The Rapture

SEVEN

PEARL

I was getting really bored.

It was taking quite a bit of time to get to Lare, wherever the hell that was.

I stayed mostly to myself. Every now and then, he would check in on me, offering me food. I mostly declined, but always took him up on the offer of something to drink, staring at him like an idiot. Like a blushing high school girl with a crush. I knew I was being awkward, but I couldn't help it.

He was just... beautiful. Otherworldy. Huge. How could I not stare?

The need to pelt him with questions was strong, but a particular question stuck with me, souring my mood.

Stop being a pussy and just ask him.

On the third time he came to check on me, I caved in. He stood with his hands behind his back, regarding the room with a calculating expression. Or, at least, that's what I thought he looked like. It was hard to make sense of him.

"You wanted to ask me a question?"

I nodded, taking a deep breath, because it was a loaded one.

"Why was I the only human saved during the apocalypse?" When he said nothing, I went on, unloading more questions. "What about the others? There are other good people too, that break laws, steal, and even murder. You never know the context. Maybe a mother is stealing to provide formula for their child. Maybe a murderer is acting in self-defense."

I wasn't sure why I was hesitant to ask him this, but I was. Maybe it was survivor's guilt. I felt fierce conviction with this, though.

One of the best people I knew was my stepdad, and he went to prison for bogus charges. I was in the foster care system for years, but spent time with him often. Even I had a record—albeit, trespassing—that came with my job.

Technically, since I broke a law, was I immoral?

I wasn't any better than anyone else.

Why did the other ones have to die? Sure, I didn't want to live in a bomb shelter with the survivors of Earth, but there had to be redeeming qualities to some of them.

People could change, people could evolve.

He took a step forward—then I realized why. Even while I was sitting, I was shaking. I put my hands up to stop him from coming near. I didn't want to be touched.

He was probably right. My mental state was likely fragile, but I couldn't care less at this point.

His arms were outstretched. I stared, not really seeing them, confused at that action.

His voice was clipped. "I can only save a few. Do not spend your emotional energy on this issue; it will only exacerbate your distress."

"Only a few? But there are still others there," I pointed out. "There has to be a million or so left. All hiding. Don't you care about us regardless? When the fallout clears, and they emerge—"

"It is solely your kind's fault that they behave in the manner they do. They will not survive as they are. They are nothing more than a failed experiment, so let it be, Pearl. You might be an exception, but do not mistake that as complacency."

What?

I glared at a descendant of the beings that wove together my very existence so many thousands of years ago, according to him. The ones who manipulated our very biology then left us like an orphan.