The Leftovers

"Charlie!" Johns hand bled as he scrapped helplessly at the rubble. There was so much blood.
What if she was still alive? Dave survived, she could still be alive.
He eventually reached a box, and he pulled it out, smearing blood as it slipped from his hands. it was a huge chest, big enough for a person to barely squeeze. "Charlie..." he huffed softly. The locks on the chest came undone, and the top half flipped open. it was a deep void, playing music. Pop Goes the Weasel, but it was slower, and deeper. it stopped for a moment. something lunged from the dark at him.

John lurched out of his sleep, gasping as he tried to become oriented with his surroundings. He swallowed the nerves down as he looked around. Of course, that's what him and Mary were doing again, they were driving to meet her son.. oh..

it was a year ago today. everything had ended and when John visited the grave, there was a woman standing near the tree, extending her arm. after hesitation, John took it and they walked off to her car. That was Charlies mother. She was visiting the graves too.
Mary had asked if John had a place to stay. Losing his job not too long ago and moving out of his apartment into his car wasn't ideal, so he took her up on the offer.