The Last Days

Okay, I was going to be a bit more committed to this thing, but i recently had TONS of homework, along with a Battle of the Books competition, an All-State band festival, and 2-hour band rehearsals after school. So no, I'm not busy at all (Sarcasm). ANYWAYS, I've thought of this great (I hope) story idea, see how you like it:
It's the year 2012, and the economic crisis has exceeded the Great Depression, nations are nuking each other, and global warming is gradually flooding coastal cities. Basically, it's the end of the world. In the mist of this crisis, a fourteen-year old kid, used to be real popular, straight A student ect, struggles to survive the ruins of Apocalyptic Chicago after loosing his friends, family, and basket ball team to a recent nuclear bombardment. Saved by making it just in time to a bomb shelter under the school, he steps into a world completely different than it was 48 hours earlier. Enjoy!

It was silent, like so silent you could hear one of the hundred people in the rooms shuffle their feet...or, if you had enough room to shuffle your feet in this cramped dungeon they called a bomb shelter. Luckily, Jake Edwards had heard the sirens on his way to basketball and managed to get underground, but he doubted that the rest of the team was going to make it to a shelter before...his thought was drowned out by the first bomb, a sound louder than any he had heard in his life. There was no ka-boom, just a sudden explosion loud enough to temporary deafen him and a sudden, blinding light that even reached his underground prison nearly a hundred feet below the ground floor of his school. He had hugged his knees, telling himself stupid jokes to keep his mind away from the thought of the millions of people who had been burned alive with that first detention. His mom and dad, Lucy..no, he would not cry, he would not show weakness! Biting his lip to muffle the sobs coming from within him, he endured hour after hour of torment, with only the moans of the other survivors to comfort him. Once, an older woman doubled over, probably dead from a heart attack, but he remained in his cramped position through the constant sounds of the bombs, of death. Eventually he would notice the emptiness in his stomach, the desert in the back of his throat, but he had neglected to carry any food with him, and he had already decided not to ask the throng around him for help. Finally, he had lost track of time, a man close to the exit had opened the steel hatch, and one by one they had emerged from their dungeon and into the world around them, a world that could only be defined as...hell.
It's a bit weak at the moment, and this first part only shows his memory of his time in the bomb shelter, so the writing style (unless you like this) is going to change back to more traditional past-tense third person. Hope you enjoyed my little glimpse into the end of the world!