When Gods Fail

by Nelson Lowhim

  I still wanted to know exactly how it happened, but it seemed like a futile endeavor. The news stories Bill and Paul had shown me seemed either biased or unprofessional. But, I supposed, it didn't matter one bit in the end.

  The smell of flesh hit me in this moment of weakness, but instead of freezing, my body relaxed and I gripped the gun in my hand. Two seconds later I glanced around. No one. But the smell was getting stronger. I was close to a rise on the hill. There were some large trench-like grooves from erosion and I ran into one. Lying on my belly I waited with my gun aimed at the direction of the smell. Two seconds later a man and a woman appeared. They were following my tracks. That was something I would have to be careful about. I could hear them over the wind:

  "Did you see him?"

  "I tell you, look at the tracks, they're new," the man said in a voice that sounded like glass scraped against rock. He was small and skinny, with a face that sagged from having lost weight recently. The woman was also small, though she was younger, maybe in her thirties. Her voice didn't match her look, as it was low and gruff. Both had rifles in their hands. Their accents were not filled with the twang of the countryside. My heart beat in my throat. So far meeting people, though it brought a sense of elation at having found another human being, had mostly led to violence.

  Then, inside my head, the voice spoke up. If they were tracking me over a hill, one they could not see, why were they talking so loud? It defied common sense. I turned to see young man with a gun trained on me.

  "I got him dad!" the young man said.

  The barrel was intimidating, even after having so many trained my way. His accent, however, was soothing; it too was a school-taught and affluent voice. I could reason with him. "I am not a threat," I said and rose up slowly.

  "Don't move," he barked. The man and woman had arrived and trained their guns on me. "He was going to shoot you mom, dad. He was going to shoot you both. "

  A sneer crept across the man's face. "Is that right?"

  "No," I said. They seemed paranoid, but with reason. "I wasn't, I just heard you two and was scared.

  They all laughed.

  It was sinister. Like they'd done it before. I realized then that the parents walked as one to distract, then the son came from a hidden flank to finish off those who waited, like me.

  "This was a trap?" I asked.

  The young man smiled. "Let's see what he has," he said and pointed to my backpack. I threw it down. He went through it like a rat. "Oh mom, dad, he has whole meals!"

  "Are you guys from Portland?" I asked. Something inside me said that a family like this couldn't be cruel. They couldn't. God please tell me there's another way. The universe seemed to stand still to my plea.

  "Yes," the old man said, without a hint of emotion.

  "My wife was here in Portland. I was out of town. I just wanted to see if she was still alive." I thought I saw a hint of emotion in the woman's eyes. But she sneered. "Do you have any idea where she could be?"

  They laughed, and sent chills down my muscles. I tensed up. There was only one way out of this situation. My intestines churned. I didn't want to do it.

  "Anything else we can get from him?"

  "I can tell you where to get more food," I said, trying to iron out all emotion from my words. That voice inside was no longer a separate entity—it was me. They had to believe me, give me some time. I had read in a magazine once that the best time to escape was in the initial parts of a kidnapping. If I didn't do that now I would be toast. I thought of making it back to see Jenny. For some reason that gave me strength to move on.

  They all eyed me, trying to see through my mask.

  "You don't say. How much?" the young man asked.

  "Don't listen to him Anthony," the father said, in a tone that reminded me of my professor. "He's only buying time. Shoot him. It's your turn."

  The boy looked at his father as if he had some other thoughts then pulled his rifle up to his shoulder and pointed at me.

  "I'm not kidding you," I said, as calm as ever. "Water too, fresh, from a spring. I just shot two rednecks for it. You can't track it back. Only I know. It's hidden." The father looked at the woman then back at me as I spoke. "And enough food to last a few years." I shrugged my shoulders.

  My apathetic ruse worked and the young man lowered his rifle and looked at his father. "It seems to be the truth."

  "Listen." The father seemed angry with his son, but as he spoke his rifle lowered and his finger came off the trigger.

  I pulled out my two handguns. Fired them at the father. Then the son a split second later. Not sure where, but I heard the bullets hitting something. Each fell back, dropped their rifles. I trained my two guns on the woman. "Drop it. Now, bitch."

  She looked around, scheming.

  I fired a shot into the ground in front of her. "Last time I'm nice to you. Got it?"

  She threw it on the ground, started to shake. "We didn't mean anything. Really. We were just going to take your food and leave you be." Her voice cracked. Tears glistened below her eyes.

  For some reason, they stimulated a pleasant feeling inside me, like I could bathe in her remains and not care. I didn't like this. "Turn around. Shut up. Face on the ground. Hands on the back of your head."

  She got on her knees and fell to the ground.

  I moved over to her husband who seemed to be moving. A shotgun blast to his head stopped the movement. The son wasn't moving, but I added a shot to his face to be certain. It felt cruel. I reminded myself that their wounds were beyond repair. I threw all my food back into my backpack and threw in the men's weapons as well. Then I searched them for anything useful. All I found was a knife. The woman tried to look up.

  "Don't move," I said and walked up to her. I searched her roughly, feeling her soft curves. She was old enough to have lost the firmness of her body. "Turn."

  She turned to face me. "Please don't."

  I paused, then brushed off her plea. "Hands behind your back." It was a weird sensation: her tears, her pleas; they felt like power. I wondered if that was what my pleas sounded like to the others. It was at that moment that I thought there was no way that Bill let me live.

  My survival was destiny.

  "Please," she cried. "Please don't." She raised her hands to defend her face.

  "Hands behind your back."

  She complied as soon as I spoke, and I enjoyed the feeling that gave me—a surge from my balls to my head. I scanned the landscape to make sure no one would surprise me. "How many others are there?"

  "N-none," she said.

  "I see more tracks," I lied and pointed the gun at her face.

  "No, no one else, just me, my husband, my son." She let out another sob.

  I felt she was putting on a show, that perhaps this was all just an act.

  "You lot from Portland?"

  "Yes."

  "Why did you want me dead then?"

  "I swear we didn't. Just your food."

  The lie seemed like a taunt. I pointed the gun at her foot. "One more lie and I'll start hurting you. Got it?"

  She nodded.

  "Were you going to kill me?" I asked.

  She seemed frozen with fear.

  "What happened?"

  "What?" She looked confused.

  I glanced around. "The bombs, when did it happen; why did it happen?"

  She still seemed confused. "The bombs?"

  "Yes," I muttered, annoyed, wondering if she was playing me for more time, for me to get jumped by another son lurking somewhere.

  "A war broke out."

  "What do you mean?" I said through my gritted teeth. She was really annoying me.

  "I don't think so. It was all so quick. There wasn't much time to think. Then the nukes fell. And didn't stop for a whole day."

  "That's it?" I said.

  "That's all I know. We were camping. We got lucky."

  Worthless. "Okay show me where you live, keep your food and such." I motioned for her to get up.


  On her feet, she looked at me wearily. "Does this mean you'll let me live?"

  "Of course, I have no beef with you." In the back of my head I thought about how I had been lucky so far. By letting her live was I stretching that luck too far? A new beginning, I tell myself. Remember, it starts with you. The Bible comes back to me and I think about Jesus. I will have to win this woman over.

  She glanced over at the bodies of the two men in her life and shook; tears fell from her face.

  After a few seconds, I nudged her. "Move," I said thinking of their laughter when I had mentioned my wife.

  I marched her for a few hundred meters before she walked to a hidden trap door in the ground. I motioned for her to enter first. She seemed in a daze, but listened.

  The place was a dug out cave. There wasn't much food. I threw some in my backpack, which was full to the brim. It didn't seem like they would've survived for much longer.

  "Back out." I motioned at the ladder leading out. She walked out. I closed the trapdoor. Covered it with dirt again. It would be a good place to know in the future. I marked the approximate area, judging from the terrain, on my map. A sense of accomplishment splashed over me.

  We walked some ways away from her home.

  "Are you going to let me live? At least just tell me. I want to live," she murmured, as if she knew her words didn't matter anymore.

  A pang of regret. If someone had asked me what the first thing I would have done if the world was caught in a nuclear firestorm, I would have said: "Easy, get a group of people together and start building civilization again." What a fool I was. Who could I trust? This woman in front of me? Could I even trust myself? Part of me wanted to ravage her body, another part wanted to shoot her dead, and a small, almost silent part said to let her go. Maybe make friends with her. That last part seemed a fool's hope. I beat it down: this was not the same world. I couldn't trust someone who had just tried to kill me. No way. Don't be stupid; those were the ways of a world now gone.

  "Can you talk?" she said.

  "Stop. Don't turn around."

  She trembled in place.

  There wasn't much else to do now. It had to be now or never. I felt warm; a tender wind caressed my skin. The sky seemed to have opened up, and some sun touched the ground. Looking to where it landed I saw a green shoot. Life was starting again. Was it a sign from God?

  "Please," she said. She held herself and shook violently.

  This was a chance for a new beginning. Soon the world would need to strive towards a better future. It wouldn't be built on murder. Because that's what I'll have to do: murder this woman right here and right now. There were laws from before and they had been chosen for a reason. They worked. If people forgot them, then they forgot what it meant to be human.

  "Please, don't." She broke into tears.

  I remembered Big Lee. Now was my chance to redeem myself. "Turn."

  She shuffled around, her face contorted into a wail. I felt sorry for her. For the first time that day, I felt like she could've been Carol. If she lived through nuclear war, she could've been this lady right here, begging for mercy from another soul.

  I lowered my weapon. "I'll give you two choices. Listen to me." I waited for her sobs to stop.

  "You can join me, or you're free to go. You can go back to your house. Whatever. The choice is yours." She scrutinized me. I sensed her elation.

  "You're not kidding me are you?"

  "No." I tried to smile. It didn't come out right; at least it didn't feel like it did, because she seemed pained by it. Though she cracked a smile that seemed goofy. "You have to decide now, however, because I don't have time."

  She looked around, then back at me, as if she was coming out of a dream. "I'll come with you." She stared at her hands. "I have nothing else now."

  We walked in the direction of my shack for a few hours before she talked again. I let her be. After all, she'd just lost her husband and son. I hoped that me sparing her life, after I'd almost been killed, would show her the right way to live.

  "So how come you don't know anything?" she said as she slowed down and walked beside me.

  I didn't trust her completely, so I walked slightly behind her, made sure my gun was out of her reach.

  "I was spelunking," I said.

  "Cave stuff right?" she asked.

  "Right."

  "Your wife was in Portland when everything went down?"

  "That's what I think. Don't know for sure. You found me near where our house used to be. There's nothing. I can only assume she didn't get far. After all, even the countryside." I swept my arm to the ash land that surrounded us. "Got destroyed."

  "Yeah, they sure did put a number on us," she said and tsked. "Only satisfaction I get is that they got it worse than we did."

  "How do you know that?"

  "Don't know, only hope. After all, if someone survived, you think they'd have made it out here by now. Right?"

  "Right," I said, not really knowing.

  "Sorry," she said.

  "About what?"

  "Your wife. I'm sure you came out here thinking you'd find an answer. But there isn't one."

  I looked her over. She was a sweet creature. Whatever distrust I had for her wasn't warranted. "I'm sorry about your family. I really am," I said.

  She stayed silent for a second, looked away. "What's done is done. Now lets look towards something else." Her eyes met mine, and she gave me a brave smile.

  I knew then that she'd forgiven me. That plant had been the first sign. Her smile was another sign that things were on the right track. I placed my hand on her shoulder, squeezed it.

  "You a big hiker?" she asked.

  "Yes, love it." I looked at the sky. It was getting dark, and I wanted to find a protected place to sleep. "You?"

  "I liked the outdoors fine, my son and husband couldn't get enough of it. Guess it saved us in the end." She seemed to ponder her thought over. "Can you spare me a weapon?" she asked me in a child-like voice.

  "Well..."

  "In case we run into trouble. I want to be of help, not be a burden. I can shoot pretty well."

  "Yeah..." I said.

  "We're together in this right? So lets make the best of it. Come on." She smiled. "After all, you let me live, right?"

  I pulled out a knife and handed it to her. "This for now. We'll get you something better soon... My other guns I'm too attached to." It wasn't a bad excuse, because they had saved my life twice already.

  I pointed at a pile of rocks that looked like it could protect us. The sky had darkened fast, and I wondered if it would rain. "We'll sleep there."

  She nodded. "Good spot."

  Her agreement evaporated my suspicions. When we settled into the ground, I lay down in my jacket, my backpack to my side, hoping that it would provide some warmth. She lay near me, but not too far.

  The sun was crashing into the horizon, the clouds lit up across the sky, a firestorm from the gods.

  "It's beautiful isn't it?" I asked her, hoping the sunset would create a connection. Sunsets with Carol, had always been a perfect combination; a moment to stare at a dance of colors and assume that it was only for us.

  "They're all beautiful," she said, as if it no longer mattered, or never quite did. "After the war, they were all great. As if the sun knew that a world of people could no longer see it."

  "Yeah," I said stupidly, though I didn't agree. It seemed like a great sign of the possibilities that now hung around my thoughts.

  "Tell me, why did you let me live?" she asked.

  "Why not?"

  "No, really. You were going to kill me at first, but something changed your mind. I could see it in your eyes." She flashed a smile as she pointed at me with two fingers. "What was it?"

  Her eyes at that moment reminded me, for some reason, of Carol's, especially when she tried to tease the truth out of me. "Believe it or not I saw a light from the sky touch the ground and where it touched, there was a plant. I thought of new beginnings. I thin
k what happened to me was a mistake, a matter of circumstance. I shouldn't hold that against you." I looked at her face feeling somewhat foolish for opening up this easily. "I think we can start something great.

  "I do too," she said, rather quickly. There seemed to be a sneer on her face, but I was happy to have told someone about the sign. Night fell quickly and my eyes were soon drooping under their own weight.

  "Good night," she said.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I could see her darkened form. The voice, the killer who was gnashing at my insides for ever letting her live, took the reins and told me not to speak too coherently. Speak like you're almost asleep. I mumbled an incoherent "goodnight."

  With my other hand I grabbed the handgun, and held it tight. She had a nice face, I reminded myself, but the voice didn't care. I pretended to be in a deep sleep. But the rhythm of the air coming in and out of my lungs soon put a mask over my face and I was asleep.

  The sudden noise cracked my eyes open with a sharp tug. Something had made moved. Or was it a dream? The night sky was black. The land was black. I felt like I was in a tomb. I didn't want to move for fear of waking some monster up. I was a child again. I glanced around with my eyeballs. Nothing. No shapes. It had been a dream. I shifted ever so slightly and tried to see the woman. It was too dark.

  The flash of fear that broke into my visual field scared me to paralysis. In a split second, I twitched and shot the black air coming at me. Repeatedly. The knife in her hand cut into my jacket, but my shots impacted. She was a soft bag when she collapsed on me. Her chest torn open and warm blood flowed on me.

  It was still too dark to see her face, but I heard her breathing, could feel it on my face, the smell of rotten garbage.

  "A plant..." was all she managed to gurgle before her breathing stopped. Her voice sounded pleasant in that last moment.

  I kept her body close to me for warmth, but I couldn't sleep in the end. When dawn came, I set out for the shack. My strides were full and though I scanned, I didn't slow down to observe any of the remains of civilization. I remembered that I hadn't even bothered to know the woman's name. I realized that I didn't care what she was called. I had been a fool.