A soft murmuring wind blew through
the open, barren valley, carefree and unchained to go where it pleased. It
danced and swirled in the natural bowl of the region until it grew bored and
moved on over the rocky hills. Nothing but dust and sand latched onto this
naked gale; leaves, discarded trash, even voices no longer followed the wind. Untraceable
in this new world, it found its way along an old deserted highway, snaking in
and out of old rusted vehicles, slowly eroding them down further with the sand
it carried. Ever ceaseless, the wind blew on toward unknown horizons.
The only other thing that moved in
this young desert was a lone traveller. He was constantly keeping his long,
brown, hair out of his face. It was hard enough to see anything with the
sandstorm blowing; he didn’t need his hair to get in the way as well. He rubbed
his palms over his earth-caked goggles in a vain attempt to keep them clean. He
had to take care of what few possessions he had left, and these precious
goggles were the only thing keeping the sand and dirt away from his eyes. Among
his treasured items included a case of pills in his backpack used to purify
water, a dull knife tucked into his belt, his food supplies, and a Geiger
counter, a device used to measure radiation.
The lone man hiked ever vigilant,
following the carefree wind along the old interstate. He didn’t have time to
waste on checking the old cars for survivors. He wouldn’t see much anyway with
his goggles on. Trudging onward for what seemed an eternity, he slowed down and
stopped when he noticed that he was dehydrated and very exhausted. The man
approached one of the sturdier looking vehicles and pulled the latch to the
door open with his gloved fingers.
The metal groaned and slowly gave
way, rust flaking off, collecting with the dirt in the wind. Grunting and
breathing heavily, he climbed into the small space and the door closed with a
gentle thud. He took off his goggles and wiped the dirt from his face. The
interior of the vehicle was dim due to the storm raging outside. Fumbling
around for his backpack, the man took a canteen out of a side pocket and drank
hastily from the small leather opening. A warm stream of water trickled down
his mouth. It felt wonderful to take a break from all the walking. He kicked
off his leather boots with his heels and rubbed his sore and weary feet as he
looked out into the endless shades of brown rushing past the cracked glass
window: Copper, mahogany, and burnt sienna. The whole world had become nothing
but these various shades of earth, mixed with a small splash of grey every now
and then.
Travis Roxford had seen countless
days like this for thirty one years, ever since the bombs fell all around the
world. Travis was searching tirelessly for anything, anybody, or any place. It
had become his only purpose in life besides surviving, and he was very adept at
that one, important skill. Watching billions die back when televisions still
worked, and after that, thousands of victims to hunger, anarchy, wanton
violence, radiation poisoning, and madness, he had learned how to keep
breathing when all of society had fallen silent around the globe.
Now hunger and exhaustion were
threatening him once again, a constant reminder of mortality lurking in the
shadows of his consciousness every hour of every day. He had been travelling
the road since just little before the sun rose this morning. He could tell even
through the storm, that it was approaching late afternoon and he could go on no
further until he got some rest. He set his backpack down on the floor of the
car along with his boots before pulling off his shirt. The fresh air clung to
his sweaty body, causing him to shiver slightly. He had been wearing his warm
clothes all day. Bunching up his shirt into a makeshift cushion, he rested his
head down and eventually dozed off.
*
* *
Travis woke up a few hours later to the
rush of the storm against his small temporary shelter. He groaned to himself.
His body was stiff from the uncomfortable fabric seats of the car, and he was
further burdened by the complaining of his stomach. Eating in the afternoon, as
he was sure it still was, wasn’t something he could risk. Every day was planned
meticulously to ease his mind. He knew if he stuck to his schedule he wouldn’t
have to worry about running out of food and water unexpectedly.
After all the supplies were checked
and his clothes had been slipped back on, he opened the creaky car door and
re-entered the war-torn world he’d come to know. The storm had eased up enough
for him to see the sun hanging lower in the sky than he would have liked, and
the distance which he could see had grown. Past the long stretch of land the
road climbed upward into a hill. That was where he was going to go next. He
lugged his backpack up and slung it over his shoulder, looking back at the car.
He sorely wished that these vehicles
could still run - traveling on foot took a monumental effort on his part. Alas,
after thirty long years, he had not seen a single working vehicle. He had never
driven one since he was only a child before The End, and now he sighed knowing
he would never get to experience it.
All electronic devices had been
rendered useless after the war. He had overheard his father and other adults on
the television and radios talking about something called EMP blasts,
Electromagnetic Pulses. These blasts were another horrific result of the
invention of nuclear weapons. The EMP blast effectively short circuits all
electrical conductors; in the words his late father had used, “ It acts much
like a someone clapping their hands very loudly close to your ear, and
afterwards you cannot hear very well.”
Travis simply sighed, suddenly
missing all the people he had once loved. He got over the frustration of being
unable to run a motorised vehicle and continued his trek down the interstate.
Long ago the whole region used to be
a forest with the highway intersecting it into halves, littered with signs that
had been put up to warn drivers of deer which would occasionally jump out onto
the road at night. The deer had perished along with the trees and the nutrient
soil; nothing could grow here now. The surviving animals of the forests had been
forced to become cannibalistic or carnivorous, throwing out the balance of order
in nature far beyond repair. The forest was just another victim of the fallout:
the sterile earth and poisonous rains could no longer sustain life here, or
anywhere Travis had visited. The ground he covered had withered and cracked
after the trees died during the long nuclear winter three decades past, and the
only things that remained were the endless, desolate expanses of sand, rock and
barren, lifeless trees. The only source of green Travis had seen in a long time
was the sickly-tinted horizon off in the distance. The skies of today were a
blotch of grey and brown, with those ghastly green edges. Travis tried not to
think about it too much.
He was glad to have reached the foot
of the hill where the road sloped up; it was a small achievement for him to have
gotten this far in a sandstorm. The journey was slow, but eventually he got to
where he was going. Travis had been travelling north along the highway for a
couple of weeks now, perhaps a month; it was hard to remember such meaningless
things anymore. He wondered if the great city of New York was just another
smouldered pile of rubble. Every other capital he had passed had been the same:
Burnt and crumbled buildings with no sign of life anywhere. Still after
thousands of miles travelled, and years of searching, Travis Roxford had a
small bit of hope to grasp onto. If he had survived, surely others had as well.
He almost laughed, as the thought of him being the toughest person on earth
popped into his head. Perhaps not the toughest, maybe he was just the luckiest.
He stopped and considered that for a moment. Maybe he was the unluckiest person in the world. He tried
to muster another laugh, unconsciously aware of his battle against loneliness
and depression which raged on deep inside him.
He wasn’t going to let sad thoughts
break him down today. Thrusting his leather boot into the ground in triumph, he
surveyed the land from the top of the hill. As if the heavens were rewarding
him, the storm had begun to relax, breaks appearing between gusts allowing him
to see far into the distance. He decided to sit and rest his legs a bit more,
waiting for the storm to end so he could see the view. After a short period of
time, no more than fifteen minutes he guessed, the dust stopped spreading,
leaving a naked wind to howl alone once more. Travis stood up with a smile on
his face and gazed out at what he had just traversed. He saw low rolling hills
of rock and earth in the distance, with small pockets of dead trees marking the
land. He saw the ever prevalent wreckage of a golden age violently and suddenly
ended. Power lines and their accompanying poles had all but tipped over,
leaving a vast trail of cables as far as he could see, like a long black rope
tying the earth in a bundle. Far to the west he saw the skeleton of a plane,
the framework jutting out like ribs of a dead beast. He took in a deep breath
and shouted out in a deep voice,
“Is there anybody out there?“. He knew
he would not get a response, he was merely amusing himself. He turned to face
his new destination, and looked out at the other side of the hill, northward,
and again he shouted in his deep resonating voice. The echoes were carried by
the wind and he enjoyed the simple acoustics.
Suddenly as if in answer, a small
sparkle flashed in the corner of his eye. His heart raced and he whipped his
head around to find what had caught his attention. To the east he saw nothing
but more ravaged landscape and hills. But wait, there it was again! A small
silver glint burned into his view when the clouds parted to reveal the sun.
Travis became excited and his mind raced with thoughts and ideas. Maybe a
survivor had heard him far off, and was trying to contact him with a small
mirror or something else. He knew assuming such things would only lead to a big
disappointment, but he made sure his backpack was secure and started running
down the side of the slope, away from the highway. He hopped the small rusted
guard rail and ran along the sandy earth, being careful not to trip.
Survivors.
The word kept resonating in his mind, over and over again like clockwork. Small
fits of joyous laughter burst from his mouth, followed by gasping breaths. He
was still aware of his hunger and should be conserving his strength. With this
in mind, he slowed to a slow jog, passing the same tired scenery, for about
twenty minutes until he was at the foot of the hill. Beyond it could be another survivor, he thought. He climbed higher,
over the rocks with his hands and knees, stepping over small discarded twigs
which snapped under his weight. Soon he reached the top. Adrenaline pumped
through his veins with reckless abandon. What lay in front of him was so
unexpected, so surreal, he began to shake and weep.
It had been so long since Travis had
seen and felt such remarkable beauty. His eyes could barely comprehend the
image; he thought they were playing tricks on him again. He had seen mirages
before, but this was so vivid, so crystal clear like icicles hanging from a
frozen creek! The legs beneath him buckled and he simply stared into the
sparkling reflection; a doppelganger Travis staring back at him on his own
hill. He got up, forced his knees to straighten and slowly, ever so cautiously
went to check it out. He was afraid that if he got closer it would all shatter
like a dream if he so much as stopped focusing straight at it. He touched the
glass wall, his reflection mimicking him. He controlled his emotions and
straightened his back, with fits of coughing from all the excitement. Slowly he
walked to the door and paused, with his gloved hands on the door knob. Travis
had found a small oasis in the eternal desert. He opened the door, and slowly
walked into the greenhouse.
* * *
A small rush
of wind unexpectedly blew past him as he opened the glass doors to the shelter.
It brought a strong earthy smell with it, a scent which had been long forgotten
for the lone wanderer. It reminded him of the garden back at home, before it
had been reduced to a radioactive heap of manure.
The humidity, dampness, and sweet smells
of nature moved Travis deeply. He took in the sights of the exotic plants, the
trees teeming with life all around, the vines reaching out and attaching
themselves to every surface they could find. He took in another deep breath and
sighed.
He had to get down to business;
there would be plenty of time to enjoy the scenery later.
“Hello! Is there anybody around?” he shouted. He waited a few moments for a
response before continuing. “My name is Travis Roxford! I am searching for
survivors... I bear no hostility and I don’t carry any firearms!” The only
reply was a muffled echo. He began to walk the small dirt trail that lead
deeper into this out-of-place jungle.
Stopping every so often to listen
for sounds of movement, he wondered if there really were any survivors here,
and if there was, were they too afraid to show themselves? He didn’t despair;
surely they were just in some sort of office closed off from the rest of the
garden. He had noticed outside the complex that the greenhouse stretched on in
his vision for miles. It must’ve been roughly the size of a small town.
Therefore it was quite possible that any survivors had simply not heard his
calling.
He would soon find out, however, why
nobody had heard him.
Small footsteps in the trail ahead
of him quickened his pulse. He picked up the pace, his gear clanking along,
until he reached a bend in the path. Quickly the hairs on the back of his neck
stood up; something wasn’t right. He couldn’t figure what was wrong at first
until he stopped to think about it. The earthy smell had been the only thing he
noticed when he first entered this place, but now that his nose had gotten used
to it, he sensed a faint odour underlying the sweet fragrance of life. He had
come to know this smell very closely. He pushed the thoughts out of his mind
and started to run.
Adding to his fears, the distances
between each set of prints became less frequent, and more erratic, as if
whoever had left them had been staggering. Another bend appeared in the trail.
The smell became more pungent, more noticeable. Travis’ expression became
concerned, reflecting the fears running in his mind. At the end of the turn,
those fears became justified.
A horribly disfigured corpse lay
slumped against the bark of some unidentifiable, tropical tree. The blood left
a grisly mark down the face of the trunk and pooled at the bottom where the
body lay. The raw stench of death emanated from it. Travis recoiled in horror
and covered his face with his shirt. The image of the dead boy stayed in his
mind after he had looked away in disgust. He might as well had been still
staring directly at it: the slack expression of the deceased boy’s face, the
vines which grew out of the open wounds in his chest that had grown and
entangled his limbs like a hungry snake, and the torn bloody clothing. What in hell had happened here?, he
thought.
Panic suddenly seized him and he
felt a wave of nausea coming. He fell to his knees and vomited, wiping his
mouth to rid himself of the excess fluids. He hastily searched his pack for the
canteen, and once he had found it, he guzzled down the last of his water. He
lay on the ground after that and tried to get his thoughts in order.
Eventually, however, he had regained
his strength and composure and willed himself to stand. He sorted the events
out in his mind, unaware that he was speaking his thoughts aloud. This had
become a habit of being in solitude for extended periods of time.
Travis walked up to the body and
began to examine the area for clues of the boy’s horrific death. His mission to
find survivors had quickly turned into an investigation.
There was no evidence of there being
anybody else. After what seemed an hour of observing, Travis came to the
conclusion that some sort of large mammal must’ve attacked the unfortunate
soul. He didn’t dwell on the fact that he had not seen any other tracks, human
or otherwise, in the greenhouse. Deciding that looking for other survivors was
his next priority, he began to follow the trail again, leaving the gruesome
scene behind him.
The vibrant displays of the plant
species he passed by, were filled with life and seemed to mock the grim fact
that a survivor had been claimed within this forest. The leaves appeared to
somehow be perky, joyously pointing upwards towards the sun shining through the
glass. It was a celebration of the miracle of life everywhere he looked; plants
absorbing water and sunlight to prosper in their current condition. It gave him
a chill down the back of his spine. Despite his feelings, he was determined to
get down to the bottom of all this.
*
* *
The sun had
been slowly descending in the sky for the long hours of the evening while
Travis searched the endless greenhouse for other people. He had searched
without pause for hours and had become very anxious and frustrated. Where the hell was everybody? Someone had to
be maintaining this place..., he thought. His throat was sore from shouting
for so long trying to get a response; he was going to have to give up for the
night and find someplace to rest. Before he could do that though, he knew he
would have to locate a source of water. Even under these stressful conditions,
water still meant the difference between life and death.
It didn’t take him long to follow
the sound of a trickling stream. He bent down and pulled the Geiger counter out
of his backpack. With a steady grip on the device, he waved it out in front of
the water. The meter swayed and the counter crackled while it displayed a
reading of the stream. The needle barely moved at all, which was the first good
sign. Travis clicked the setting to x1 display instead of x10 and rechecked.
The needle moved about halfway across the face of the instrument. The stream
was slightly toxic, but it would be safe to drink.
Travis wondered how the water was
pure enough to support this garden, but sadly he knew he wasn’t going to get
any answers if he failed to find someone first. He dug into his side pockets
for the radiation pills and popped one out of the aluminum casing and gulped it
down with a handful of the stream water. He didn’t want to take any chances
without the pill. That was one of the rules to surviving, minimise the risks.
Travis looked up through the canopy
of trees and saw the sky growing dark.
“I guess it’s time for bed,” he told himself. He made camp by the stream and
was soon dozing off, unaware of the eyes watching him through the dense jungle.
*
* *
Travis
jolted from his slumber several hours later when he heard strange noises coming
from somewhere. He was hearing horrible rough scraping sounds, like nails on a
large bone. His eyes were wild, searching the darkness to locate where it was
coming from. He was terrified into a momentary paralysis and broke out into a cold
sweat. The noises continued all around him, seeming to come from everywhere and
nowhere at once. He tried to force his feet to the ground and run, but his
brain couldn’t carry out the necessary commands. Suddenly some twigs snapped
close by and a loud gasp issued from Travis, followed by the muffled sound of
slow footsteps. He snapped out of his paralysis and began to run wildly through
the night, off the trail and running through the bush.
Tree limbs and shrubs snapped at
him, cutting his face as he sprinted clumsily away from danger. He didn’t stop
until his ragged breathing became too much to bear. Doubled over from
exhaustion, he tried to catch his breath. The noises had ceased and he was left
alone with an eerie silence as his only company; there was no soft buzz of
insects or a gentle breeze in the greenhouse. Terror gripped at his mind and he
dared not move so he could listen with all the focus he could muster. There was
nothing but a consuming void of darkness and silence encircling him.
He suddenly felt the sensation of something
standing behind him. He turned and a primal shriek of horror escaped his
throat.
A rotting corpse stood inches from
Travis, its dead clouded eyes staring into him. Its horrible mouth was hanging
open and there was no breath coming from it. A spasm of horror caused him to
fall backwards onto his hands and knees but the dead thing made no move to
attack.
“Get away from me! “ he cursed at it, spittle flying from his lips, “Don’t come
any closer or I swear I’ll kill you!!”. The body stood there and continued its
icy stare, a penetrating look which sent another wave of hysteria through him.|
Travis backed away from it, hoisted
himself up and turned, but before he could run he was stopped in his tracks. Dozens
of rotting men and women were shuffling toward him; they made no noise to alert
him to their presence. Their feet were mute against the forest floor. The
horrified man lost control over his mind and began to sprint past them and
didn’t ever stop to look behind him to see if they were giving chase. Wheezing
gasps were trailed by the sounds of snapping branches and crunched leafs. His
body became a machine which only had one function: to run as fast as he could.
It was a difficult task since navigating the darkness was near impossible.
However, the alternative to smashing into trees he couldn’t see was to let
those freakish ghouls catch up to him.
Naturally he ran out of steam and
was forced to slow down to an awkward gait. His heels and lungs burned with the
effort of running while his throat seized up on him as he took in huge gasps of
air. He wished he could’ve kept running until he found a way out of this
hellish place, he was beyond terrified and he couldn’t stop worrying about more
dead bodies coming for him. He checked all around him but saw nothing but a
faint glow in the distance. He couldn’t tell what was causing it but it made
him nervous. He made sure one more time that he was alone and began to collect
his thoughts. Oh god, what the hell were
those things... where should I go, what should I do? He thought. Too many
questions were pouring into his brain and he needed to calm down so he could
make a decision. There’s no use fumbling
around in the dark, my best bet is going to be over there where I can at least
fend off an attack. His hand automatically moved to the dagger in his belt.
Slowly and warily he moved towards the light.
Every small noise he caused made him
jump with fright. Everything kept him on edge. There was no rational explanation
for what had just happened back there... the dead don’t walk; they had never
walked. The unfocused eyes continued to stare at him in his imagination, nurturing
his fear as he grew closer and closer to the source of the glowing light. He
could see that it was in a small clearing just up ahead.
When he got there, he made sure not
to make any noise. His eyes adjusted from the darkness and scanned everything
they could. There were small abrasions covering the back of his hands, and he
could feel their slight sting against his cheeks. He checked his clothes and
found only small tears scattered here and there. Then he looked up and saw the
skinless raven curiously watching him.
He let out a startling cry which
scared the bird. The beastly thing cawed at him and flew off into the
darkness...
Travis thought he was going mad. He
was shocked to discover he was giggling uncontrollably. He no longer felt alone
anymore and he waited out in the open, knowing he could be seen. Soon the vines
at his feet and all around him snaked to life, moving and converging into a
single point. They groped at each other and began to resemble a human figure,
slowly twisting around and grabbing each other. He could do nothing but stare
transfixed at this strange event. He instinctively grabbed at the dagger and
unsheathed it from the protective leather case on his belt. The vines reacted
and seemed to issue a dry, horrible groan. The human-like apparition used the
vines to mimic a human being. It groaned and began to speak,
“Do not...be afraid”. The vines tightened and gave the body a rigid form. The
thing tilted its head back and forth, as if it couldn’t control support it.
“What is this madness?” Travis barked at it. ”What are you?” The vines didn’t
respond. “I demand you tell me!” His voice was distraught with anger and fear.
After a few moments it hissed in response,
“Come closer... you must be weary from your travels...,” its speech was awkward
and slow, “stay with us...” It reached out a limb of vines toward Travis. He
pointed his blade at it and stepped back.
“Like hell I will... you come any closer and...” he trailed off. The dead
bodies lurked from the shadows and surrounded the lit up clearing. When they
stopped in their tracks they were completely motionless, unwavering. The human
vines opened their arms as if asking for an embrace.
“You will never be ... lonely anymore...” It croaked.
Travis had to do something quick.
The undead were blocking him off all around him; he would have to act now. He
lunged towards the monstrous figure and plunged the blade into its chest. It
cut through many of the vines and became lodged in between them.
The monster let out a cry that shook
the very earth and began to flail wildly, trying to grab Travis. He dodged its
grasp and he began to charge through the ring of bodies. He dashed past them
but he was blind in the night; his eyes hadn’t adjusted to the darkness. He
kept hearing the grisly shrieks from the beast and the cawing of the skinless
raven somewhere in the sky above. He panicked and ran, ran until his muscles
ached, until they burned and adrenaline pumped to keep him going. He ran past
the assembly of corpses lined up throughout the forest; they were watching his
escape with blank expressions. Anger boiled deep within him, anger for this god
forsaken place. All he wanted was to get out.
As if his deepest wish had been
granted, he recognized the familiar bend in the road and followed it; it was his
lifeline in this sea of darkness. The shrieking could still be heard in the
distance and it unnerved him to the core of his being.
“There it is!” he shouted. The exit.
The only way in and out of this place. He raced to the door, and felt the
handles with his fingers. He tugged on them and the door creaked and gave way
as he suddenly heard a terrible roar that shook the glass he held onto. Without
looking back, he ran past the open doors into the chilly desert night.
*
* *
Travis had forgotten at what point he had
collapsed onto the earth, had fallen asleep and woken up again. He had lost all
his strength from fear and over exertion inside the greenhouse the night
before. All of his muscles had ached.
The sun had risen over the hills and cast an
orange beam across the landscape and was reflected back in the pane glass
structure of the greenhouse. It was morning when he realised he had abandoned
his backpack in that place. He had shouted and cursed into the wind at that
discovery and paced for hours wondering what to do. He couldn’t have left all
his worldly possessions behind, but the thought of returning to the jungle
within that prison would surely have meant death. Simply, Travis was terrified
of the greenhouse. He had no choice however, survival would be impossible
without his instruments and supplies.
At some point in the day he had
decided to return. The task was difficult and he had spent hours with his hands
on the door, afraid to go inside. Eventually though his strength and will
returned to him and he had gone in. What he discovered that day was almost
worse than what had happened before. He found no evidence of the dead young boy
at the bend in the road. There had also been nothing around him, no corpses,
ravens, or living vines. He never found the spot where he had been confronted,
and thus never retrieved his blade. He had found his backpack by the radiated
stream where he had left it. It hadn’t taken Travis long to get out of there,
just the thought of being trapped in there was more than he could’ve handled.
*
* *
He stood on the road overlooking the
valleys and distant hills which lay beside the old interstate. His eyes caught
no glints of sun this time as he travelled alongside the old abandoned cars;
relics of a golden age past. There were no clouds in the sky today and he knew
it would be calm weather for a few days. Some good luck was finally shining
down upon him he thought. However ...Travis Roxford didn’t know if he was going
insane after the long years by himself, and the greenhouse would continue to
haunt him in his dreams for the rest of his life. In a sad attempt to battle
the loneliness, he had begun to talk to things he passed by on his travels. He
made friends with strange things such as his personal belongings, shapes in the
clouds, and the ever blowing wind. Sometimes he would even miss his knife, and
felt bad for leaving it there in the greenhouse. The days began to stretch into
each other after that horrific event, and Travis barely noticed the passage of
time through the eternal stars ahead and the markings of the sun and moon. The
quest to find survivors had died with his mental stability; he had become
nothing but a lone mad wanderer in an empty world.
The wind gave a soft murmur of
condolence to the poor man as it travelled along beside him on the endless road
in Armageddon.
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