Answer The Call

Cot springs groaned as he rose from sleep. His dreams were always the same jagged pieced memories that left his body wracked with shakes and his ears pierced from ringing that would cause a headache later.

The concrete floor was cold against his feet as he sat up, pressing his elbows to his knees and running his hands through his hair. He wondered what she might think if she saw the grey streaks that had slowly peppered themselves through his brown locks.

He moved his hands from his hair and dragged them down his face, stopping at his jaw. The scruff was growing nicely now, which he was sure she would appreciate. She was always asking him to let it grow.

Pushing off the cot was more difficult than it should be. It's been weeks since he had proper exercise. The last hideout was overtaken by straggling drifters who would take nothing less than everything he had except the pack on his back. The small amount of equipment he had, a pull up bar and a few dumbbells', were left behind. He considered himself lucky that they gave him the option to walk away. Your choices in this world were to give up what you have or die. He wasn't a fan of the latter since he still had a mission to accomplish.

One would think that after societal down-fall, people would rise together instead of purging each other. Optimism was always her strong suit, not his. She always saw the good in people and was full of foolish optimism, which he used to consider an annoyance. It now became something he desperately longed for.

The room was dimly lit and cramped, with the only light coming from the overhead lamp on the worktable pushed against the wall across from him. The metal storage shelves along the opposite wall were nearly empty except for a few cans he luckily kept packed in his bag for travel.

Another supply run would be risky. Finding underground bunkers that weren't already taken or damaged beyond repair was hard enough. It took several days of nonstop travel to locate this one.

The last time he had the chance to make a run, most perishables he found scanned at a rate unsafe to touch. It seemed like the radiation levels kept rising. Touching anything outside was always a gamble, one he had to take to live long enough to find her.

He stalked across the room to the workbench and switched on the air purifier on the desk. It rattled a bit before the whirring started. He let out a long sigh. Finding a filter was the last thing he wanted to add to the list.

His navy green weather-worn pack on the desk was almost ready to fall apart. He couldn't bring himself to get rid of it. It was part of a matching set, a gift from her on his 30th birthday. He was so excited when she finally agreed to take the hiking trip he'd been begging her to go on.

"I figured we might as well get one good outdoor adventure in before our muscles and bones shit out on us. We're only gonna keep getting older ya know," she said that day. She was never a fan of the outdoors, but she was willing if it meant they could spend time together.

He unzipped the pack and pulled out a leather-bound journal. He skimmed through it for what could be the 100th time, he'd stopped counting long before then. The coordinates she had left in the book lead to nothing so far. Every time he arrived at the spots, any signs of life or whatever it was she was having him search for was gone. The explosions made sure of that.

There was something she knew, something she was trying to tell him. She became more paranoid and cryptic about her work within the weeks before everything came to a head. It wasn't like she talked about work much. There had always been a line drawn in the sand on what she was and wasn't allowed to share with him.

She kept telling him something was coming but couldn't tell him what. Fear began taking its place across her features. Her body became thin, her hair falling out in places, her nails constantly bitten down to the quick.

He should've pushed harder to get something out of her. Maybe if he knew what was coming ahead of time they could've made it to the first safe house together. But she was headstrong and when she was adamant about something there wasn't much convincing her otherwise.

Only six sets of coordinates were left. Six lines of hope. He pulled out the tape recorder and prayed that the batteries still had juice. The tape was still inside, he didn't dare to take it out. The day he traded a can of soup for the recorder was the luckiest day he'd had since the bombings. He wouldn't have traded had it not been a kid no more than 13 by the looks of him.

He pressed the button to rewind the tape and placed his palms on the table. The only solace he found was in the sound of her voice, distorted by the recording.

"I'm recording this message for anyone left behind as these may be my last words.

The city we once called home will soon be a radioactive wasteland with nothing left but ash. The voices of those who dreamed of standing against our destruction have been silenced.

The last of the bombs are being finished as I speak. I have to go to him before it's too late. It's the only thing left for me to do. If we are going to face the end, then we will face it together.

To whoever finds this message, do not waste your time envying the dead. As you stand on the black scorched stain of our history, taking in the dust of what was once the breath of humanity, let it sink into your bones and bring you strength.

There will always be war. Victory is what we perceive it to be. Where there is death, there is rebirth. Where there is destruction there will always be resurgence, and you are the one who holds the key to all hope. 

The air will once again be clean. We will reclaim and rebuild our home.

May you answer call, defy the odds, and never submit. And may the dreamer's reborn meet you as you head into the skyline.

To my love, I will see you soon...Forever and Always." 

As he packed away the notebook and recorder he took in a long breath and closed his eyes, taking a minute to envision her:

The freckles, moles, and scars on her skin and how they felt as he brushed his hands against them. The color of her hair and how it would flow behind her as she walked, or how it would slightly tangle when he ran his hands through it.

Her eyes and how they sparkled and became smaller as she smiled while her cheeks rose into perfectly round mounds on each side of her lips. Her lips...

He struggled to open his eyes as the image of her gradually disappeared. He released the breath he had been holding, slung his pack over his back, and switched off the lamp.

As he approached the door and placed his hand on the metal handle, he took one last pause to remember the last of her words.

 May you answer the call.

"Forever and Always." he replied as he opened the door. The light from the sun engulfed him. He imagined the warmth was her embrace.

They would find each other and answer it together.