Zav ran out of the office and swung open the door to the stairwell. He slid down the railing and jumped out of the building, tripping into the street. There were rebels everywhere, but many of them were retreating. He held his rifle at his waist and pulled on the trigger, picking off the rebels who stayed.
It felt particularly different from the murder he had just watched, but he fired until his gun clicked. Then he simply grabbed a gun from the ground and continued—unphased and unhurt.
He looked back. There were mounds of bodies at the intersection and the American tank was destroyed. There was a low hum of distant engines, but it did not seem that any group was going to pass the intersection in case another was waiting around the corner.
Zav tried again at his headset: “Ryker, do you read me?”
“Oh, yes. I just couldn’t hear you before because of all the background noise. Our live map is showing massive casualties. The streets were destroyed completely. Many buildings are part of history now. I can see more Russian soldiers on the way from the north. Rebels are still holding their ground in some parts of the west. Our men have regained control—Jesus Christ. Men, move! Move! Zav, get inside! GO!”
Zav ran back into the building he just left before asking, “Ryker, why?”
“Get inside! Get into a basement! Secure everything! I might lose connection, we are all moving into a secure location—”
“Tell me why!” yelled Zav in response.
“Because we can see a half dozen bomber planes flying over the city from the north! They’re going to decimate the city—”
The communication ended. Zav searched the building for a door that might lead to a basement.
After no luck, Zav ran out of the building and into the next. He kicked open the door and sprinted, opening every door he could. On the left side of the hallway, a door opened to a dusty staircase that led to a dark basement. He trotted the steps and used his phone as a flashlight to find something to hide under. In the middle of the room was an old foosball table.
Zav tucked himself under the table and crouched in a fetal position. His hands wrapped around his head as if they might protect him if something fell on top of him.
His headset came to life for a split moment: “They’re going to bomb the capital. Then the rest of the city. Say your prayers Xavier, it’s all ove—”
There was an awful noise from the headset and the call cut out. Zav shivered as he imagined the bombs dropping and hitting; the image of the White House being torn apart—
“Sorry, a soldier closed the door and I lost connection. You probably heard him slam it. Anyways, we don’t know how strong of bombs they’re going to be dropping—certainly not atomic—but it’s going to wipe the city from the map. I wouldn’t even be surprised if they followed it up with a brutal second attack just to make sure they get their point across. But Zav, do your best to stay alive. You are the last hope for the world—I know it sounds weird coming from me, but you’ve come this far, and with your determination, I think you can go a lot further.”
Zav closed his eyes to prevent them from dripping tears. “The end of all times—I’m ready to face it. Let it come, I say. LET IT COME!” Zav whimpered, still with his face between his legs.
He felt the earth shake when the first bomb hit.
Chapter 23
Dust shimmied off of the foosball table. There was a slight rattling in the room as the shockwave rocked the building. China and ornaments fell from cupboards and old picture frames fell off their hooks. Zav winced at the clattering of the showering objects around him.
A second bomb hit, shaking the basement and bouncing Zav on the concrete floor. Then there was a consecutive third one, and eventually a fourth. Each felt a little different, first very distant and then closer.
From the sparing use and extreme shockwaves, Zav could tell these were massive bombs. He was certainly safe from them from where he was, but exactly how many more bombs would be dropped was in question.
He held his breath for a moment, calming his nerves. His heart rate slowed and he relaxed his muscles in an attempt to stop shivering. The harshness of the concrete was becoming uncomfortable against his elbows and knees. It did not help that he was endlessly being rattled.
He closed his eyes in an attempt to drift away from the reality he was forced into. His heart beat slowly, loudly, irregularly, in rhythm with the world collapsing around him – the world he had fought so hard to save. He clenched his fists for a moment to relieve the stress he had built up from his motionless sitting, and then relaxed.
It was at this moment that he realized he no longer had his computer with him. If he was killed in action, his entire life would be a forgotten relic that nobody would ever discover—that was exactly what war did to people.
Millions upon millions of people all across the world were dying in the largest conflict in the history of the planet. But of course, it was humans killing humans.
From the beginning of time, man was dominant over the Earth, Zav thought. Man had conquered every battle, every terrain, every corner of the world. And in more recent years, colonization of Mars had begun. Of course, it would have worked if the biosphere the voyagers were using was not torn in a dust storm that left ninety colonizers dead.
But through everything, man had triumphed and continued to not just stand, but had progressed. The human race had designed war and made sure to use it to their benefit in every aspect.
War is instinctively inside of every animal on the face of the Earth. Humans adapted this craft to suit their purposes. Even the bacteria on other planets would consume each other. It was nothing unprecedented; but the strict difference between humans and animals seemed to be the humans rarely knew when to stop slaughtering their own kind.
Thousands of years of development of nations and evolution of the strongest beings and yet all it took were simple things such as different systemic ideologies and the advancement of technology for two men behind nuclear launch codes to end the world.
War is man’s best ally and greatest enemy. But humans pursued war endlessly, until entire cities were lost and individuals were forgotten. It seemed humans wouldn’t stop until the entire species was gone forever.
Some important political figures may be taught in textbooks in the future; but the many who fought so that one day there might be a period of peace will always be forgotten. The families, the generations, the bloodlines, the stories—memories—thoughts—prayers—lost in history. Who was killed in California during the first Russian attack? Too many to count; and so those people would never have a story or even a name.
But this was the well-known price of war. And that’s exactly why everyone wants to be a hero. Anybody could be an extra in a movie, but everyone only remembers the main character.
In his position of power, “Xavier Starr” was a name that everybody knew. But there were names that Zav knew too; whom he referred to as the secondary characters of the war.
Ivan had fallen early. He had lived a great life, only to be a forgotten name. After Ivan, Zav had discovered Lynyrd. Lynyrd was a man of limited dominance and lacked the courage to stand up against the toughest opponents. Nonetheless, he helped Zav in many different ways, and easily could be credited for Zav’s survival. If Lynyrd had not brought him along on the road trip—had not seen a good reason that stopped him from killing Zav—Zav might as well be rotting away in a ditch.
Despite his persistence to stop them, teardrops fell from Zav’s eyes and moistened the ground beneath him. Zav’s thoughts continued: he remembered Thor, the strong man and even stronger leader.
But there were parts to Thor that he would never know. Did Thor have a family? What were those pictures on his wall? Any memory that Thor once had was now erased...the only thing keeping him alive was Zav. The only thing keeping anyone from the past alive was Zav—as it would be for anyone; history lives on with us as long as we remember it.
Zav shuddered as he felt the shockwave of another bomb, t
he nearest yet. He could hear glassware on the upper floors falling and shattering.
Shattering like the lives of Ethan, Marx, Victoria, McConnell, Christopher, Jaiyana—too many people to count! And to think that every corpse on the battlefield had a life. A life full of moments never to be forgotten...until now...smiles that made the days of lovers, hugs that warmed children—and oh! The children.
There were many child casualties, Zav suspected. Not many were seen during his time here in Chicago, but it most likely could be explained by Darwin’s law: survival of the fittest.
Children were not fit for a war. Nor for mere survival. Chances were that many died early, not even given the chance to live a full life. But Darwin’s theory could easily justify many aspects of this war…
There was a time when hard-working Americans were the ruling class. But this mindset was not held on to as people no longer needed to work hard for reward—after the men who built America were figures of the past, this new age of freeloading and isolated young adults became the ruling class of America. But they were weak, fragile, and inconsistent with logic. Nature says they should have died off—but they lived in a society built by strong men and women of a different time and their ungrateful minds warranted the destruction of the United States.
It really is amazing how long into the war the misfit group of left-wing activists made it. Considering the class was afraid of weapons, messages on social media, and biology textbooks, it was a miracle from a God they refused to believe in that they were still alive.
Well, there was nobody alive now. If somebody had conjured the similar idea to hide in a building in the outskirts of the city—then Zav would not be the only survivor. But the Russian’s persistence in bombing the hell out of Chicago was strong-willed enough to make sure that buildings were rubble and rubble was crumbs.
Zav lifted his forehead from the ground, groggy and tired. Physically tired from the day, but also peeved at the countless bombs dropped. Zav was unsure what to expect when he returned to ground level, unable to imagine what a city might look like, being bombed after it was already destroyed. God forbid the Russians might attack with something else…
Zav counted to 60 five times, and realized there was a cease in the shellings. Zav rolled out from under the table and lay on his back, stretching his arms and legs outward. He shook and yawned.
Zav sat with his legs crossed, then transitioned to a squat, stretching his muscles slowly to prevent cramping. He straightened his legs and stood upright, bumping his head into a dangling unlit light bulb.
“Power?” Zav said, pulling on the string to the bulb. It did not turn on.
This was peculiar, since all household electricity was supposed to be solar powered. When solar was not used, or was not enough, in places like factories, government facilities, or even amusement parks, engineers resorted to nuclear energy.
Zav stepped on the first step of the frail wooden stairs, and it creaked mightily, causing him to recoil in fear of breaking the wood. He had not noticed this walking down the steps.
He applied pressure again and gasped out of laughter and fright as the wood broke beneath his foot. His heart skipped a beat and he took a moment before leaping up to the second step.
He listened closely for more explosions before grasping the doorknob and twisting it furiously, swinging the door open wide and bursting into the darkness.
The door clinked against a fallen brick and startled him. He looked around the building. It was intact, with minor damage from unsecured items. He rounded the corner and stood at the front door. He was reluctant to open the door, anxious about what he would find, and had to force himself to place one palm flat against the door and the other on the handle.
“Well, if this building is still here, then I can’t imagine it’ll be different across the street,” he said, and opened the door.
And so it was: the street was unharmed by the bombs. But there was a gust of cold wind out of the darkness and Zav looked to the sky.
The sunlight was blocked by smoke, ash clouds, and dust. Zav could see where the sun was by the soft glow around the edges of the thick clouds.
Given the amount of particles floating in the sky, the devastation of the city had to be enormous. Zav walked down the forsaken street and noticed many of the bodies had been moved against the buildings, as if pushed by the explosions. It made for a clear walkway.
Zav walked, stepping on dismembered fingers and expelled shells. Blood filled every concrete crack and the souls of the dead whispered in his ears—begging for mercy and justice.
It was rather uncomfortable to see the faces of the dead; open eyes that stared blankly, mouths open as if asking, “Why? Why were we the ones who were killed? Will anyone remember who I am?” and hands that reached out for help that never came.
He stood in the intersection. The Russian armored vehicles sat silently, their hatches open. It looked like the drivers and gunners had evacuated, obviously expecting something.
Zav watched the shadows move and imagined the Grim Reaper himself had come to feast. The glimmer of a golden object on the ground was the only warmth in this graveyard.
Looking around in the dim light, Zav searched for a skyscraper. There were none. That could mean only one thing: they had all fallen. And if they had fallen, then the center of the city was most likely a confusing mess of craters and glass remains.
“Oh! I wonder how the hotel is doing,” Zav said, scratching his chin.
Zav stopped in his tracks as he heard faint music. He turned his head so his right ear was facing the center of the district, attempting to pick up words from the strange song that played.
And then it clicked—he knew what it meant.
“Panic bells, it’s red alert.”
Zav continued to listen.
“There’s something here from somewhere else.”
Zav looked up at the sky.
“The war machine springs to life, opens up one eager eye, focusing it on the sky.”
Zav stared at the clouds.
“Ninety-nine red balloons go by.”
Zav stared at the glimmer of light caused by the sun against the clouds.
“Ninety-nine ministers meet, to worry, worry, super scurry—call the troops out in a hurry. This is what we’ve waiting for, this is it boys, this is war. The President is on the line…”
Zav was stuck in a trance with the world around him and the music began to fade from his ears. He was lost in a dream of a reality that had light gray clouds instead of dark ones, and a sun that was powerful and not hidden.
A noise brought his chin down and he stared ahead. His pupils dilated and his heart pounded in his chest.
He became aware of his surroundings.
“Ninety-nine dreams I have had.”
Zav’s lips parted.
“In every one a red balloon.”
His mind scrambled for an answer.
“It's all over and I'm standing pretty.”
He legs felt wobbly.
“In this dust that was a city.”
A gust of wind showered particles over Zav.
“If I could find a souvenir,”
He stared at a figure.
“Just to prove the world was here.”
His heart pumped.
“And here is a red balloon.”
His love pulled him forward.
“I think of you, and let it go.”
He saw his red balloon. He fell to his knees as Jaiyana wrapped her arms around him.
Chapter 24
She held him close. Her hands tenderly rested on his back and she cradled him like a lost child. He wept into her soft shirt and drooled against her stomach.
He looked up at her with dark and sorrowful eyes. His nose dripped and his tongue ran across his dry and cracked lips.
“Always with you,” she replied.
Zav stared at her. He admired her, absorbing her golden saint-like glow. “Do you hear the music?”
She b
ent down and kissed his forehead. “We all do.”
She placed her hands on his sides and pulled him up. He stood, feet shaking and knees too, with one hand rested on her as a crutch.
“I want to show you something,” she said, and slid her hand down his arm to his fingers. She pulled at him and guided him along the road.
They walked, hand in hand, for blocks, and Zav began to see the contrast between the outskirts of the city and the areas closer to the capital.
“How did you find me?”
“You were calling for me.”
They walked through the intersection with the tarp. To their right was the actual interior of the city, which Zav had not seen yet. He walked up to the construction tarp and held it with both hands.
With Jaiyana’s hand on the back of his neck, he lifted the tarp over his head and stepped into the new world.
Desolation. Destruction. Darkness. From the next block all the way to the lake was a flattened city. Buildings were reduced to mounds. Skyscrapers had fallen and made pyramids of messy debris. The endless craters made Zav feel like he was standing on the surface of the moon.
War never changed. But war changed everything. Hundreds of years of progress was reduced to the very dust that everything was made of.
Zav pulled at Jaiyana’s hand. They moved forward, wading through the millions of objects around them.
Zav stopped. He turned around and stared at Jaiyana. His mind was still racing, countless questions running through his mind. They rushed to his lips like they were racing. “How did you survive?”
“I didn’t.”
“Why are you here?”
“For you.”
“What now?”
“Reckoning.”
Zav felt satisfied with these perplexing answers. He faced the wasteland. It practically matched the firebombed regions of the city. Death—blackness—emptiness.
But this is what mankind brought upon itself.
The pinnacle of human existence was the very absence of humans. Was creating a creature that would blow itself out of existence nature’s way of restoring world order?
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