Apocalyptic

           Once a land vibrant and full of life, Los Angeles was now a vast wasteland filled with death and destruction.

           It began in the year 2028; the city had been under siege as wars broke out worldwide in a desperate fight for world domination. Political leaders from Russia, South Africa, Pakistan, North Korea, India, the United Kingdom, and the United States of America were preparing for a nuclear assault.

           What started as a battle for control over the global resources like oil, natural gas, and even technology, had escalated into a greed-induced war which had no signs of relief or treaty in the future. After two years of cross-boundary conflicts, the inevitable happened.

           Threatened by utter defeat, the South African president was the first to order a nuclear strike against their attackers, Saudi Arabia who were fighting in alliance with the United States. The U.S. soon retaliated with a strike on South Africa from a fleet of nuclear submarines which sat in waiting off the coast in the South Atlantic Ocean.

           From that point on, it was a panic-driven assault globally. Before the sun had set over the California coast, seventy-five percent of all life on earth had been destroyed. Those fortunate enough to have survived, were either held up inside fallout shelters, or slowly rotting away outside in the ruins of civilization as we knew it.

           A small percentage of countries, and a few small islands, were unaffected directly by the attacks, but as word began to spread, survivors of the blasts set out in search of these locations for refuge.

           Back in the United States, I was one of the fortunate souls who had access to a nuclear fallout shelter. My family and I had to keep the location hidden from scavengers that prowled the barren city after the blast, so I helped my father hollow out a section of a large hill that backed onto our property.

           We lined the walls with twenty-four inches of concrete, which sat beneath ten feet of dirt. A ventilation system was installed which allowed us to filter the radiation-filled air outside. A storage room was filled with enough food and water to sustain eight people up to six months, and a solar-powered generator provided us with power, though sunlight was not something we had a lot of for the first few months. We needed to rely on a gas-powered generator at times when the solar panels could not collect enough of the solar rays.

           By the time the fifth month rolled around, we began to run short on our supplies and had to begin rationing more diligently. Our eight survivors had become nine when my sister delivered her baby boy in the third month. She was able to breastfeed the baby, but to keep up her own strength, my sister required additional sustenance. Her husband volunteered to cut back on his rations to allow for his wife to have more, but we were still running out sooner than expected. We would need to consider venturing out in search of food.

           It was five days shy of our sixth month when the last of the food disappeared. All that remained, were a few cases of bottled water. It was time to leave our refuge. My father and I, along with my uncle, volunteered to go.

           Using a periscope-like device that my father had installed near the hatch, he scanned the area for signs of human life, making sure their hideaway would not be discovered. When he gave us the “all-clear,” we covered ourselves with Hazmat suits and the self-contained breathing apparatus that came with it.

           The hatch was designed like that of a submarine hatch. A large metal wheel was attached to the underside of the hatch. It needed to be turned several revolutions counterclockwise to be released. The shelter was divided off with an additional steel door which was sealed tight as my father, uncle, and I prepared to leave. It would not be reopened until we returned.

           As my father pushed open the hatch, eddies of dust swirled down upon us. I wiped the dust from the mask and ascended the ladder. As I breached the opening, I was devastated by the sight of our once-beautiful home. The house was now a pile of broken wood, brick, and metal upon the ground, and all the plant life had been shrivelled away to nothing.

           As my uncle closed the hatch behind me, I stared in awe of my father’s ingenious design. He had disguised the hatch entrance with a faux boulder. At a distance, the seams were virtually invisible. I climbed to the top of the hill to get a better view of the destruction. A haze of dust covered the horizon, and there were no signs of life for as far as I could see.

           The creek that once lined our property, was now dried up and filled with mud cracks. We began by searching through the rubble of our house in search of anything that may have survived the blast. I found a few canned goods still intact, and my father unearthed a small safe that contained some of our personal documents. We lowered them down into the shelter, then continued with our quest.

           As we traveled east, my father tried to guide us using a compass, but the effects of the fallout had upset the magnetic pull on the earth, and the compass just continuously spun in random directions. Instead, we began to set up markers along the way to help us find our way back home.

           I used to know these roads like the back of my hand, and I could have found my way back easily, but there were few landmarks left to identify. We lived in Pacific Palisades, just on the outskirts of Topanga State Park, and I used to venture into the canyon trails every chance I got. It was my hope that there would still be water in some of the natural springs in the mountains.

           We headed up the Los Leones Canyon Trailhead. The signs identifying the trails had been destroyed, but the trails themselves still seemed to be accessible, so we began our climb. The hike was just over a mile, but the climb was treacherous at times, especially wearing the Hazmat suits. Some hills were gravel-covered and getting our footing was difficult at times. It took us nearly an hour to reach our plateau. At one time, I would be able to look over Pacific Palisades, Santa Monica, and on a clear day, I could see Catalina Island, but today, it was nothing but an orange-colored haze in all directions.

           Some vegetation still grew at this height. We had ascended approximately 550 feet from the beginning of the trail and the air was slightly clearer here. I led my father and uncle off the trail to a hidden location that I had discovered a few years earlier before all the craziness began. We ventured for ten minutes through the sparse brush and came across a pool of water that was fed by a trickle of spring water down the rocky cliff.

           Using water jugs that we had brought along, we filled up the bottles and prayed that the water was not contaminated. I stopped for a moment and took notice that there were no sounds around us. No birds singing in the trees or animals scurrying among the fallen leaves and broken branches. It was an eerie feeling that had rushed over me.

           We searched further along the remaining trees and bushes and found some wild berries growing thirty feet from the pond. We gathered all the berries that looked ripe then continued. After exhausting all our options, we began our descent to the beginning of the trailhead. It would soon be getting dark, or darker considering the sun was covered with haze, so we needed to hurry back.

           Eight hours or more had passed since we left the bunker, and we had still not seen a single person. I started to feel like we were the last people on earth. There were no televisions or internet to search for news, so we were oblivious to what was happening outside of our city.

           We made it back to the shelter and were greeted by hugs and kisses from everyone. They were so relieved to see us return safely, even if we were unable to provide much more food. We spent the next hour describing our journey and slowly ate half of the berries we had brought back. The next day, we would venture out again in a different direction.

           As we walked toward town, it was disturbing to see all the overturned vehicles that had been burnt to a crisp along the roadway. Some of the vehicles had the charred remains of families, likely trying to make their escape as the nuclear missiles impacted our State. Our objective was to reach the supermarket. We were hoping to locate more food to bring back with us. It was another challenging hike. We were forced to climb across jagged pieces of concrete with rebar sticking out like quills on a porcupine.

           When we reached the grocery store, we could see corpses buried beneath the rubble. Their skin was shriveled up and a greyish color. I tried to put it out of my mind as we tossed some of the large rocks aside and tried to dig out what lied beneath. As I removed one rock, I was met by a skeletal hand. Within its grasp, was a can of what appeared to be soup, though most of the label had been torn off. Reluctantly, I grabbed the can and placed inside the backpack that I carried.

           After one hour of searching, we headed back. We had managed to fill three backpacks and now had enough supplies for several weeks. It was a grand celebration when we returned with our spoils. We were certain that there was more food to discover, but we would return at another time for more.

           Several weeks had passed since we last exited the shelter, and since our supplies were beginning to diminish once again, we set out on another quest. This time as we raised the hatch, we were met with a blinding light. The sun burned brightly in the sky above, and I could see white, fluffy clouds floating amongst the blue backdrop. The haze had lifted over the city finally. My father climbed back down the hatch and soon returned with a Geiger counter. He measured the radiation levels and discovered that it had all but depleted. It would soon be safe for us to leave without our Hazmat suits.

           We hiked to the supermarket once again and were able to return with another three backpacks of food. On our way back, I spotted a bald eagle swirling gracefully among the clouds above. It was a magnificent sight. I was so happy to see the return of wildlife. We all stopped and gazed at the beautiful raptor until is flew out of sight.

           We waited another three weeks before evaluating the air for radiation. This time, it was gone completely, and my entire family left the shelter for the first time in nearly a year. I looked around at my loved ones and noticed for the first time the pallor of their complexion. We all looked like the living dead. My sister breathed in the fresh air as her husband raised their son high into the air. It reminded me of the scene in Disney’s, The Lion King when Simba was raised on the peak of Pride Rock.

           Over the next several weeks, we slowly climbed back up the trailhead into the mountains where we built a shelter near the pond. We began our new life at last, and in time, we saw other survivors wandering through the city below. A few even ventured into the mountains. We shared what provisions we had, before they continued their journey. One family followed our lead and built a shelter further down the hill from us, and we all became close friends.

           As the wildlife began to re-immerge, we would allow them to repopulate before using any of them as a source of food. Others were not as kind and hunted everything they could find. We built a shelter for some of the animals so they would not become endangered or extinct.

           In time, news from around the globe began to trickle in through travelers who were passing through. The wars had ended, and all nuclear weapons had been destroyed. The remaining world leaders agreed to world peace while their countries rebuild. It may not be a permanent solution, but I will enjoy it while it lasts.

           As I gathered berries off the bush, something happened that had not happened since before the apocalypse, it began to rain. Large droplets splashed off the leaves before me; just a few at first, but then they began to multiply. Soon, a heavy downpour began. I hurried back to our home and all my family had gathered outside. We danced like children beneath the blanket of water that now poured down. It was a sign of a rebirth for the earth. You don’t realize how much you take for granted until you are left without it.