A Red World

Why bother going on? I ask myself that question, every day. I imagine what those around me would say. My mother would say for family. My father would say it was his duty. My sister would say for love. My grandfather would laugh, and say it’s a damn sight better than dyin’. Can’t say I’m too sure anymore.

Ken glanced over the map spread out in front of him. Scratches and scribbles covered the worn paper, tracking his movements. He studied his path so far. He had cleared a decent portion of the inner streets, the only areas left to check the coastal streets. He glanced over at the three cans that sat on the table, reading their labels. One had a dilapidated label of a fruit manufacturer, a picture of the peach on the outside. The other was of some soup brand he didn’t recognize, the last having a dog on the front, its head missing as the top half of the label had peeled. Ken took a deep breath before he quickly gathered the cans, shoving them in his backpack next to a half-empty water bottle. He folded the map, placing it into his pocket as he slung his backpack over his shoulders.

He snagged his gas mask from the table before he made his way up the crumbling stone stairs, placing the mask over his head as he stopped in front of a steel door. Ken took a nervous swallow, pulling his pistol from his waistband, making sure a round was chambered before he pulled his hood over his head and pushed the steel door open. He took a filtered breath as he stepped out onto the street. Rubble littered the streets, cars rusted over and bent into unnatural shapes. The buildings fared no better. The ones remaining had chunks blown out of them, barely standing. The ground underneath him was cracked and in disrepair. His eyes tracked the giant roots that zig zagged across the crumbling streets. He warily moved his gaze upwards, taking in the view.

Buildings, cars and streets were flooded with plant life, from the lowest low to the tallest still intact building. But despite the vegetation, there was no green in sight. Bright reds crawled up the sides of buildings, wormed its way into mangled cars, curling around the cracked concrete. Flower heads, roses, tulips, asters, begonias and daisies reached toward the sky, their petals larger and longer than they had any right to be. Stems arced well over five feet, the largest rose sprouting from the remains of a skyscraper, extending far into the sky. Two foot tall grass, bushes lined the streets, curling around their environment. But that wasn’t the worst part. The plants, all of them, their blood red color, their enormous size, none of it compared to what Ken hated the most.

The plants, with no exception, were all wrinkled and leathery, every tip, every point, directed up at the sky. Ken watched them drift as the breeze blew by, making the world seem as though it were blazing in a static fire, in a perpetual state of hell. Ken took a step back as a particularly strong gust of wind hit the building above him, watching as a cloud of gold dust was blown from the plants.

Ken pulled the Geiger counter off his belt as the cloud scattered, flicking it on. Ken narrowed his eyes, watching the counter go off the charts, before he swung it down the street. He held his breath before started forward, glancing up at the sky overhead. Black clouds covered the sky, the sun piercing through in the tiny breaks between the clouds, a harsh orange just barely illuminating the environment around Ken. He finally took a breath as the Geiger started to calm, letting out a sigh of relief. 

Even with the mask, I still don’t want to risk breathing that crap, he thought as he navigated his way through forests of grass and flowers, climbing over roots and twisted metal, ancient glass crunching underneath his feet, altering course every so often as the Geiger counter spiked.

He continued on like this for some time before he stopped at an intersection, pulling the map out of his packet. He unfolded it, marking his path, before circling a building off to his left. Ken made his way inside, rummaging through drawers and cabinets. He systematically checked every nook and cranny, only finding emptied cans and overgrown plants. Finally, he pushed through a rather intact door, pausing as he stepped into the room.

It was an apartment, the wall fairly intact, the room cast in a dark hue, the only light coming in from the boarded-up window, giving the room a devilish feeling. Ken took several careful steps forward, hearing the floor creak underneath him. He pulled a flashlight off his belt, flicking it on, the light barely illuminating the darkness. Ken stepped further into the room, noticing a bed and a nightstand. He moved toward the nightstand, reaching to open it before his foot kicked something metallic. He turned the flashlight down.

A broken pistol frame lay on the ground next to something else Ken couldn’t make out. He used his foot to hook something under the bed, kicking it out into the light. He took an involuntary step back as a skeletal hand clattered into view. Ken tried to keep his breathing under control as he brought the flashlight up to the bed. Two skeletons lay in the bed, their bones charred and twisted. Ken took several deep breaths, trying to keep his cool as he stared at the scene. One skeleton had the side of his head broken apart, whereas the one next to him had its head completely shattered, with only the bottom half of the jaw remaining. Red grass wormed its way through both skeletons, flowers growing out of their ribs and cracked skulls.

Ken blinked several times, feeling his body convulsive involuntarily. He tried to steel himself as he turned toward the nightstand, before a glint caught his eye. Ken hesitantly turned back toward the bed, seeing black steel reflecting off his light. He shuddered as he stepped forward, trying to not look as he stepped up next to the bed, carefully reaching over the skeleton. His hand brushed against something solid, before he took grip of it, lifting it out of bed and quickly stepping back. He cast the flashlight up and down the frame of the double-barrel shotgun. Its metal was strangely well maintained, gleaming in the low light.

Ken put the shoulder of the gun under his arm, fiddling in the dark with the latch, before he opened the weapon, shining the light on the barrels. Two shells sat in each barrel. Ken took a breath as he pulled the first one out, seeing it still intact. He took a moment, before he pulled the other out, the top of the shell reaching outwards, having already been used. Ken’s breathing increased as he couldn’t stop himself, glancing at the skeletons, seeing puncture holes in the headboard above them, red grass billowing like a blast. Ken dropped the expended slug before he quickly shut the weapon, hugging it tight to his chest.

Living is a damn sight better than dying. Living is a damn sight better than dying, living is a- Ken repeated over and over again in his head. Ken’s breath caught in his throat as a shadow caught his eye. He slowly straightened, shouldering the weapon, crossing his arm under the barrel, raising the flashlight. The blue from the flashlight mixed with the orange of the outside, giving the room a strange brown color as he moved. He paused on a strange shadow. It was larger than it should have been, rounder than anything naturally should be. Ken didn’t breathe as he stared at it, his heart beating in his chest. He stood,unblinking, staring. Until suddenly, ever so slightly, the shadow moved.

Ken flew into action, sprinting across the room, hearing something scuttle after him, something not on two feet. He didn’t dare look back, slamming the door closed behind him as he dove into the hallway, slamming into the wall. He leveled the shotgun at the door. For a moment, nothing. Then, quietly, a scratch at the door. Then another, and another, Until it sounded like something with a thousand hands scratched at the door, Ken frozen in fear, shotgun pointed at the door, but unable to pull the trigger. Unholy moans started to emanate from the door, Ken shaking his head, trying to cover his ears. It got louder and louder until a blood-curdling scream vibrated the door, forcing Ken into action. He bolted down the hallway before he exploded onto the street.

He sprinted through the tall grass and flowers, the Geiger counter going crazy on his belt. He finally stopped in a clearing, taking heavy and labored breaths.

What the hell? What the hell? What was- Ken’s thoughts stopped. He glanced up at the grass surrounding him. He had no idea where he was. None of the buildings looked familiar, and the grass seemed even taller than it already was, towering over him. He slowly spun around, feeling as though everything was leaning in towards him. No longer was the fire pointing up at the orange sky. It felt as though everything was pointing at him. Ken swore he could hear something screaming at him, a warning, beeping frequently, but his mind felt clouded. Then he heard it. A rustling. He spun towards it, staring at the grass, bringing the shotgun to bear. But nothing. Suddenly he heard it behind him, but when he turned to face it, nothing. Ken took slow and careful steps, swinging wildly at each rustle, each twitch, following the cracked and ragged path as the plants bowed toward him. Greater and with more ferocity the rustling around him grew.

Where are you? Where are you? Ken muttered in his head, swinging the gun around wildly. “WHERE ARE YOU!?!” he screamed, before he took off sprinting, dodging through ever taller growing grass, blotting out the orange sky overhead. He could feel his mind fading, the sound around him draining, not even his footsteps, the backpack as it slammed against him, or even his heavy breaths. All he could hear was the rustling of the plants, a feeling overwhelming him that something was just behind him. Something just out of sight, something just out of reach, yet always on his heels. Even his vision began to blur into a red mess, tiny specs of gold floating across his vision.

No, no, no, Ken begged in his head, each step feeling heavier, each breath more difficult from the last, each blink sinking the world deeper into nonsense. He could no longer tell where he was going, his sense of touch evaporated, feeling as though every blink may be his last. Until suddenly, he felt his foot sink deep into something, sending him tumbling forward. He lay there, slowly blinking, knowing he had stopped moving, not caring. He continued to breathe, deep and labored, before he realized he could hear his heartbeat. He curled his hand, feeling the cool metal of the gun against him. He slowly pushed himself upwards, his vision returned to him, seeing the cool yellow underneath him. He sat on his knees, glancing around him. The city lay behind him, miles of  beach extended, curving on the outskirts of the city. He glanced down, realizing that there were no plants. The sea lapped in front of him, Ken taking a deep sigh of relief, the world returned.

Returned, to its sorry condition, to the fiery abyss, he thought, staring out over the ocean. Black waves pushed up onto shore, Ken raising his gaze into the distance. There, sitting in the middle of the ocean, sat an enormous tree. It stretched high into the sky, its branches well above the clouds. A few dipped below the churning black, massive leaves hanging down, each one glowing like a dim sun. 

“What do you want from us?” Ken asked the tree. “What? Why? It’s been so long, what more could you want? What more could you want you sunofa-” He was interrupted as something caught in his throat. Ken ripped the mask off his face, retching as something welled up from his empty stomach. He stared down in horror as brown and yellow leaves fluttered down into the sand.

Then he finally heard it, the screeching of the Geiger. He snatched it from his belt, holding it up to himself. His eyes widened in panic as it spiked immediately, its dial unable to push anymore into the red. He tossed it aside, slinging his backpack off, ripping open the front pouch. Two pouches of fluorescent gold liquid and a syringe sat inside. Ken grabbed the syringe, filling it with the liquid, raising the needle to his neck.

But then he paused. He stared out, on his knees, at the giant tree in the distance. He glanced up at the churning black clouds, knowing that its branches extended across the sky, stretching far up into space.

It’s a damn sight better than dying, Ken thought half-heartedly. He glanced back at the city, casting his gaze over the sea of red that reached up toward the sky. Why go on? He thought, before he coughed, seeing red petals now mixed in with the brown and yellow. Why go on? He asked once again. Ken slowly let the needle drop from his hand, leaning back on his knees, staring out over the ocean.

No more scavenging, no more surviving, no more breathing, just to keep on living, Ken thought. My terms. That’s all that matters, he thought as he picked up the shotgun, letting out an accepting exhale. Suddenly, a rustling caught his attention. He turned around, watching as the grass listed and moved, clear as day. He stood, watching as the rustling got closer and closer, but he did not raise his gun.

Then, something unexpected happened. A paw stepped out from between the grass, then a head, body, before a full dog pushed its way between the stalks. Ken took an involuntary step back as he stared at it. The dog was shivering, its fur in patches, its stomach sunken and shriveled. It had one milky eye, the other, well, there was no other eye. Blood red glass grew from its socket. Ken grimaced as he saw more grass growing from the right side of its body, curling up around it, moving in and out of its dry and tattered skin. Ken could see the fear in the animal's eye as it took another shaky step forward, red petals falling off it. 

Ken tightened his grip around his gun, before he reached into his backpack, pulling out the dog food. The dog stopped, watching Ken as he carved it open. He took a careful step toward it.

“Hey, bud,” Ken said. “You look like hell.” He crouched as he put the food down. He could see it sniff, the grass twitching as it took a step forward. “Can I ask you?” Ken questioned as the dog took another step forward. “Why do you do it? Why go on?”

Ken watched as the dog took a careful sniff, before it took a small bite and swallowed, the grass extending up from its throat. It took another bite, and another, Ken watching the animal continue to eat. He carefully reached out, before patting the dog’s head. It stiffened for a moment, before it relaxed.

Ken closed his eyes, trying to hold back tears as he gently pet the dog. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, gripping his shotgun tight. “I’m so sorry.” He slowly lifted away, the dog continuing to eat as he raised the barrels. 

“This isn’t better,” he choked out, before he pulled the trigger.

Red petals rained down around Ken, the dog’s body still now, flowers growing on the inside of it. Ken took a shaky breath as he opened the gun, pulling out the expended shell, tossing it on the ground. He stared at the dog, sadness overwhelming him for a moment, before something else took over. Anger, fury beat in his heart as he stared down at the dog’s body. He felt warm tears start to flood down his face as he stared at it, its body almost unrecognizable now.

He turned, staring up at the tree. It loomed over him, Ken feeling as though it were taunting him. His breathing became heavier as rage overtook him, before he coughed, raising his hand as red petals landed on it. He took one last determined breath, before he snatched up the syringe, staring up at the tree as he plunged it into his neck, injecting himself. He doubled over in pain, letting out a coughing fit as his face burned, red petals floating to the ground beneath him, until slowly, instead of petals, it turned into more and more liquid, until he let out one final retch, blood splattered on top of the pile of petals. He slowly raised himself up, wiping his mouth, staring up at the tree in defiance.

Why go on? Ken thought as he picked up his mask, shoving it in place over his head. Because if I don’t, no one else will. That damn tree came here to kill us. He glanced up at the enormous tree, staring at its orange petals, seeing a gold dust blowing off of it. And each day I’m alive, every step I take, every breath that fills my lungs, is another act that defies your will. You want to wipe the world of us. Ken took a deep breath, staring up at the tree. And I won’t let you. Ken glanced over at the dog one last time, before he shouldered his backpack and gun, marching forward in defiance of the world.