The Letzeburg Journals

It was a particularly melancholy night before I left my living sectors for the first time in months. I laid there on my bed staring into the ceiling my arms crossed above my head. I couldn't sleep the night before either, I had vivid dreams about life before the great war that left our beloved earth deteriorating in radiation. We were the lucky ones as they say, only a small fraction that made it out alive. But, life in the red planet wasn't living, it was surviving, I know it sounds inconsiderate but sometimes it felt like a tedious existence. It was a tally to the days we grew the population back to what it once was. I felt like cattle stuck in an endless mundane existence waiting to find purpose in it. Everything was calculated by the leaders that saved humanity, from our profession to the romantic partners we were arranged. Despite how much they tried desperately to have us assimilate and live a normal life, I couldn't wholeheartedly call this place home. Instead I fixated and lived in the past, in my memories.

Last night I felt the ghost of my late girlfriends arms around me. We were in the Gothic quarters in Paris, we were sitting on a bench around the gardens of the Chateau de Chenonceau joyfully discussing about moving to a new place away from Paris and planning for the future. That day we had a debate between Lyon and Montpellier which lead to a playful shouting match. Her big brown eyes looked lovingly into mine while I played with her curly long hair. I gave in to settle by the beaches. Five years later I still relive that particular day over and over. I think of what was to be. She's long passed away but nothing could replace her or those natural moments we shared. Nothing would replace spending an afternoon in Paris, the city I could never return to, it died with her.

"When do you leave, honey" says Matilda, one of my four wives meticulously chosen by the acting government entities. She walks into my bedroom in her robe and sits besides me and caresses my open palm.

"Take care of the children while I'm gone" I tell her, cupping the cheeks on her face, I wipe away the tears on her eyes beginning to form. Two of my other wives, Aimée and Bernadette are waiting in the hallway sobbing quietly. My other wife, Chloé probably in our other bedroom, like her I was burdened by the past and living in a loveless polygamous marriage. I speak to Matilda for a while and finally let go of her hand and walk over to the hallway to embrace my other two wives. Then head on to look for Chloé in the other room.

"Bonjour Jean, you'll try to go to Paris, no?" she asks.

"I don't think I can, Chloé, I have no choice", she pouts and grabs my hand and grips it tightly.

"If you pass, you'll tell me it's still there?"

"Of course"

"I just want to know it's still there, it still exists and I'm not going mad" she says, her voice breaking down holding her tears back.

"I will tell you if I pass" I tell her. She leans in and kisses my neck, tears welling up on her eyes. They are filled with an emptiness I've seen when we first met. She continues kissing me and holds me tight. We made love for the last time in six months.

Six months later, six taxing months of physical exertion and mental anguish in the vessel, me and two other soldiers volunteering for the mission back to Earth stood in front of our captain, the man I read countless books about in preparation, the polyglot, Captain Filip Van Opstal, the last known surviving person who spoke Flemish since the complete destruction of Belgium.

"Today marks the beginning of a new chapter for our international cultures, ladies and gentlemen. In my humble existence I found you could never have too much information so today I elucidate once again the dangers we face on Earth and I will gladly remind you all about our due diligence in this benevolent mission." he says speaking in English for emphasis, in his soft almost hissing Flemish accent.

The three of us stood proudly in our specialized uniforms armed with our service weapons. After all we were eager to make a difference, there were previous extraction missions for the other major countries in the world but little effort came into the preservations of the small nations that lived, leading to many extinct cultures. That being said, getting a chance to walk on Earth was rewarding enough for us. We were nicknamed by the language we spoke as evidenced by the flags etched into our uniforms. I was called French, over the last six months I excelled in a variety of assault weaponry. German who was the explosives expert but also a kind hearted man who enjoyed the intricacies of Science and nature . Dutch was a brave fierce soldier, she complimented the trio by acting as the lead, she was very attentive to potential threats and problem solving. 

"Yes captain" we all sound to our Belgium captain.

"Ladies and gentlemen, today is a reminder we will face the harshness of a cruel reality stemming from the small-mindedness of the old leaders. Their impetuous conclusion for atomic warfare created this new world filled with radiated monsoon weather. A reminder it will peel the skin on your bones so be very cautious. Please remember to mind the creatures that lurk in the surroundings, the ones you grew up knowing are only diminutive versions of the beasts that exists today, radiated by five years of discordant evolution. And be weary of the people left to perish, they will be riddled with sickness or may be hostile. Do not engage unless they pose an imminent threat to us. Are we clear?" the Flemish captain says. "We must protect ourselves from the infections they may carry". 

He almost says it all in one breath as we lingered on every word of his rant with a an inquisitiveness but determination to fight. We were equipped with an armor coated with material that resisted to the acidity of the rain but only for a short period.

"Yes captain!" we all sound.

"And of course a reminder for our mission, ladies and gentlemen. We will extract cultural artifacts from the public libraries and museums, Grand Dutchy of Luxembourg awaits. Luxembourgish is a language extinct today in our Red Planet, today we will revitalize it if we can. Along with artifacts, we will hope to find documents, books, art pieces. As you know our nations once shared a peaceful partnership so it is symbolic we gathered one soldier for the major languages spoken here several years prior, the leaders placed this mission under the low significance category so it makes this all the more worthwhile to see you all here. Thank you all for your service, It has been an honor leading you all and I look forward to greeting you back here when we rendezvous". He takes a deep breath and looks diligently into our eyes and salutes us all. 

"God Speed" he says.

After the ship docks on the high end of a building, we are now in the heart of Luxembourg city, once known as the 'Green Heart of Europe' now desolated with dark hue of overgrowth wild plants and ubiquitous dead trees. The three of us jogging in formation heading towards the history museum as fast as we could.

"Hurry!" yells Dutch, she reminds us of the forty five minute window before the powerful acidic storm hits. "We don't have much time" she says.

"Let's make our way towards the bridge over the river"

We run pass the canals filled with a rusted brown liquids stagnant from the debris inside, even through our helmets I can smell the putrid smell of rot and decay. As we're rushing I scope around to see if I can spot any living things, sound I see little voles with tumors walking by then spot a pack of wild dogs in a pack staring keenly towards us from up a hill several feet away. One of them begins to howl and growl aggressively, the rest join in..

"They have our scent" I say. 

German without hesitating launches a small grenade towards their vicinity. It creates a loud explosion and decimates the pack of wild beasts, all but one. Dutch is startled by this as she was fixating on the entry way to the bridge. The last one baring his teeth running towards us at full speed. Few bullets from my assault weapon are enough to stop it.

"German was this you" says the captain listening in through the speakers in our armor.

"Ja" German says with a worrisome look on his face.

"I use to shelter German Shepherds before the War..." he says.

We are now pass the crumbled concrete bridge The history museum still a short ways ahead, we spot the building but need to run pass the neighboring demolished buildings and thick wild bushes. Suddenly we are confronted by a strange man in a tattered hood and raincoat. The skin on his face and body appears badly damaged in third degree burns. He looks at us and starts to laugh.

"You three is from the other world, no?" he says laughing hysterically holding his rifle limp to his sides.

"Stay back!" says Dutch.

I stare at him for a few minutes while it occurs to me his accent.

"Are you from..."

"It is a Parisian" says the captain listening through the speakers.

The strange man starts walking closer to us and the three of us walk backwards to gain distance.

"You have nice toys" he says smiling. Then we begin to hear rustles of bushes nearby, several dozen foot steps in close proximity.

"I will take these from you" he says, his weapon now aiming towards us pointing at Dutch. He smiles and licks his lips.

 The three of us have now drawn our weapons towards him, German and Dutch look around at where the noise is coming from while I fixate on the strange mans voice.

"You are from France?" I ask eager for an response.

He seems disinterested in what I have to say instead fixating on Dutch who he seems fascinated with, he looks at her up and down.

Then several men in heavy clothing approach, similar patches of burnt skin on their faces, dark yellowed teeth and bearing weapons. They all hold a variety of different guns and clubs, antique swords, and bow and arrows.

"We're in trouble" says Dutch.

We are all outnumbered now, about fifteen men surrounding us from all sides. The strange men getting closer the more we wait hesitantly.

German was the first to shoot. The gun fires reciprocated with a chaotic response, most of the obvious casualties to the hostiles considering our automatic weapons. I shoot the first man on his shoulder as he falls backwards, his face slamming the concrete nearby, his shot misfires upwards. Dutch kills the majority of them aiming firstly at those with guns. Consequently one man swings his sword towards her arm leaving her with a large bloodied gash on her arm. I was bludgeoned by a wooden club that cracked my helmet, and then a few shots that landed on my bullet proof vest. German had the misfortune of an arrow directly to his knees. He stumbles down before several shots penetrate his armor. He died bravely on the square of a concert hall in Neimënster. The battle ends and we laid besides him with several other dead corpses trying to tend to our wounds, and catching our breath.

"Is he gone?" says the captain almost as if he knew.

"Yes" says Dutch.

One man still alive, the strange Parisian now with a concussion. I turn him from his shoulders and place him on his back.

"You better answer my questions!" I demand.

His eyes opened slightly gushing blood from his mouth, I punch him once in the face for causing German's death. He looks at me and smiles with his rotten teeth and whispers. 

"Beware the specters in the fog!" he yells. A powerful thunder grumbles nearby soon as he shouts followed by an instant pouring of blackened acidic rain. His skin vapors from the pouring on his skin, blood streaming down, he screams in agonizing pain with his last breaths.

Me and Dutch run furiously as quickly as possible when we hear something otherworldly in the distance. Loud screeching sounds from the skies. While the skies are engulfed in the charcoal colored clouds, we spot a shadow up above and then the high frequency screeching gets louder. We burst through the windows of the History museum while the rain trickles outside.

"What the hell was that" says Dutch.

'I don't know..."

"This was all for nothing" I say pacing around in the building, a completely destroyed and empty museum with no signs of books or relevant documents worth preserving.

"Another lost culture and language dead with its people..."

An old man yells back at us awakened by the noise we caused, he says something in the Moselle Franconian language.

"Haal de baack" he snaps in what sounded like an insult.

"Ladies and gentleman , our German brethren did not die in vein" says captain through the speakers of Dutch's suit with a hint of relief.

"Bring our new friend" he says.

Me and Dutch wait for the rain to stop before walking the old man holding onto his arms. He starts to get aggressive and combatively tries to squirm away. Dutch breathing irregularly from the wound on her arm.

"Aufhören" he yells reaching over to a small area by his bed.

We continue to walk him out of the building as he pulls out from his pockets pebbles of food.

"Wann ech glift" the fragile man says sobbing. Pointing at his blankets, wrapped underneath is an older dog that laid sleeping besides him. He pokes his head out from the blankets.

"Captain?" I ask.

"What is it?"

"He has a pet" I continue.

"Leave it" says the captain.

Me and Dutch look at each other briefly before we continued dragging the old man from his arms kicking and screaming.