It was a fungus spore that finally did it, knocking humans off the top of the food chain, with a lot of help from a pharma company too busy thinking about oversized profits rather than subpar outcomes. Most folks died, if not from the fungus, then from the riots and starvation that came when the grocery store shelves emptied and the spigots ran dry. Plenty of other folks lived on with the fungus growing in their bones, rooting in their brains, and turning them three-quarters crazy. That's when I moved underground and sealed the hatch shut on my backyard bunker. I was safe, with all the food, water, and entertainment I needed for five or six years. I had DVDs to watch, music to listen to, and books to read. Prepping had paid off for me. At least it seemed so at first. After a time, my radio stopped picking up signals from the world up top and for all I knew I was the last man alive on Earth. I'd planned for that possibility, yet never truly accepted things could turn out that way. The loneliness set in, gnawing at me and making me think crazy thoughts, including one that would change everything. Two years on, I opened the hatch and climbed out of my bunker. I had to see if anyone but me was left.
Author
A bio is a weird thing to write. Just trying to imagine presenting the highlights of ME sets off alarm bells in my head. Why would anybody want to know anything about me? What about me is remarkable enough to tell? When I think about these questions, I recall lying on my bed back in high school, headphones muffed over my ears, heavy metal blasting through my head. As with most teens, music’s power seduced me, and as I listened, I found myself admiring the albums' cover art (yeah, I’m old enough that I used to by LP’s) and I found myself reading about the singers and guitar players and drummers in the liner notes. Why? Because those musicians had created something that was deeply personal, passionate, and wonderfully emotional, and they’d shared it with the world. They’d shared it with me. It made me want to know them through more than just their music. So, I read. Through the years, I found myself reading about writers I’d enjoyed, historical figures I’d admired, politicians who weren’t dipshits, and business leaders who’d built great companies. Again, why? Who the hell knows? We’re all just people. I think we find each other interesting. We like to feel connected. And that was my answer, at least as to the WHY. On the WHAT I can say about me, for those who feel moved by my work: I’ll give it a quick go. I was born an Air Force brat and lived in a dozen states before I graduated high school. I’ve worked my way through a wide variety of jobs, left most on a whim, owned businesses, lived through times when I had more money than I knew what to do with, and worried my way through times when I wondered how I’d pay the rent. Life has been boring at times, and it’s been plenty exciting, too. So far. I’ve traveled to India, stood atop the tallest mountains around, swam with sharks, smarted-off to cops, and been arrested. I’ve tried beer and weed, but never made a thing of either one. I’ve been brushed too close by death a few times. Thankfully, doctors, EMT’s, and nurses were kind enough to put all the pieces together again. I've ridden my bike so deep into the mountains it felt like I was alone on the edge of heaven, and I've watched the red sun sinking on an evening so clear it looked like it was falling off the edge of the world. I’ve always had a hard time being where I am, wherever that is. My daydreams forever call from just over the horizon. I’ve been asked by a dozen bosses where I see myself in five years, and I've lied every time, always telling them what they wanted to hear. Because the only thing I knew for sure, was that I wanted to be anywhere but there. Find out more: http://www.bobbyadair.com/ https://www.facebook.com/BobbyAdairAu...
