, or he would have to peel off another layer of his skin. But he would not give up. He had to find other survivors if they were going to make it in this new hellish world. A man approached him, reading the flier. “Where you from?” he asked. “I don’t know. I woke up in the mountains over there two weeks ago. This...this is the only thing I have left.” He lifted up his shirt to show the man where the bottom half of his torso had been clawed away. The open injury had healed weeks ago, but there was still pus and rotten flesh around the area. The man covered his mouth, took a deep breath, and nodded, “Let’s go. I’ll help ya.” Two hours later, they finally made it to Denver. They had lost count of how many fliers they’d given out, and how many people had agreed to follow them. But they needed a place to settle down and call headquarters. “Hey, buddy. The university has lots of space, and I know the layout in case we need to get in and out.” He nodded and they walked in that direction. They weren’t even close to the university when they stumbled upon a group of people trying to start a fire. Some of them looked over and noticed them. “Hello there! We’re trying to make a fire, but none of us remember what kind of branch is flammable and which isn’t.” “Oh, I can help you,” Jim said. The first two sticks he tried to light on fire didn’t work very well. But the third finally caught. They cheered, and Jim grinned. One of them stepped forward, “I’m Sandy. What about you?” “I think my name is Jim,” he said. “Oh!” she exclaimed, “I think I took a class taught by a professor James once. But I don’t know if that’s a coincidence or not.” Jim was about to respond, when an old man had walked up to them and cleared his throat, “Excuse me, I couldn’t help but overhear you talking about classes. And I’m not one hundred percent sure, but I think I might work at the university. If so, then there may be a list of teachers somewhere on campus. If we can find that, we may be able to learn your name.” Jim’s eyes widened excitedly, “We should get going.” The old man nodded, “Let me get something real quick.” He ran off, and returned with a small red wagon. There were bags of groceries loaded into the cart. “When I woke up, I was in a grocery store. I can’t eat all this by myself before it expires.” Jim nodded, “I found a house with running water when I was walking here.” “Me too,” Sandy said. A young woman stepped forward, “I found a Target. We could find some first-aid supplies for your injury and maybe some clean clothes.” Jim nodded. He had been wandering for two weeks, mostly in the same outfit. The only time he had a change of clothes was when he killed a man for his shirt. “Okay, let’s get moving,” he said. They happily followed him, and as they moved through the city streets, more and more people noticed the crowd and wandered over. Eventually, they had around fifty people, and by the time they made it to campus, the group had multiplied into hundreds. They made their way to the first building, but the doors were locked. “We need to find a janitor,” the old man said matter-of-factly. “How are we going to do that?” one of the beginners asked skeptically. “Not all of us lost all of our memories. We got here by remembering things. Specifically where things were. If we split up and search for anything that might be important, we might have a better chance of finding what we need.” Jim nodded, “Alright, let’s split up.” It took a few hours, but eventually they found the right key and gained access to the registrar. There was a list of full-time professors, and a few part-time professors. One of them was named James Robert Zimmerman. This must be him. He had a smile on his face as they continued their search. They found a list of classes being offered this semester, and they found his name. He had two classes. Introduction to Poetry and a senior seminar on Romantic-Era literature. They then found his office hours, which directed them to another building. That’s when they saw it. A guy with a backpack, walking across campus. He looked over and saw them. When he realized they weren’t attacking him, he jogged towards them. “Hi,” he said. “I was starting to think I was the only one in the city who still had their memory.” “That’s not true,” an older man said. “I still remember who I am.” The backpacked guy stopped, “Really? What’s your name?” “James Zimmerman.” He looked surprised. “I know you, don’t I? You’re my...oh shit.” Jim felt like he had been punched in the gut. “What is it?” The guy looked at him, “You’re my teacher. I’m in your poetry class.” The group fell silent. Jim didn’t know what to say. He felt like he was floating above himself, watching everything that was happening like a movie. Did he really want to know who he was? He was starting to feel comfortable with his new life as a survivor of the apocalypse. #Edit: note from author: I apologize for the length. I tried to write a longer story with less editing. I have to travel the next few days, and I am sad to miss the feedback, but will respond to comments as I get internet access.

One day, every human in Denver, CO woke up not remembering anything about who they were or why they were there.

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