Earth has been turned into a dangerous wasteland by a mysterious event, called The Impact. Monsters roam the contaminated forests. The few survivors hide behind the high, concrete walls of the shelters.
There is only one man, unwilling to give up h...
What stirs me awake is so incredible that my first thought is I must be dead. It is the strong aroma of fresh coffee. This is just not possible. I haven't smelled coffee in twenty years and have never actually tried it. I know about it from my childhood memories when mom and dad drank the fragrant beverage during breakfast. There was tea or milk for me. Daddy was saying I was too young to drink coffee, although, I always stubbornly insisted to get a cup.
My heart skips a beat. What if they are here? I have never believed in afterlife or reincarnation, but what if it's true? I fought tooth and nail to survive in the wasteland for so long, only to be killed by a monster in the end. I could have given up earlier and be with them all this time. I am not a defeated person, but can't help wondering what was the point in all the suffering. Coming home turned out to be the worst idea I have ever had... or, maybe, the best.
I open my eyes abruptly and immediately hiss at the pain caused by folding my swollen, burnt eyelids. My body convulses in sudden shock as I realize that, despite the effort, I see nothing but darkness.
"Mom? Dad? Am I dead?" My voice is weak. My throat hurts. The taste of ash and smoke in my mouth evokes a sudden onset of nausea.
I start coughing and frantically feeling around me with my hands. There is soft fabric under my palms. It seems I am on a bed. I try to sit up, but only yelp at the searing pain in my muscles and all over my skin. I am alive after all, burnt, blind, completely helpless, but still breathing. It is no surprise that I am hesitant to call it luck. If the beast has dragged me into its lair to eat me later, there is nothing I can do about it. It is weird that a dragon has a bed and drinks coffee, but I am probably not fully conscious and my brain is confusing reality with fantasy. Or I might really be dead after all.
"Hey, you're awake." I jump at the sound of the friendly, male voice. "Don't move, buddy. You're not in a good shape. That wildfire almost took your life. You really got lucky. Good that I found you on time."
"I... Wildfire? Didn't you see it?...Who are you? Where am I?" I stop for a second to take a deep, painful breath. A human. He found me. I reach out to where the mattress sinks under the stranger's weight and whisper, "There was a SUP... a dragon. You saw it, right?"
"You're in shock," the man says calmly, taking my hand and putting a glass in it. "There are no dragons. This is water with medicine in it. We need to clean you up and take care of your wounds. You have quite a few burns, but nothing to worry about. You'll be as good as new in a couple of weeks. The treatment is painful, though. That's why I want you to drink this. It's a very strong pain killer."
I drink obediently the whole content of the glass. It is bitter, but cold and like a blessing for my dry throat. I don't doubt the man's intentions. Humans trust each other unconditionally. There is no other way to survive. I myself would do anything to help if someone is in trouble.
"My name is Gideon. Call me Deon. You're Chris, right?" He carefully puts his palm on my forehead and sighs. "I think you have a fever. I'll cut your clothes and put you in a cool bath. You can't use them again anyway. They look more like burnt rags."
"How do you know my name?" I ask, nodding in agreement.
"Well, you look like a well-done stake right now and you've grown up quite a bit, but I was still able to recognize you. Your pictures are all over the house. You were no more than ten on the latest one, I think."
"What?" I screech, but quickly lower my voice at the piercing pain in my throat, caused by my strident reaction. "What do you mean?"
"I believe, I live in your childhood house," the man chuckles softly. His laughter is warm. It gives me comfort. "I found it five years ago, empty and totally ruined, but only on the outside. Almost everything was untacked inside. I had to do a lot of repairs. You'll like it when you see it."
"See it," I frown. "I see nothing. I'm blind."
"No, you're not," he laughs more. I like it. I haven't heard the sound of laughter for so long. "Your eyes are contaminated and there is some damage to the retina. Nothing permanent, though. They need flushing and it will take some time, but you'll make a full recovery."
"Thank you, Deon," I mumble. "You saved my life."
"You're welcome." He squeezes lightly my hand and I am sure he's smiling. I feel warmth and serenity for the first time in many years. He seems a good man. I trust him. Maybe, I found a friend, in my own house, twenty years after I left it. I almost died to come back home and it was worth it, even if only to know that it is someone's home again and to smell the freshly brewed coffee one more time.
The pain has subsided. The medicine has worked. I feel calm and relaxed.
"There was a dragon," I barely utter. "Its eyes were blue. It was looking straight at me."
"There are no dragons, Chris," the man laughs softly and the kindness in his deep, raspy voice lures me to sleep.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
