The End, The Beginning

   BREAKING NEWS!!

   Good evening everyone. We are devastated to report that the collapse of the ecosystem… Has begun. Animal population has dropped by half overnight and plant life has begun to dry up all over the world. Environmental specialist Dr. Maria Sanchez is here to answer any questions you may have as long as we are still on air. She has stated that we must, “Not panic. Stay calm. Humanity will still thrive for thousands of years before we risk extinction. This is not the end.” 

   This is not… The end.     

---

   I found the tapes for the first time when I was six years old. Before the massacre. Before the migration. Before the power went out. Before the end. 

   My young brain was mesmerized by the footage. Everything was so… Colorful, a stark contrast to the miles of dead blades of grass that surrounded our sleepy New York town. I’d sit there and watch them for hours. The last seven news reports on Channel 8. The last seven weeks of the world, forever embodied on the film. 

   The tapes were hidden among the other VHS on my grandfather’s shelf, relics long before the end. Mementoes of a time when he’d worked as a cameraman on the news crew. I never told him I’d seen them. He wouldn’t have liked it. He’d have scrunched his nose, wrinkles deepening, and told me to go play, so as not to bother myself with such grim things. Then, I'd sneak off to run among the corpses of the trees, the tall protectors now reduced to limbs devoid of their lively hue. Reminders of a past that could no longer be returned.

   When I was six years old I wondered for the first time why grandfather never went outside anymore. Was it the sight of the past, or fear of the future? Too grim thoughts for a six year old, I knew, but I kept watching the news recordings anyway. 

---

   BREAKING NEWS!!

   Disaster has struck out in a small New York town. At a synthetic food dispensary, five mysterious persons opened fire during the monthly ration distribution. The massacre leaves thirty wounded and twenty-seven dead. Among those killed is our very own Maria Sanchez, who worked the dispensary with her son. He leaves behind a wife and newborn daughter in upstate New York. The group is still at large.  

---

   I was thirteen when I started to put the pieces together, one after another slipping into place. As I walked past the food dispensary, I noticed all of the holes dotting the front wall and felt them in my heart. 

   One piece.

   Then I heard all of the warnings I was given when I left the house echoing back to me beyond time and space. “Don’t linger too long,” and only “leave home with a purpose” and "don't leave your knife." All of the rumors of bandits who made the rounds once or twice a season rushing back like a dam breaking.

   Two pieces.

   My head whipped back and forth, suddenly aware of how quiet it was. A shiver jumped up my spine, scattering goosebumps like the bullets in the dispensary. A breeze whooshed across the road, carrying the corpses of grass blades soaring. My feet began to fly on the cracked, unkempt concrete, eyes glued to the distance. 

   As I sped towards home, the third piece clicked into place. 

   Maria Sanchez and I had the same last name.  

---           

   BREAKING NEWS!!

   Digging begins on an underground sanctuary for humanity. Thousands are already migrating to the site in Independence, Missouri in order to claim an underground plot of land for their own. Some of the migrators will even be digging on their purchased site, speeding along the process. The project aims to be finished within the next 1000 years, with whole communities and farms all underground to house the nation.    

---

   Mom and Grandfather were always at odds with each other. Grandfather would say the only thing they ever agreed on was my safety. The argument that time was different. The heat fizzling off hateful words reached me even in the basement, burning my ears. Curiosity tugged at me, but I simply clicked up the volume on the old television set, listening to the newswoman, who’s voice had become as familiar as my mother’s over the years. As it finished up, a loud slam burst through the house, branching out across the house. 

   I wandered outside, my bare feet pricked at like I was stepping on sewing pins. Mom was out by the “guard tree,” as we called it. The only tree in our backward left standing to guard us from the outside world, though it did little good without its friends. Her chocolate brown hair glistened with silver streaks as a breeze guided it towards the sunlight. In some way, I envied her. Her beauty. Her fiery spirit. All things I didn’t have. 

   She stretched her arms out to her side and leaned onto her right foot, eyes fixed somewhere in the distance. Yoga. One of the ways her mother taught her to tame her hot headed nature. A way that she then taught me, though I had always been docile.  

   “Evie,” she cooed as I positioned myself next to her. A smile tugged at her lips, noticeably weaker than her usual cheeky grin. “Do you like it here?”

   “It’s okay,” I shrugged, almost losing my balance as a result. 

   “I always kind of hated it,” she wrinkled her nose. “Too isolated. No progression. It's like everyone’s trapped in time.” 

   “Yeah?” 

   “Yeah.” 

   “Why didn’t you leave?” It was immediately clear that my question was a mistake. Her whole demeanor changed, rage sizzling beneath the surface. She took a breath and switcher her weight to her left foot. 

   We continued to pose in silence, nothing but air between us. 

   The next day was my sixteenth birthday, and it was the first birthday I spent without my mother.   

---

   BREAKING NEWS!!

   Power outages are becoming more frequent, especially in smaller towns, as extra is sent to the bigger cities. A vote is now being held as to whether power in these small towns should be turned off in order to fuel the big cities, as well as the synthetic food factories they house. Some say that turning the power off completely is too harsh, and offer a compromise. The compromise suggests that once a week the small towns will turn off their power in order to aid cities like New York, who are struggling to keep machines running in factories. Many have said that they would agree to the compromise, and petitions are being sent out across the nation.

---    

    I lay there in the darkness, spots dotting my vision, eyes confused by the pitch black surroundings. Grandfather’s gentle breathing from the bed next to me was the only sound in the house. I rolled on my side, an upturned nail from the aging wooden floor poked at my arm, luckily unable to penetrate through the blanket cocoon I’d snuggled into. 

   Blackouts in winter were the worst. A shudder ran through me despite wearing two of my thickest sweaters. 

   “Evie, is that you?” Grandfather croaked, voice hoarse from sleep. 

   “Yeah,” I peeped, embarrassment bringing a not unwelcome warmth into my cheeks. It was rare for me to get caught sneaking to the safety of my grandfather’s bedside anymore. I had grown experienced enough to avoid detection, creeping through the house like a spy. Grandfather chuckled, a jolly sound that made me smile. I couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed.  

   “Were you scared in the blackout?” 

   “I could have gone without the mocking tone but yes I am ‘scared in the blackout.’” 

   “Just like when you were little,” he teased. 

   I rolled over, muttering a cold “Goodnight.” Moments later, when he probably thought I’d fallen asleep, I heard his chuckles turn to sobs.   

---

   BREAKING NEWS!!

   Scientists are reporting a sharp decline in population. They encourage us that it’s nothing to worry about and is likely due to difficulty in obtaining the information and that the elderly are having a hard time adjusting. We have been reassured that once the initial shock is over, the population will slowly return to normal.  

---

    My heart dropped when I looked out the window. A halo of onlookers that seemed to consist of the entire town were cheering for a group of five people, each carrying large bags on their backs. Without hesitation, I dashed to the door and over to the group, pushing my way through bodies until I reached the one I was looking for. He pretended not to see me coming, continuing to wave at the adoring crowd. 

   I tugged on Ethan’s shoulder, forcing him to face me. His eyes met mine then quickly jumped away. 

   “What are you doing?!” I shouted over the hoots and hollers. 

   “We’re all eighteen now, E!” he responded. “We’re not kids anymore! We can leave!” The rest of the group we all watching us out of the corner of their eyes, continuing to smile as not to alert their fans. 

   “But what about-!” 

   “I know,” he cuts me off, his volume lowering so that only I could hear. “But look around. There’s nothing here, and with the blackouts and the government skipping food deliveries.” He shook his head, his expression drooping. “It’s time.” 

   My heart sank into the very pit of my stomach, acid eroding it into nothing. I couldn’t cry. I couldn’t scream and tell him how much it hurt me that he was leaving. No. I didn’t say anything. I just watched as he and the last of the other kids in town headed off into the sunrise, surrounded by people but completely alone. 

---

   BREAKING NEWS!!

   We have just received word that elderly are now being turned away at the Independence dig site, supposedly being “too frail” to contribute. The Independence Company only had this to say, “We need strong people to build a strong system. This new world is harsher than they realize, and everyone will soon be thanking us for the bright future we build as a community.” If you are of retirement age or suffer from a crippling disease, a petition is being signed to force the statement to be retracted. 

---

   Once again, I lay at Grandfather’s bedside. The morning sun highlighted dust particles in the air. I stretched, muscles pulling from their stiff sleep positions. The wood floor squealed with protest as I stood. My hand reached out to the bedside lamp and flipped the switch. 

   Nothing.

   The power hadn’t been on in almost a month, but a flicker of hope was there every time I checked. I peered over at the bed, surprised to find it empty. Grandfather was never up first. 

   I drifted through the house, searching for Grandfather, but to no avail. Panic began to brew within me as I checked every room twice. It seemed impossible, but I slid open the back door, the one that led out to the guard tree. A figure sat slouched against the trunk, its features becoming increasingly recognizable as I made a cautious approach.  

   I let out a sigh of relief as I slinked down next to Grandfather. His chest heaved, slowly rising up and down as he gazed out at the horizon. A gentle breeze blew his thin white hair around like red seeded dandelions drifting into the air. 

   “I haven’t been outside since my last day of work.” Grandfather sighed. “That had to have been… Seventeen years ago.” He breathed in deep. In through the nose, out through the mouth. We sat in silence, absorbing generous portions of what was left.

   “I’m dying, Evie.”

   “Don’t say that.”

   “But it’s true,” he said with a bluntness I’d never heard from him before. “You’re going to have to face some things soon. The world’s changing and you’ll have to change too.” 

   “I’m scared.” My voice was barely a whisper, at high risk of being blown away before he heard. 

   “I know. Just don’t let it control you.” His voice was firm, ever the stern figure. He extended his hand to me. “Promise me.” 

   I enveloped his hand in both of mine and said softly, “I promise.”  

   “Good.” He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the bark. “I love you.” 

   “I love you too.”  

---

   I turned nineteen alone the next morning. The air was warm for March as I stood on the back porch, looking out to the guard tree. I turned the capsule over and over in my hands. As Grandfather went limp three mornings before, the item dropped into my palm. Upon further examination, I realized it was one of the most valuable things in the new world. 

   A pack of frozen seeds, labeled in a handwriting I recognized from the news. Maria Sanchez. 

   I turned my head to the left, the direction in which the last group of new adults had hiked, leaving me behind, clutching to the old world. I wonder if my mother had left that way. Had they followed in her footsteps out west? Did they ever see her, if she was even still alive? I’d heard rumors of poor working conditions out at the dig site, but that could have been the adults trying to scare us away from leaving town. 

   The house was silent behind me, as empty as what heart I had left. 

   “There’s nothing left here for me,” I murmured to nothing in particular. “No past. No future.” 

   I’d suddenly come to a realization. A realization that, if I had nothing to lose, and nothing to gain, I could do whatever without worrying about what came. Within the hour, I’d packed everything I had. Even the beloved news tapes found their way into my pack, though I could recite them by memory and there likely wasn’t anything along the way that could play them. 

   Once again, I stepped outside, with new resolve that had found its way into my soul. I ran to the guard tree, wrapping my arms around it like a little girl. 

   “Watch the house for me,” I whispered into the bark, breathing in the dried particles that constantly blew off of it. Backing away, I said my goodbyes to everyone buried beneath the tree. Grandfather, Grandmother, Father. 

   I pivoted to the west and strutted down the streets that had housed my life, knife in hand out of habit. 

   “Nothing to lose,” I repeated over and over so as not to lose my nerve as I walked onward towards the horizon, the sun at my back. 

---

   In other news, an artist and her dog have just become the creators of the new national flag. When artist Sofia Right found that her dog had flung paint across her canvas, she was hit with a vision. Completing the piece, she submitted it in the contest to find a new national flag for the new world we live in. The design, a tree with a star in the background. A call to the past, it symbolizes hope for a bright future. After all, this is not the end. It’s the beginning.

Thank you everyone for watching. Goodnight.