LET THERE BE LIGHT

They said we had enough light for another billion years. Yeah, what did they know? Science was finding all the answers, trust in science. 

But they didn’t know squat. They were blind, deaf and dumb, trying to make us believe they were enlightened.

That they had seen the light.

 How beautifully ironic.

 They spouted off a million theories, why the Sun was becoming red, why the heat was going, why the star that had seen us grow from protozoaic goo to arrogant bipeds was snuffing itself out. They had theories, not solutions. No throwing a billion bombs in that mastodont could restart a process that no one really understood ( as they finally began to admit sometime between the Shanghai riot and the Mexico-USA conflict). 

World leaders did what they do best. 

Gather the resources for themselves and say screw you to the rest.

 In the best interest of humanity, they started genetic lotteries, wanting to preserve as much diversity as possible in the underground mountain vaults they were building, in secret first, and then in plain sight, shooting every non-authorized personnel that had the folly of thinking they could slip in and survive.

 They would decide who would live and who would die, and strangely, the one percenters all had some vital genetic uniqueness that had to be preserved at all costs.

 Some argued the planet was doomed, that the only way to survive was to other stars, the grand exploration scheme, leaving this toxic wastehole behind. But only the best and brightest could be a part of that ( ah, scientists again, I guessed they had it all figured out after all).

 And the rest of us?

 Well, the temperature changed abruptly, the light transformed the plants, nothing was the same anymore. Those who couldn’t kid themselves anymore chose to end their misery before the final blow. The rest turned, unsurprisingly, to Higher Powers. Some to God, because God was always there, maybe we had strayed too far from the righteous path, and we needed, us sinners, to repent and beg for forgiveness. Then all would be good again.

 But most started following the next big trend - actually a blast from the past, but who was scrutinizing and analyzing sociology now?

 All the lucky eggheads had gone to heaven or buried themselves 5000 feet in the dirt, hoping for survival. Sealed doors, automatic defense systems, all those that tried to breach the Time Vaults ended up smoked and disintegrated.

 Survival was harsh, everyone turning on each other. And the Order of Ra was the literal ‘light’ at the end of the tunnel. The Order took power rapidly, the adepts believing in - oh that’s a hard one, what could they believe in if not human sacrifice?

 What else could make sense?

 They were fueled by a strange phenomenon that scientists ( them again!) could not explain. When the Sun had first started losing power, turning red, a whole generation of babies were born with a mark.

 Doctors called it an allergic reaction, but they couldn’t really explain it. Only those born during a 6 month period ( when the Sun started fading) had the mark, a sort of red disk, usually situated on the lower back or belly.

 It stood to reason ( somehow!) that these babies fostered the change in the life giving orb. They were responsible, they were the agents of darkness, and if they were to be eliminated, then… Light would return.

 Don’t get me wrong, I am no smarter than the average Joe, I would have given anything to be a devout believer and live out my remaining days chasing down and sacrificing those poor souls.

 My big problem is, I’m one of them.

 Today the temp is high, I can actually feel my fingers as I try to warm them over the meager fire we built. “We” a bedraggled bunch if there has ever been one. Some Streak kids ( the name we were given by doctors and trendy influencers, before all those institutions went to hell) and our numbers are dwindling so fast. We used to be 35, 40, now we are barely a dozen left.

 We weren’t all culled by the Order of Ra, but they did get the strongest of us. Why is this the norm, the strong protect the weak, why can’t we be ruthless like everyone else?

 It’s like we are truly carrying the sins of the planet and our forebears and we have to uphold a morality they never had. 

 Well, not me, I am the smartest of the lot. 

That also means the most pessimistic and realistic, and everyone tells me to shut up every two seconds when I start talking, because they don’t want to hear what I have to say.

 They’d rather wallow in illusion.

 The number of times Francis said to “Hold on, we will make it, “ to reassure the sniffles gang, well, that didn’t help him in the end, did it?

 I was the one standing up and saying we shouldn’t let them take him, that we should fight back and end it, and they said. “Shut up, “ and we ran off in the waning black and red sunset while he screamed.

 His screams still haunt my nightmares.

 I know I’m next, it is inevitable, we will all die one day. So let’s go out with a bang, show the Order goons the stuff we are made of.

 I guess we did show it though. Fear. We are made of fear and hope and we want to live one more minute, one more hour, one more day, no matter if the ending is unchangeable.

 I’m just as guilty as the next.

 My fingers are warm and my stomach grumbles, finally a real meal. We went for a forage and found some untouched reserves in a farm. The metal corrodes quickly these days, some atmospheric change the all-powerful scientists didn’t predict, and it’s hard to know where we are ( if those old names mean anything now that the planet will die a cold death) but I think we reached the outskirts of Topeka. 

 The old cities are deathtraps for our kind, so we stay away - in any case, the countryside usually hides the best food caches, farmers reverting to their primal nature… before getting killed by disease or marauders.

 We came after, when the damage was done. We reap the benefits of those deaths, we sleep in barns that still have some hay, or houses if we are lucky enough.

 But when will our luck end?

 The Order is always nipping at our heels.

 I look at my exhausted companions. Jessie is coughing, she won’t survive another month, it’s the water lung, luckily not contagious, or we would have ditched her a long time ago.

 I look at the dark skies, it must be 3 pm, in the high of summer. None of us have a handy thermometer, but I am thinking it’s minus 5, and the night will bring us to minus 20. 

“I saw some bison, “ Hiram arrives, out of breath, removing his gloves to warm his fingers faster. He all but plunges them in the coals, I see a tinge of blue on there, near the tips. He already lost half a pinky to frostbite.

 Cold-hardy animals survive the longest, following the old routes for their migration - now that humanity isn’t in the way, they have reconquered their old stomping ground… but without new growth, no amount of digging up the frozen blades will save them. 

 Wolves are another big problem for us - they have enough food in our pathetic species to last them a lifetime. Longer than I will live, anyway.

 They rampage through cities, devour survivors if they can, or corpses if they don’t find fresh meat.

 “We still have a few rounds, “I shrug. But Chris was the best shot, and we both know it.

 We don't move from the fire. We managed to pick up enough wood, we will be warm all night. None of us want to jeopardize their comfort.

 Alice wipes her nose and spits on the ground. Ladylike to her fingertips. “We should get them. That much meat could last us a month, “ she reminds us.

 The day has exhausted us all. Sometimes I think if I see a bridge somewhere, I might just leap off it.

Spare the Order the trouble. Just erase myself out of existence.

 I shudder thinking about it, I can envision the leap, it seems so satisfying not having to worry about tomorrow. But my mind makes me feel the bone snapping and my brain leaking out of my stupid head. No respite for the cowards.

 Carnivores will inherit the Earth for a short time, and then perish in infighting - proving we are much more like predators than we’d like to admit.

 “Yeah ok, “I say decisively. I don’t know what’s coming over me, I am one of the lousiest shots. Maybe the fire toasted my brain, maybe I am just tired of waiting for the end.

 “Let’s go on a hunt, “I add, wondering vaguely how Chris had done it, leading the group.

 We have got to be the most unlikely assembly of people alive on the planet. And none of us has the good soldier profile. We hate each other’s guts, that’s the truth.

 The bison are rummaging through the frozen ground and snow, looking for blades of grass to sustain their bulk one more day.

 From up close ( as much as we dare creep up on them), they don’t look so formidable. Malnourished, on the verge of exhaustion, their fur in pitiful clumps, falling off; I am reminded of myself and I hate that. I feel pity for the poor things, not the kind of pity that allows to kill and put out of the misery, the kind that paralyzes, because this is me I’m looking at.

 I think everyone feels the same, we can’t even point the rifles without trembling.

 Karma. In the frozen flesh. We are what we eat, we are hunted and in our enemies’ scope, and we will end up in their hands, because we are no smarter than those once majestic beasts.

 I feel a tear threatening to spill and I wipe my nose and the useless drop at the same time, hoping no one noticed.

 Even if they had, they didn’t have the time to snicker about it. Gunshots explode around us and it takes a good second for me to realize that the beasts are the targets.

 I shouldn’t be surprised, after all, we are not the only people surviving in this frigid wasteland.

 But I feel this wave of irrational - wait, too rational - fear. Not many people have stuck around these parts, most went down to Mexico, seeking the warmth of the Equator, anywhere that had a better chance of giving them a few years more.

 I glance at Alice - we are both cowering behind some old, half- wrecked brick wall, overlooking a field of snow and now carnage. We both know.

 The beasts are running and dying, they can’t escape the aim of the hunters.

 I feel it in my gut, the fear squirms in there. 

They found us. We only had a few days’ advance since their ceremony always lasts two days or more, and they had gotten Chris and Nate.

  Time to move off - stealthily. In my head there’s a litany I can’t stop - They’ll see us, they’ll see us. They know we’re here, they’re just biding their time to pounce.

 My heart’s beating so hard I can barely hear anything else, and the shuffling in the snow is made all the more difficult by the chronic weakness we’re all afflicted with, from lack of adequate food.

 I am the first to get back to our makeshift camp and Jessie is asleep in the blankets, next to the fire. 

 We have to go as quickly as possible, before they catch up with us.

 The others grab our things and throw them in our backpacks without ceremony. I catch their wild stares, they know it’s the end. They don’t even bother glancing at Jessie, they know it’s futile, she’s asleep so she’s already dead.

 Best thing is to leave her there, let the Order find her. And gain a few days more with her inevitable death.

 What’s wrong with me? Chivalry is dead, frostbitten out of the world.

 Why can’t I move my legs, why can’t I do the sane thing?

 “Come on! “ Alice hisses, ever the survivor.

But I can’t. I am crazy, I know that, but leaving her there seems too cruel. I’m no beacon of humanity and kindness, I’ve just had enough of leaving friends behind. 

 No more.

 Jessie opens her eyes wide when I grab her. I noticed the tears on her cheeks, she had been pretending to sleep to let us abandon her without a guilty conscience.

“We’re going, come on, “I say, trying hard to control the break in my voice.

 We are all going to die, sooner rather than later, but she won’t die alone in this misery.

 I help carry her because her legs are weak; we are far behind the others.

 She starts coughing and spits blood, she’s spiraling faster than I expected.

 “Leave me here, “ she says hoarsely when the fit has passed.

 “Not a chance, “I reply. I made my choice - what do I have to look forward to in any case?

 Somehow it’s easy to summon bravado in the face of uncertainty. I feel ready for death, for anything that will be thrown my way.

 Then we hear Alice and Dan screaming. The kind of screams that turn the knees to jelly - they were caught.

 Another voice joins the chorus - Lexie. Greg. Hiram. Sally, Hope, Brian. A gargle from Johnny. Jessie’s eyes are huge, the fear is coursing through our veins. Ambush? We were caught pants down, they were onto us from the start.

 All thoughts of bravado and death wish leave me as though I never had them in the first place. I want to live, I want to see another bleak, cold, boring day.

 I run, and Jessie manages to keep up for a few strides before stumbling. I leave her behind. I’m back to primal now, predator and prey, and I know I have one chance to escape what’s coming for me.

 I see the wall but not the predator lying in wait and the bat catches me midriff, forcefully knocking the breath out of me.

 I can’t completely pass out - too much adrenaline, I guess, and I am half-conscious as they drag me forward, joining the rest of my bedraggled band in what used to be a park. I think they truss us up on an old baseball field. I don’t know how they found so much wood, but they build a pyre under our feet.

 I pull on my binds, to no avail. My hands are tied over my head, and I’m already feeling fatigue in my arms. And cold. My heart’s hammering in my chest, but I’ve sweat so much running away I am now going into hypothermia or something. I’m lightheaded and nauseous, but that’s just the beginning of my troubles.

 They gather around us. Jessie’s half-dead already, the lucky one. The rest of us are paralyzed; they are all wearing some robes, they have hoods, red and black, like the sky, like our future.

Darkness and blood.

 They start chanting, a hum in the beginning, growing louder, until I can make out the words.

 “Let There Be Light, Let There Be Light, Let There Be Light, “ 

 Their ritual to purge the darkness away from the planet, and our sacrifice is key to it.

 After a few minutes, I can’t take it anymore, I can’t handle their glowing eyes - they are sure they’ve got us now, they will change things by getting rid of us.

 “It’s not our fault! “I scream, and my voice is barely above a whisper. “It’s not our fault, what did we do? We were born in this shit, man! Born in it! It’s not on us!”

 I know it’s futile, fanatics will never listen to the voice of reason.

 But one of them removes the hood and I get to stare at the eyes and face of a teenager, of all things. He’s frostbitten where the acne isn’t exploding on his face - he mustn’t be eating enough vitamins. Or maybe too many of them, sometimes 20 year old vitamin packets is all we can find.

 “You’re the last, “he says, almost enraptured. “Once you burn, the world will be free. And there will be LIGHT! “

 “You’re insane, nothing will happen, we will be dead, and it will stay just as cold, you delusional idiots, nothing else will happen! “

 He backhands me - no one likes hearing a good helping of truth.

 But it doesn’t stop them, why would they? They have it all figured out. Killing off a few hundred 20 year olds will set all the wrongs right.

 If my death could somehow bring the light back, if it could be true…

 I’d still say screw you, I am no one's sacrificial lamb. You got what you deserve.

 Or maybe I got what I deserve.

 The flames lick our feet and the heat is enough to drive me nuts. All my life I’ve been cold, freezing, and this is how I go?

 Do I see the light, shining back on the world? Do I see people emerging from their hideouts, basking in a warmth I never knew? Do I hear laughter , the whole planet breathing in relief?

 I’m delirious from the pain, my brain making me see things that aren’t there to spare my fragile body from the awful pain.

 My friends are all screaming around me, maybe I am myself, but all I feel like doing is laughing.

 Because, you know that light at the end of the tunnel?

It’s gone dim.