Photo by David Wirzba on Unsplash

It was a pleasure to burn.

Those six words would be all that was left, dissected for weeks as the world went to shit. The man’s words. His nervous twitch. His sickly complexion. The gun. It happened and then just like that it was over.

The virus spread like wildfire, and the bombs soon followed. Scared politicians, doing the only thing they know how to do, stoked resentment for the other, whether it be the poor, the disenfranchised, or immigrants. Whole sections of the country were sealed off, those inside consigned to extermination if not by plague than by fire. Only the rich in their walled castles survived unscathed. Everyone else was changed. 

I sat by my grandfather’s radio for a week after the blast, hoping for any news at all. Good or bad, hearing another living soul out there would’ve alleviated at least some of my fears. Emily and I had retreated to our grandfather’s bunker moments before the bomb dropped. I’d been chopping vegetables for a salad when I noticed the flash of light through the kitchen window and the familiar mushroom cloud that formed soon after. We made it inside just as the shockwave decimated the house. 

We lived on the outskirts of Merritsville. Our parents were both teachers who worked at a public school downtown. Our grandfather also lived with us. He was a bit kooky, always talking to himself and looking over his shoulder. He was one of those family members who you learned to tolerate to avoid protracted conflict. We all thought he was crazy building that bunky. It nearly bankrupted the family. If I ever saw him again, I would give him a great big hug and tell him he was right all along. 

“Hello, come in. This is John Morrison. Come in. Can anybody hear me? Come in.”

I positioned my face a few inches from the radio speaker in the hopes of catching even the faintest response.

Nothing.

“I don’t know why you keep trying. It’s broken,” Emily said from across the room, sitting cross-legged on the floor, encircled by old trinkets and miscellaneous tools. She was always mid-adventure in her mind, endowing ordinary things with extraordinary backstory. I’m sure if I asked her she’d say this old radiator and a few rusty screws were on a grand mission to save the dead cockroach from the evil piece of lint.

“It’s not broken,” I said, “It’s just no one’s responding.”

“Mom and Dad will come get us.”

I looked over at a nearby shelf lined with cans of assorted food. It was looking emptier than I’d hoped.

Maybe another day and a half of rations. After that, we’d have to make some choices, I thought.

I eyed some canned dog food on the bottom shelf. I grabbed one, scanning its ingredients.

Seems edible, I thought, hopefully, it won’t come to that.

“We can’t stay cooped up in here,” I said. 

“Why don’t we just wa—“

“Because they aren’t coming back.” I snapped. 

“What do you mean they aren’t coming back?”

Emily’s voice quivered. Her eyes grew big. I looked over at her and saw her hunched over. She was still so young.

“I...I didn’t mean that, Em. I’m sure they’re comin,” I said softly, kneeling down beside her, “Ya know what? We should do some investigating, like those detectives in that show you like.” 

“The Curious Mysteries of Margaret Maguth!” Emily exclaimed.

“Exactly. And we actually have a mystery to solve right now. The case of the missing food.”

“Detective Emily Morrison is on the case!”

Emily exploded off the floor grabbing a magnifying glass out of one of grandpa’s toolboxes. She proceeded to examine the remaining rations looking for any clues, while not-so-quietly humming the catchy Margaret Maguth theme song. I searched for a pair of lead-laced vests and gas masks I knew grandpa kept here.

He really was prepared for anything, I thought.

I found both vests but only one gas mask. I put one vest on and beckoned Emily over to outfit her with the other one and the gas mask. 

“What’s this?” Emily said, eyeing each garment suspiciously. Pointing to the vest, I said, “This is armor. To protect you from monsters.” Moving to the gas mask. “This is so you can be like Batman. No one will know your true identity.”

“Coooooool!” Emily bellowed. I smiled. My energetic little sister never failed to amuse me, no matter what the circumstances. 

“Now, come on. We got some investigating to do!”

When we first made it to the bunker a week ago, it was littered with empty bottles. Growing up, I vividly remember hearing, grandpa plucking around in his bunker late at night, tweaking something, or yelling at the news. On some nights, I could have sworn he was doing some target practice down there too. 

I grabbed grandpa’s gun from his safe in the bunker and a box of ammunition. I wasn’t sure what to expect. I awkwardly tucked it in my pants and covered it with my shirt so Emily couldn’t see it. It felt cold and unwieldy. I had only been to the shooting range a few times with grandpa, but he always used to say that danger tends to give the good guys a bit of clarity which can be helpful in a pinch. 

Emily and I positioned ourselves in front of the bunker’s massive steel egress. It looked more like the entrance to a submarine than a door. You had to twist what looked like a steering wheel to loosen the seal and then push with all your might. 

“Alright, on the count of three. 1...2...3...PUSH!”

The door made a loud creak and then sluggishly gave way. As we emerged from the bunker, I saw that the sky was a drab grey, as if it was sucking the vibrance of life out of the universe itself. Ash was everywhere, congregating in piles, creating a thick pall over our decimated backyard. 

I remembered all the field trips I went on when I was a kid. In each new place we visited, I’d always mentally mark that place’s defining look, taste, smell, or whatever it was that made it special. That’s what I came back to, surveying our newly destroyed backyard. 

Ash was the new look.

Our house rested in shambles. The shockwave had knocked out all the foundations causing the second floor to collapse in on itself. I looked over at Emily. She was frozen, her head tilted slightly upward at the devastation of her former home. Equipped with her vest and mask, her visage cut an eerie shape in this muted world in which we now found ourselves. I squatted next to her, getting as close as I could. 

“How ya doing?” I said, striving hard to keep my face as cheery as possible. Emily didn’t respond, clearly overwhelmed. Her eyes stayed locked on the house or at least what was left of it. I took her hand in mine, trying to provide some comfort. I felt for her. She was used to her cushy life of going to school, watching cartoons, doing homework, and sleeping. This was unlike anything either of us could have imagined.

“It’s gonna be okay, Em. Let’s see if any of your toys made it.”

We methodically forged a path through the rubble, onto our back patio, and into what used to be our kitchen. The granite counters were sunken in or completely gone. The refrigerator sat tipped-over, old food and debris strewn about everywhere. It was a mess. Emily found the remains of a toy giraffe under a bit of debris. It was only the head, but she didn’t care, giving it a big hug and kiss.

“Charles!” She exclaimed, “You’re alright! Oh, I missed you!”

Charles was the giraffe. We moved through the kitchen to the living room. The second floor had caved in creating a sort of ramp up into our parent’s bedroom.

“Stay here, Em. I’m going to have a look upstairs.” 

“Okayyy...” She said, plunking herself down on the ground, “Don’t be too long.”

“I won’t!” I called back, already halfway up the ramp. 

I looked around. A giant hole in the ceiling allowed a few bits of light to illuminate our parent’s bedroom. Everything was destroyed. The bed was split in two, with most of the bookshelves and dressers depleted of their contents. Clothes and jewelry littered the floor. A ring caught my eye. I picked it up.

Mom’s wedding ring, I thought.

I turned it over in my hands, feeling the weight and texture of it. Its shine had been dulled in a thick layer of dust, but the inscription was still clear. “D + E”, Darla and Evan. I stowed it in my pocket, wondering if this was all that was left of my parents. 

That’s when I heard it. It was a scratching sound. It came from what was left of my parent’s bathroom. I drew closer, carefully stepping over debris so the floor wouldn’t give way. The sound grew louder. The bathroom door barely remained on its hinges.

There in the tub was my mother, bleeding profusely and coughing up blood. Her eyes were an empty yellow and her head jostled back in forth. She opened and closed her mouth as if trying to bite the air. I sat there for a bit, unsure of how to proceed. She seemed to cower a bit at the sight of me, and then undulate back and forth as if she was fighting something. Handprints dotted the walls.

I could feel the shock bubbling inside, as a few short gasps overtook me, and then the tears started to flow.

“Oh mother, you did come back for us.”

I reached out my hand to touch and she recoiled in fear. I climbed in the tub with her, taking her head in my lap. I tried to comfort her, running my hands through her matted hair. She seemed to barely know I was there, jostling her head back and forth, blood dribbling from her mouth. All she could muster was a low mix between a gurgle and growl. Her skin felt leathery to the touch. I knew the virus changed people, but this was something else.

If we ventured out earlier, maybe we could of—I couldn’t finish the thought. All I could do was hold her close.

Emily moseyed her way over to the sofa, growing bored of Charles. That’s when she heard a sound. It was a rustling and a low growl. 

“Johnny?”

Unsure, but determined to embody the legendary Margaret Maguth, Emily puffed out her chest, pulled out her magnifying glass, and went to investigate. The sound grew into more of a snarl as she drew closer. Entering the dining room, she spotted a figure crouched over another lying on the floor.

“Johnny?” She whispered.

The sound stopped. The figure leisurely turned to face her. It was Dad, but not him. His eyes were vacant and yellow, his face stretched thin over his body. His arms and legs seemed elongated and exposed. Blood dribbled from his mouth as he let out a visceral scream. Emily dropped Charles, running as fast as she could back to grandpa’s bunker. The not-so-dad-like creature scurried after her, bouncing chaotically on all fours as if it was an overexcited dog chasing a ball. 

Emily barely made it to the bunker door when the creature pounced and a shot rang out. The creature plummeted to the ground dead. I ran over to her. She was full-on crying now. I hugged her tight. 

“It’s okay...it’s okay.”

I took Emily’s hand in mine and we skulked back to the bunker. I sat down in the chair next to the radio while Emily sat on the ground. She pulled out from under her lead vest, two cans of beans I hadn’t noticed her pick up on her way out of the house. I wondered what she must be thinking right now.

I opened my mouth as if to say something, but then stopped. By now Emily had preoccupied herself, with some blocks that had been left down here from before the bomb. She smiled and talked herself through whatever scenario she was imagining in her head, safely millions of miles away from reality. 

“Hey, Em?” I called. 

“Yes?”

“Umm...,” I said, pausing for a moment, “You okay?”

“Yeah”

As if deciding the conversation was over she returned to her blocks. I grabbed the two cans of beans Emily had managed to bring back with her and stacked them neatly with the rest of our food.

Buys us an extra day, I thought. 

Just then the radio zoomed to life. “Come in. Can anybody hear me?....Come in! Come in!” I hopped in the chair. 

“Yes. This is John Everett. I repeat John Everett. Come in. Come in.”

“Phew, we finally got someone. Where you at, kid?” the voice said.

“Merritsville, sir.” 

“Hmm, that’s....static....well listen here, friend. You know the situation we’re in...come and find us....we’re....we’re...ask for General Peaking. When you reach the city ask for Gene—“

Silence. I slouched back in my chair,

“Who was that?” Emily said. 

“I...I don’t know.”

I stared at the radio for a long time. Eventually, I turned back to Emily.

“Em, I wanna be straight with you. You want to stay here or go out there and maybe figure out what’s going on,” I said.

“Go.” She said quietly.

“Why?” I questioned.

“This place is boring. And I want to find grandpa. Maybe he knows where mom and dad went,” Emily reasoned. My heart sank. I looked at her for a long time, choosing my words carefully. 

“Alright, it’s settled. And who knows? I think that might’ve been some of grandpa’s friends on the radio. Maybe he’s waiting for us when we reach the city.” 

Hey everyone,

I hope you had a good week. I recently moved across the country, and now, this week, I feel somewhat settled in my new home. As always, thank you to everyone who has subscribed so far. If you haven’t yet, you can do so easily below.

Cheers,

Robert