Authors: Edwin Page
I woke filled
with pain and hoped it had more to do with my curled position in the footwell
than radiation poisoning. I groaned as I crawled out of the cramped space,
pulling myself up onto the passenger seat after moving the carryall and rifle
aside. There was a distinct chill in the air and condensation had gathered on
the windows. It felt more like late autumn than late spring.
I sat and rolled my head on my shoulders, hearing the tendons in my neck
crunching as I shivered. I yawned and stretched, tears forced from my eyes.
The memories of what had happened before nightfall suddenly flooded back
and my stomach tightened painfully. I bent over, my mind filled with the image
of Chrissie lying still in the hollow of the root bowl. I didn’t cry, but sat
doubled-up for long minutes, jaw clenched and chest constricted.
Straightening and breathing deeply, I looked to the woods on the right,
the image of the grave in the back of my mind. The clouds were still thick and
low overhead, the day dull once again.
I looked to the clock on the dash, it wasn’t even six as yet. Searching
through the carryall, I found a couple of cereal bars and forced them down
despite having no appetite. I had to fight the urge to vomit as I chewed with
slow distaste, my nose wrinkling in response to the smell of strawberries.
Finishing the second bar, I gagged, managing to keep the food down by
opening the window beside me and taking the fresh air deep into my lungs. There
was nothing left to do but leave and I hoped that driving would take my mind
off the sickness and pain I was feeling.
Sliding over into the driver’s seat, I leant forward and wiped away a
patch of moisture with the sleeve of my waterproof before starting the engine,
giving it a few extra revs. Turning on the fans and giving the windshield another
wipe, I put the stick shift into first and turned the pickup around, heading
back towards the interstate.
The day was so gloomy that I turned on the headlights. Seeing the tracks
where the vehicle had driven up the embankment to the left, I turned and
followed them back down, rejoining the 87.
The road was clear, the convoy having moved on, along with those who had
been encamped along the roadside. A couple of cars had been left behind,
standing silent upon the verges. The remnants of numerous campfires were in
evidence, along with food wrappers and other litter. My gaze briefly settled on
two rough crosses made of branches to the left, mounds of earth before them in
the shadows of the tree-line.
Turning away quickly and concentrating on the road ahead, I neared the
bridge before which the soldiers had been camped and saw a line of ropes hanging
down from the barrier. The pickup’s lights illuminated a gory scene below.
There was dried blood everywhere, along with the remains of people who looked
to have been torn apart by a pack of dogs.
I picked up my speed, wishing to be away from the horrific sight. The
sound of the engine echoed off the underside of the bridge as I passed beneath
and sped up the road.
By the time I neared the border crossing the fans had cleared most of the
condensation and provided me with some warmth, my shivering having subsided. I
stared out at the terrible sight before me, the pickup’s speed dropping as I
was reminded of what had happened two mornings previous. I saw the helicopters
passing over the rush of traffic heading north, firing upon the vehicles. I saw
Bob’s face and heard the gunshot. I felt the pistol in my hand and saw the
hijacker’s body twitching.
Bringing the pickup to a stop, I tried to push the images from my mind as
I looked out upon the devastation. Smoke still rose from some of the vehicles
that were scattered and wrecked on the road, the surface pockmarked with the
impacts of numerous missiles. I few of the cars rested upon the verges, the
occupants clearly having tried to turn around in order to flee.
There were countless bodies littering the highway. Some had severe burns
and others displayed various injuries. There were a few that had been torn
apart by gunfire, one man halved by the hail of bullets that must have rained
down from above, his guts trailing between his torso and legs as he rested near
the tailgate of a police patrol car that was riddled with holes.
I looked along either side of the convoy to see which way provided the
greatest chance of making it past to the crossing. Neither seemed particularly
promising.
Opting to go along the right flank, I slowly pulled onto the verge,
manoeuvring around two bodies whose heads had become noting more than stains on
the grass before them. A small flight of crows rose from a group of corpses
that came into view as I moved around a sedan, its tan paintwork blackened and
peeled by the flames that had consumed it, the charred remains of people still
resting in the front seats.
My progress through the carnage was painfully slow and terrible new
sights were revealed to me every inch of the way. There was a sense of the
unreal and I had trouble shaking the feeling that I’d somehow strayed onto some
apocalyptic film set. It was so hideous that it was almost impossible to
believe that something so appalling could be real despite all the evidence to
the contrary and everything that had already happened to me.
I neared the head of the ruined convoy and a wave of nausea washed
through me. Stamping my foot on the brake, I flung the door open and vomited
onto the grass, catching the smell of burning flesh from the twisted and
smouldering wreck of a school bus nearby.
Bile dripped from my lips as I gagged repeatedly, my gut heaving despite
there being nothing left to expel. My vision blurred by tears, I stared down at
the remnants of the breakfast bars I’d recently consumed, waiting for the
sickness to subside.
I sat up once the sensations had settled, leaving me with a vague
churning in my stomach and a feeling of dizziness. Looking out of the cab, I
scanned the crossing which was revealed beyond the front of the bus. It was a
scene of warlike destruction, the remains of two tanks resting at the centre.
I couldn’t imagine what had happened, couldn’t fathom why people would
fight when there was already so little left, so few. Surely this was the time
when what remained of humanity united in order to try and survive. If we
thought our species worth saving, then it was a time to help not kill each
other.
I shook my head as I stared at the lanes of wreckage, craters of
explosions and smashed booths. Maybe we weren’t worth saving. It was a dark
thought, but one which was a natural result of everything I’d witnessed since
leaving Burlington. It was also one that lingered as I shifted into first and began
to make my way through, moving over to the left-hand side, passing the bodies
of five soldiers that seemed to have been executed. I wondered if the execution
had happened before or after the battle, seeing no sign of any survivors as I
passed around the blackened shell of an SUV lying on its side.
Reaching the booths, I could see no way through. Most were in ruin and
many of the bollards still remained. I stared longingly at the empty lanes
beyond as I sat with the engine idling, knowing in truth that there was only
one option if I wanted to continue north.
I switched the engine off and silence gathered in the cab. Glancing at
myself in the mirror, I saw the smear of darkness about my eyes, the glimmer
within them dulled by the aches, the sickness and the feeling of weariness. I
could see death lying in the shadows of that look and quickly turned away.
Taking up the carryall, I took out the bottle of water and tablets,
taking the last three and washing them down with what remained of the still
mountain spring. I took deep breaths as my stomach threatened to eject them,
waiting until it had calmed once again before reclining, deciding to take some
rest before heading off on foot. Though I hadn’t been awake long, I was filled
with a deep lethargy and needed to rest before setting out, to regain my
strength ready for the trek north.
I woke on the
bed above the RV’s cab in a state of confusion. My head ached with such pain
that I couldn’t collect my thoughts.
I stumbled down the small ladder and pulled aside the curtain that hid
the front seats. Slumping into the passenger seat, I grabbed the kitbag and
fumbled around for the morphine, my hands shaking. Emptying out a handful of
the pills, I threw them into my mouth and made myself swallow them, forced them
down despite the urge to gag.
I sat there, bag on my lap and body filled with aches as I waited.
Staring out of the windshield, I found the landscape beyond flat, fields
stretching as far as I could see. The sky above seemed vast, clouds filling the
panoramic expanse with their sickly taint.
When the drugs had taken hold, crept through me and numbed the pain, I
finally got up and went to the blood-spattered seating at the back. I picked up
the pen waiting for me and stared at what I’d written the night before.
I’d found a notepad in the boy’s school bag when searching the interior.
There had been a couple of the kid’s sketches at the front which I’d ripped
out. This was to be my testament to my journey and to the glory of the Lord.
I’d leave it behind, my last act before joining God, before sitting by his
side. Though I could sense that there was no one left to read it, I felt that
it was important that my actions be recorded because of my status as the Chosen
One.
I’d found a couple of action figures in the bag and had placed one on the
table before me. It was cloaked in black and held a red lightsaber that looked
like a crusader’s sword of old, two small beams sticking out at the sides above
the handle. On the bottom of one of its feet it had the
Star Wars
logo,
and I presumed it was from one of the more recent films as I didn’t recognise
it. The main thing is, it reminded me of me.
I gathered my thoughts as I pulled back the curtains of the windows
surrounding the back of the RV and then began to write, detailing the events
leading up to this point. I took regular breaks when my mind refused to focus,
needing to curl up on the seating in order to find rest, taking pills when
waking and then starting writing again once they’d taken effect.
That’s how this last day on earth has been. This is how the last man
standing spent his time. The more I wrote, the more I became certain there was
no one else left. I could feel the truth of it. God told me so.
The hours passed in a blur of sleep and work. I was consumed by the task,
by the need to get this account written before the sickness overtook me and I
was unable to function.
Night fell, the night which now surrounds the RV. As its darkness drew in
I had to pause in the work in order to switch on the lights, and that’s when I
saw it.
The clouds had become ragged and for the first time since the day of the
bomb, I could see the sky beyond. In its deepening blueness rose the moon. It
was near its fullness and robed in red. It was God’s sign that this was indeed
the last night, that there was no one other than me. The end had come. As it
says in Revelation; “The sun turned black like sackcloth made of goat hair, the
whole moon turned blood red, and the stars in the sky fell to earth, as late
figs drop from a fig-tree when shaken by a strong wind.”
Now I am here and I am ready. I’ve reached the end of my testament to His
glory, His might, His grace, His wrath and His judgement.
There are only a few things left to write before I make my way onto the
roof with my gun. He calls for me now that my task is done. The rider upon the
pale horse must return.
The Lord provided me with one last piece of inspiration after I’d turned
on the lights. There was a chill in the air and so I turned on the wall-mounted
heater. As I looked at it I noted the gap behind and recalled some of the items
I’d seen when searching the cupboards in the kitchen area. Luke had stocked
them with food and other household goods and an idea of divine origin struck
me.
My body deserved a special send off as my soul took up its rightful place
at God’s side. I would give it more than the silence of the night. I would
create a funeral pyre that would blaze in the darkness, the last light of
humanity to burn brightly and then fade, finally extinguished in the cold
emptiness.
I’d gathered together the necessary ingredients to make a homemade
firebomb, suddenly filled with energy as the Lord’s inspiration lifted my spirits.
The packet was soon made and ready to be slipped behind the heater, where the
growing temperature would eventually cause it to explode in a ball of fire that
would consume the interior of the RV.
It’s sitting on the tabletop now, waiting for its time, for me to slip it
into the gap and make my way onto the roof. The gun rests beside it.
I’ll lay beneath the bloodied moon and its company of stars. I’ll bask in
the glory of God and there, on the rooftop, I’ll take the life of this body so
that I may be granted eternal life by His side. I will be exalted. I will be
radiant. I will be home.
Praise be to God, for all I have done has been in His name.
Praise be to God, for in my actions I have made His presence known.
Praise be to God, who awaits my coming in the Kingdom of Heaven.
Praise be to God. Amen.
I spent all day
either walking or resting. My pace was laboured and slowed to barely a crawl as
the painkillers wore off. I couldn’t tell whether my aches were due to the
events of the past few days or to radiation poisoning, though the nausea had subsided
and I hoped it had simply been a result of the horrific sights I’d seen at the
border.
As I wandered along the empty highway, my thoughts drifted. I saw no
evidence of another human being, only a few flocks of birds flying south as if
winter was coming. The wind carried a chill and I wrapped my arms about myself
as I staggered along by the verge or sat in the shelter of a tree and tried to
find some rest.
When dusk came I saw the moon rise. She was nearly full and had a reddish
hue, which I presumed was due to the radioactive dust that had been cast into
the atmosphere by the planet-wide detonations. There was something calming
about her presence as she climbed into the sky, peering between fingers of
cloud along with the brightest stars. I suppose it was a sense of continuity.
Though humanity may pass out of existence, the world would remain and the
universe would go on regardless. We were but a brief spark in the vastness.
I plodded through the darkness feeling increasingly alone. The wind had
died and an eerie hush had taken its place.
I stumbled and nearly fell to my knees as a faint light came into view on
the other side of the highway five hundred yards further north. I narrowed my
eyes, blinking away the dizziness and focussing on the illumination. I could
make out an RV parked by the side of the road and my pulse quickened. The fact
that the interior lights were on indicated that there were people inside and I approached
with quiet steps, eyes wide and pulse rising.
As I drew closer I saw the parade float parked in the darkness on the
northbound side of the highway ahead of me. I recognised it as belonging to the
preacher’s convoy and took the rifle from my shoulders, holding it at the ready
as I kept a wary eye on both vehicles, regularly scanning the verges for any
sign of movement.
I drew up to the tailgate of the float, peering along the bed and unable
to see any sign of anyone in the cab, the windshield and rear window both
broken. I turned to the RV and my gaze settled on a shadowy mound on the verge
beyond its bumper.
Clearing my vision, I saw that it was a small pile of bodies and
stiffened. My heart thumped with greater vigour as I stowed the carryall
beneath the rear of the float and moved along its side. I stepped up to look
inside the cab, finding it empty.
Turning, I stared at the RV. The curtains were drawn back and I could
make out some of the interior towards the rear, finding no evidence of
occupancy.
Feeling the tension in the back of my neck, I began to make my way over,
my body filled with aches as I gripped the rifle tightly. I drew up by its side
and moved along to the back, staring in at a seating area that was patterned
with sprays of dried blood.
I gulped as I remained at the window for a moment. There was no sound of
movement from within, my heartbeat the only disturbance in the silence.
The crack of a gunshot filled the night.
I jumped in shock, nearly dropping the gun and having to fight the urge
to run.
Taking deep breaths, I looked upward. The sound had seemed to come from
above and so I took a few steps away from the vehicle, staring at the roof, but
unable to see anything untoward.
Slowly and quietly making my way round to the ladder at the rear, I stood
for a moment and looked up. Taking the rifle in my right hand, I began to
climb, making as little noise as possible and feeling the strain in my calves
and thighs as I made the ascent.
My head drew level with the final rungs and I paused in order to ready
myself. I adjusted my hold on the gun, the butt under my arm as I prepared to
fire it at any threat that should suddenly arise.
I put my foot on the next rung and quickly rose to peer over the edge,
finding a figure lying in the middle of the roof.
‘Hello?’ I asked softly.
There was no response.
I hauled myself up and straightened, discovering that the man lying
before me was the preacher. His head rested nearest to me and I could see the
top glistening faintly, part of his skull missing and a spatter of congealing
blood on the white paintwork.
I moved to crouch beside him. His eyes were wide and lifeless, staring
heavenward as his right hand rested on his chest, a pistol clutched in his pale
fingers.
I sighed and shook my head, noting something held beside him in his other
hand. I plucked the playing card from his grasp and stared at it a moment,
unable to comprehend its meaning.
Tucking it inside his robes, I stood and carefully made my way back to
the ladder and descended to the highway. Glancing around, I staggered to the
open side door while keeping my gaze averted from the small pile of bodies
beyond the front bumper, entering with a groan of effort and closing the door
behind me.
Feeling worn out by the activity and the brief stress of the situation, I
moved along the aisle to the seating area, sitting heavily and wishing to sink
into a long and peaceful sleep. Resting back, I felt the warmth emanating from
a small heating unit on the wall to my left, savouring its soporific effect.
I yawned and blinked away tired tears as the stiffness in my neck
dissipated. Noting the action figure resting on the table before me, a thin
smile arose on my lips.
‘May the Force be with you,’ I stated, recognising one of the characters
from
The Force Awakens
and recalling being persuaded to accompany Bob to
see the newest movies at the theatre, finding myself enjoying them despite my
reservations.
My gaze moved to the writing pad lying before me, a pen placed beside it.
It was then that the idea struck me to write this account of what happened in
those last five days. Five days, that’s all it had taken for our species to all
but vanish, to descend back to barbarity and virtually annihilate itself.
I picked up the pad as my nostrils flared. There was an unpleasant odour
in the air and I glanced around the interior curiously.
‘Probably dust in the heater,’ I mumbled to myself as I glanced at it.
A strong and sudden intuition came upon me. From somewhere deep within
the feeling to flee welled up and consumed my mind, my pulse racing in
response.
With the pad in hand, I hastened from the seat, passing between the
kitchen units. Reaching the front end of the interior, I glanced back.
A ball of flame erupted in the seating area with a whoosh of ignition.
Leaping from the door, I landed painfully on my stomach. I covered my head as
heat seared at my back, a pall of fumes and fire bursting from the open door.
I remained lying upon the verge until the initial blast of flames had
subsided, feeling something pressing into my abdomen. Rising with a groan of
effort, I began to hobble away, my left ankle flaring with pain as I patted the
front of my coat with my free hand, feeling something in the sweatshirt pocket
beneath.
Reaching into it, I came to a standstill on the highway halfway between
the RV and parade float as my fingers closed around the object and my chest
tightened. Tears began to flow down my cheeks as I withdrew the Hershey bar I’d
found at the gas station and my face contorted with misery.
‘I forgot to give it to you.’ My words were thick with emotion as I fell
to my knees and wept.
‘I’m so sorry, Chrissie,’ I wailed between staggered breaths as I knelt
on the asphalt and was overcome by grief, the heartfelt apology made for my
failure to keep her alive and safe from harm.
One of the windows at the rear of the RV shattered and I flinched in
response, the sound forcing back my tears. I struggled to my feet and made my
way over to the parade float. Going to the rear, I retrieved the carryall and
then went to the driver’s door, climbing into the cab.
Slamming it shut, I blinked away the tears and looked out at the roaring
flames as they engulfed the RV with eager tongues, clouds of black smoke
lifting into the night sky. The image of the preacher lying on the roof came to
mind and it seemed to me like a funeral pyre.
I sat for a long while simply staring at the flames, an emptiness howling
within me as I continued to hold the Hershey bar. I was feeling weak and weary
as the cold began to penetrate and the last of the RV’s windows burst outwards
with the heat of the blaze.
Noticing the key in the ignition, I turned it, the dash lighting up but
the engine refusing to start and the fuel gauge on empty. I glanced at the
writing pad held on my lap and an idea came to me. I set it down and turned on
the interior light.
Opening the carryall beside me, I put the chocolate bar inside and searched
through the contents, finally finding a pen at the bottom of one of the side
pockets. I had decided to write my account of what had happened, determined
that Bob, Chrissie and Tyreese would not simply be forgotten. I wanted to leave
some evidence of our lives behind in the hope that there was someone left to
read it, that somehow our memory would live on.
Flicking to the first blank page, not knowing how much time I had left
and desperate to begin, I started to write this account. I spent the night in
feverish bouts of writing, taking brief rests when I became too tired to
continue.
Now dawn has come on the sixth day since the bombs dropped. It’s cold,
but the sun is shining on occasion, clouds casting their shadows over the
fields. The RV still smoulders on the far side of the highway despite a brief
downpour that passed over. A rainbow graced the sky as the rain fell and I
thought of Tyreese, the line “where troubles melt like lemon drops” coming to
mind.
If you have found this account and read my words, I hope your troubles
have not been as great as mine, that you have not suffered as I have. I hope
that humanity manages to survive and builds a better world the next time
around.
Though I will never hear your name or see your face, and though you are a
stranger, I regard you as a friend. So goodbye, my stranger, my friend. Exhaustion
overcomes me and I need to rest. May the future lead you to good fortune and,
as Bob might say, may the Force be with you.