From the Ashes

It always fascinates me, seeing the shades of grief and shock in the faces of everyone I meet. Always, it ranges from numbness to anguish and rage, sometimes even to hysteria. But, no matter how many other people I stumble across, their face reflects a completely unique expression, a whole new brand of suffering. 

I sometimes wonder what people see when they look at me. Surely not anger, or fear, or despair, as I have seen on so many. Perhaps just a blank face, with nothing behind it. They may wonder if I have no feelings at all. They would be right. 

Always, in the back of my mind is the thought that I should be feeling something, something more than the numbness which encompasses my entire being. Surely, I should be sobbing into the rubble of my old home, or yelling at the sky, begging some higher power for a way out, an answer. I should be like the many survivors who have given up completely, sitting or lying in the ruins, staring blankly ahead of them. 

Instead, I feel… fine. Surrounded by so much death, so much horror, nothing seems to get to me anymore. 

I wasn’t always like this. When the war started, I was as concerned as the rest of them. We would look at the destruction on our TV screens, watching the carnage in some far-away city, and shake our heads at the depths humans would go to to destroy each other. 

But our sympathies were somewhat skin-deep. The war, while sad, didn’t really touch our lives. It was just the latest war in a very long list spanning all of human history.It was something that was happening a long way away, to nameless, faceless people in our minds. It couldn’t affect us. 

Except, of course, it did. Our idle concern turned into acute terror very quickly as the bombs got closer and showed no sign of stopping. Then there was a unified feeling of urgency as politicians were lobbied, petitions signed and protests marched, trying to stop the destruction of our planet. 

It was fruitless. Power-hungry people, determined to out-do their power-hungry rivals weren’t prepared to listen, and so the bombs kept coming. It was interesting, really, how quickly everything fell apart. Civilisation, morals, went out of the window quicker than any of us had thought possible, once we realised that there was no one there to help us. Apparently, being a good person didn’t matter to the majority of the population when they were faced with imminent death. 

For a while, everything had been a constant flurry of panic. Screams and smoke were always in the air. Everywhere you went there were crowds of people trying to get to safety. The sounds of the dead and the dying were everywhere. I could never have imagined such a hell in my darkest nightmares.

Then the silence came, and it was almost as terrifying. The sounds of human civilization had completely gone. The usual hum of life had been replaced by a horrific, oppressive silence. Some people couldn’t handle it, the complete lack of… anything.

It has taken a huge amount of luck for me to survive this long. Luck, an iron will to survive, and a complete detachment from any emotions that would hinder my chances of survival. For some reason, as I now pick my way through the rubble of my old hometown, looking for food, shelter, anything that can help me survive another night, I don’t feel particularly lucky. 

Maneuvering carefully through a mound of bricks, I see a corner of red fabric poking out at the top of the pile. I reach for the fabric and yank it out- maybe I can use it as a blanket. A red flag with a blue cross stares back at me. I drop it immediately, retracting my hand like it’s been scalded. 

“Hey!” A shout comes from behind me.  I turn around, preparing for a fight if needed. Before our world was torn apart, a middle-aged man stumbling towards me with a knife in his hand and a crazed look in his eyes would have scared me witless. But nothing has the power to surprise me anymore. 

I put my hands up, showing him that I have no weapons, then back away slowly. He makes his way towards me, then snatches up the flag. He stares at it as I continue backing away. 

“How could you do this to us?” He suddenly shrieks at the top of his lungs. I am wondering what I could possibly have done, when I realise that he is looking up at the sky. Oh, right. 

I fight the urge to roll my eyes. I have seen so many people turn to a higher power, praying, begging, screaming, asking for an end to it all. I don’t know what they expect to happen. After all, it wasn’t an omnipotent God who had refused to listen to the scientist’s warnings. It wasn’t a divine being who had created, stored and detonated nuclear bombs. Our destruction was all our own doing. 

Idly, I wonder what an alien civilization would think of us if they landed on this spot of Earth, right now. The first thing they would see, their first idea of who we are- who we were- as a people, would be a man yelling at the sky and clutching a Confederate flag like it was his lifetime. I get a strange urge to laugh. 

My stomach rumbles, bringing me back to reality as I realise that I have more pressing matters to think about. I walk in the vague direction of the town centre, hoping that there will still be remnants of  the old supermarket. Then I could stay here for a good while, assuming that the place hasn’t been taken over by wild animals or rabid humans. 

On my way, I pass what are clearly the remains of a church. A chill goes down my back as unwanted memories rise to the surface. 

A girl with fiery red hair is smiling at me, her hand caressing my cheek. We are lying next to each other on the grass, basking in the sun. Her hand encases mine, warm and soft. She is wrapping me in a hug, tears streaming from her eyes- 

No. I push the memories far down, where they belong. I need to get my emotions in check, before the floodgates open and I completely break down. I begin the slow descent to the top of the hill that overlooks the town. If I get to a high vantage point, I will be able to see if it is safe to enter. It will give me something productive to do, anyway. 

It takes me over an hour. I am fairly fit from constantly being on the move, but I still feel my legs start to burn and my breathing become laboured. 

When I finally reach the top, I can’t help but admire the view. The day is drawing to a close, and the sun is beginning to set over what was once a quiet, picturesque town. 

“Emily?” I freeze. My body locks up, my thoughts turning sluggish, my heart racing. After everything I have survived, hearing that soft voice is the only thing that can bring me into this state. Apparently, something does have the power to surprise me. 

I whirl around, praying that the voice wasn’t just a cruel trick of the wind. A girl is standing in front of me, her face grimy and weather-worn, but just as beautiful as ever. Her red hair cascades down her back, tangled, messy and much longer than I have ever seen it. I have never seen anything so beautiful in my entire life. 

“Sara?”

The dam bursts. I run forward, sobbing, and throw my arms around her. The icy, numb feeling that has lodged itself in my heart melts away as she rests her head on my shoulder. 

“It’s you, it’s really you,” I gasp between sobs. She appears as shell-shocked as I am. After a length of time that could have been five seconds or five eternities, we pull apart. She reaches for my hand unhesitatingly and pulls me over to the peak of the hill where we sit side-by-side. 

We talk for a long time, sharing our stories, through tears of pain and joy. So much suffering. I am not talking about the apocalypse. No, our horror story began long before bombs started to rain down on us, thanks to this god-forsaken town. 

The memories that I have been holding back for months come flooding back to me. We had only been together for three weeks, three precious, incredible weeks, when we were caught. Two girls, caught kissing, up on a hill, watching the sunset. 

I was the lucky one. I got long lectures and angry looks from my parents. That was okay. I could live with that. Sara wasn’t so lucky. The last time we had seen each other, the heavy wooden church doors were being closed around her, shutting her away from the world. 

When the apocalypse started, it almost came as a relief. People stopped ‘praying for us’ and began to pray for themselves. None of this matters anymore. We are together, and everything is going to be just fine. 

I didn’t know that it was possible for one person to be so happy. I look across at the girl I love, taking in the fact that she’s really here, next to me, flesh and blood, and so much more. She looks back at me, squeezing my hand. Out of all the people in the world, God had chosen to spare my girlfriend. 

Suddenly, far in the distance, I see the beginnings of a fire start in the town centre. It spreads remarkably quickly, and soon an entire street is ablaze. There will be no chance of getting food from the supermarket, and the setting sun means that we will have to wait until tomorrow to find another food source. 

I couldn’t care less. I have the love of my life beside me. I see a smile grace her lips as the fire continues to spread. We are finally free of the burdens of our old lives. From the ashes of this world, we will rebuild a new life. A life without hatred or prejudice, where people are free to love and to be loved. An almost foreign feeling finds its way into my heart where before there was only ice. Hope. 

As the sun fades into the horizon, we sit back, our hands intertwined, and watch the world burn.