One day the apocalypse occurs, as written in the old texts by the gods. A few people are left standing, one of them is a necromancer. They must use their power and bring everyone back to life.
Max knows the prophecy can’t be ignored. They know that and they fully intend on resurrecting everyone soon. How they’re going to go about resurrecting over 7 billion people, they don’t know yet, but they’re going to do it. Starting tomorrow.
Or maybe the next day.
The day after that? Definitely.
“Pass me a coke, would you?” Donovan asks from the other side of the couch. He’s lazily scratching his bare stomach, eyes glued to the TV where the fourth season of Archer is playing. He doesn’t see Max’s eyes wander, which is good because that’d be super embarrassing.
Who knew it’d take the end of the world to realize that their next door neighbor is crazy hot?
“Sure thing,” Max says and fishes one out from the tub of ice next to them. They’ve got pretty much unlimited ice since no one else is staying at this motel (for obvious reasons) and the mini fridge is already packed full of perishables from the small market downstairs.
“You’re the best,” Donovan says, catching the soda without looking and cracking it open. He takes a long drink and sighs. “What are we going to do when the junk food runs out?”
Resurrect everyone, Max almost says before biting their tongue. Donovan doesn’t know about magic or necromancers. They think he’d be acting very differently if he did know. “Oh, I’m sure that’s a long way off.” They push down the stab of guilt.
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