Snow

Ciara 

I reach my hand to my necklace. The two familiar split lines on the silver hemisphere meet my fingertips, greeting them with a rigid hello. I stare out my pale window with a heavy heart. I look upon what I’ve always seen. Nothing but a quilt of snow reaching out for miles and miles. Like Mother Nature coddling the Earth, saying everything is going to be okay. But it’s not. I am the only one left. A 17 year-old girl. Left to fend for herself. 

It’s been 1,095 days since the explosion. The explosion that only I survived. 

I move my attention back inside my house. The light from the hot fire radiates off of the brick walls. As I stand in front of the burning logs, my shadow slips onto the walls, cowering over me. I stare into the dancing flames. Fire has always been mesmerizing to me. How the bright flames rise up, giving a dark space meaning and purpose. The satisfying crackles of the ignited timber. I used to stare at it with hope and exhilaration, hypnotised by the magic that it was. My dad once said that we are captured by its dazzling flare because we once needed it to survive. Over time it had been a helpful element so we saw it as a symbol of surviving. Starting a colony that taught its people to protect each other, take care of each other, and die for one another. 

But that all ended on the Conteri, the day of the break. One into two. All over a stupid piece of land. Everyone would still be alive if the sun hadn’t made itself visible on that day. 

My dad was a scientist in the Sinistram tribe, making him very valuable. We didn’t have very many engineers, scientists or even doctors. The Iustum tribe took them all. We were left with the agriculturists and the tree huggers. As you can imagine our way of survival depended purely on the Earth. Water, food and even medicine. Luckily we had enough doctors on our side to keep everyone healthy. Almost everyone healthy. My mom was the reason it’s almost everyone. 

My mom was captured by the Iustrum for their experiments. She was in the wrong place at the wrong time. After about 3 weeks she came back, soaked in her own blood. I still remember watching her stumble onto camp, muttering ‘help help’. There wasn’t enough time, the doctors said. We don’t have the tools to help her, the doctors said. No, she didn’t die, at least not then, she lived with those wounds for the rest of her days. 

A week later we found out that the ‘experiments’ that Iustrum needed my mom for, were nuclear signals. Punch in coordinates on the machine and boom, everyone within 5 miles is fried. My people had never seen anything like that, or they didn’t see anything because it was too late. They couldn’t even think before they were burnt to a crisp. While everyone I ever knew was dying, I was out here--my grandfather's house, calling out for him, waiting to give him a package. I never found my grandfather. My mom sent me at the crack of dawn. There was only one explanation as to why she did that: she knew what was coming. She knew. Why didn’t she say anything, or tell anyone? For three years I’ve been trying to figure out why, why she didn’t say anything. She was the key to saving everyone, she knew that. But clearly, something, or someone, was stopping her. 

Lost in the fire, I snap back to the present and turn my face away from the pit, exposing my right side to the cold. It was getting dark. Dinner time. I pull on my heavy fur coat, grunting as its familiar weight absorbs me for the 730th time. I check my right pocket for the worn leather handle of my steel knife and prepare for the sharp icy wind. 

Kalen

The concrete feels like ice against my broad bare back. I feel the heat start to coil around me like snakes, warming my frigid body. The dark grey walls of the sauna encircle me, trapping my body in a grey cube. 5 minutes every day, or at least that’s what they told me to do to ensure that my body doesn't freeze. 

It does that sometimes, or did that. It’s been three years since my last body freeze. It’s been three years since the detonation. No, don’t think about it. I won’t let the pain in. 

A timer beeps and the heavy doors slowly slide open. I stand up, but don’t move. With sweat rolling off my chest, I stare into the blank grey hallway, lit with ugly fluorescent lights along the top. My home has been this large pod for the last three years. It’s like living in a tube. I don’t know how I got here. Someone must’ve sedated me and brought me here. They saved me. But why? 

I once found my old home. It was completely destroyed, burnt to a crisp. I had no idea what happened. Whoever brought me here knew about what was going to happen. An 18 year-old boy, left all alone. Left, with no one. 

I slowly make my way down the cold silent hallway. My bare footsteps echo with every step. I’ve gotten used to the silence. The solidarity of being alone. Being the only one left.  

I ran out of food a year ago. I’ve been hunting ever since. It’s dangerous, but it’s the only way to survive now. Clearly the person who brought me here, those three years ago, didn’t think I would last as longer than 2 years. I stop at the small round window and pear out. I see half of my reflection. The half with the long scar to symbolise Iustrum. It was getting dark, time to go outside. 

I take a right at the dented corner and walk through the doorway of my room. I wrap my heavy silicone jacket around my torso and pull on heavy black leather pants. I quickly glance at the gun leaning up against my bed. Then at the long spear on the wall. It’s an easy decision. Or at least it should be. If I take the gun, I have one shot. The piercing sound of a shotgun would scare any animal within a mile. And my aim with a spear isn’t exactly amazing. Tonight I would rather not be deafened by the shotgun. I grab the spear, and prepare myself. ‘The only way I can survive’, I think over and over again. I pull the lever at the end of the hallway and a gust of rough cold wind rushes into my pod. ‘Here we go again’. 

Ciara 

There are barely any animals out this evening. I’ve only seen about two birds, but they flew by too fast for me to aim. I’ve got out extra far tonight, in hope that I would see an animal but the snow crunching under my boots and my heavy breathing are the only two things that I hear. Normally I would hear a rustling of a bush or tree nearby, but tonight it’s extra quiet. Until I hear the scream. 

Kalen

It takes me about 5 minutes to hear an animal. I am in the middle of the clearing, about 200 feet from my pod. Tall dark green trees and small hedges surround me. But I hear something. I slowly turn to my right, my spear at the ready. I am alerted. Cautious. The leaves in a bush up ahead move. I slowly raise my left foot out of the snow and bring it forward, trying to make as little noise as possible. I steady my breathing, the cloud of white coming slower. Now, I take my right foot and try to bring it forward. But apparently I was making too much noise. The animal jumps out from behind the bush and races towards me. I can now see that the animal is black and brown spotted. A snow leopard. Shoot. What do I do. I can’t just stand here. My first instinct is to run. I turn on my heel and trudge about 4 feet before I realise I’m too slow. Large paws push on my back, forcing me to fall to the ground. I lay in the snow squirming, trying to get back up. But the leopard on top is stronger than I am. I know it’s silly, because I am the only one left, but I scream. As loud as I possibly can. A little bit of me thinking something, or someone heard it. Then, for the first time in three years, my body freezes and all I see is black. 

Ciara 

My head snaps to the direction of the piercing scream. It can’t be. I’m the only one. I run towards the sound and find myself crouching behind a bush staring in awe at the large body lying in the middle of a clearing. I cautiously stand up and walk towards the body. As I come closer I see a jacket, but not a fur one. An actual jacket, created out of a man made material. The pants are definitely artificial too. It’s a boy. With short ruffled blonde hair. I check his pulse to make sure he’s alive. The pulsing veins in his neck confirm that he is indeed breathing. I turn him over on his back and gasp. The Iustrum scar runs down the left side of his face. His people must’ve saved him too. There is only one thing to do. 

Kalen

I wake up to the sound of crackling fire and a cold rag touching my face. I open my eyes to see a girl crouching next to me. Her eyebrow ring glistens in the golden light from the fire. She's Sinistram.

“You’re awake.” She says lifting the rag from my forehead and standing up. “I’m Ciara. You’re Iustrum, right? I thought I was the only one.” She sticks her hand out, “Nice to meet you.”