The world stopped breathing that night. That night was when everyone forgot. Everyone slept, and would never open their eyes again. I wondered if I really was the last man standing on this Godforsaken Earth. The night I'm talking about is the one when the bombs hit. Giant nukes destroyed lives, towns, countries. For miles and miles when I stood alone on the beach near my broken home, I could only see a black ocean with thousands of floating corpses of both fish and human. After the nukes hit, I left what was left of my hometown to search.
I searched high and low for my family and friends. Everywhere I looked though was destroyed, nothing was left. As each day went by as I searched, I kept getting more sick. Yesterday I started to hack up blood, and it had only gotten worse since then. I knew I was dying.
But before I did face deaths cold claw, I wanted to see at least another face. Another face that would at least give me some little spark of hope or contentment, because that's all I had left. Some type of hope that this wasn't the end. My hope has started to dwindle though. This truly was the end, I thought. There's no hope at all, hope was just a figment of my imagination. That's what I thought until today.
The last autumn leaf fell from the only tree I could see, and miles beyond it was barren, grey, and cold. From that tree though, billowing in the wind on a lower branch, was a scrap of blue fabric. It was so bright and vibrant against the monochromatic colors of the world that it instantly stood out to me. If this scrap of fabric kept its color for this long, then I could live another day. I had enough of my will left and stubbornness in my thick skull that I could probably live two days more before my time came to an end.
I felt dizzy though when I reached for the fabric. My arms started to feel heavy, I couldn't concentrate. I tried to stand upright but I had gotten such a sickening feeling in my stomach that I had to lean against the tree. Collapsing to my knees, I fell back, hitting my head on the tree's ashen bark. It hurt, and just made my head spin all the more.
Just before I blacked out, a figure stood in the distance. Another, I thought, another. Then the ground came up to meet me very suddenly.
Small embers danced off the dirt and the fire crackled like Pop Rocks. Pop Rocks were good, I hadn't had those for... For years it seemed. The world came back into focus as I watched the small bursts fly from the flames. Glancing up to observe my surroundings, I realized that I hadn't built this fire. This wasn't my jacket I was wearing. "Oh, you're awake." And that wasn't my voice. I shot up into a sitting position, but clutched my head in pain soon after. "Careful there, you hit your head pretty hard when you fell." The voice said. Looking up I met eyes with another. The voice wasn't my own, that face wasn't my own. This was another. Another human being that existed here with me. "Glory..." I whispered. "You're real? It's not just my mind playing tricks on me?" I asked more to myself than to the man sitting across from me.
He nodded. "You're correct. I'm as real as you are." I reached out my hand. "May I?" He grabbed my hand gently in his. "You may. You haven't seen anyone else for as long as I have, most likely." I touched his face. The beard growing along his jaw and chin felt real. Those mismatch eyes, green and blue, looked caring. The ears, the hair, the lips, everything was as real as I was. I couldn't believe it. I took my hand back, not wanting it to linger and make things awkward. Awkward was something I didn't need with my first human interaction in months, maybe it had been close to a year, or even over. I had lost my perception of time a while back.
"How..." I didn't know what I wanted to ask. "How did you survive?" He shrugged and poked at the fire with a stick. "I say luck of the Irish to give myself a small chuckle. But I believe everything happens for a reason. Like how we're sitting here now. There's a reason for that. Everything in the universe is mapped out, every single tiny detail is written in time. I didn't believe any of this hippie stuff when things were still normal. I've had a lot of time to think things over by myself though." I nodded, maybe he had a point.
"I'm Dark by the way." I said, holding out my hand. He shook it. "I'm Anti." We talked for a little while, sharing small details about ourselves. He had come from Ireland to Amercia to finish college when the nukes hit. I was just sitting in California playing video games. We stayed there for the rest of the night to sleep. The fire burned itself out by morning. I laid there on the ground after I woke up, the morning air was dry and muggy, and Anti was still snoozing. Turning my head to the side, a flash of purple came into view. A small flower. A flower? How? I reached out and pet one of the soft petals with my finger. It felt too real to be some kind of mirage. I sucked in a ragged breath and coughed into my hand. Blood speckled my hand once I pulled it away, along with a chunk of something. Gross.
I knew I didn't have long left. But I took Anti's thoughts into consideration. Everything happens for a reason. I don't know if I believe that or not, but I do know one thing. I believe in the one thing that has kept me going through this hell. Hope.