2136: A Post-Apocalyptic Novel

by Matthew Thrush

  As Parker scooted me down the tunnel, I looked back. The metal hatch door held the rising tide at bay while we walked in safety. Safety is relative, I thought. Death was always trying to bring us to our knees and take us to the other side. It had almost won. It was only a matter of time before that cold hand succeeded in pulling me to the afterlife.

  ‘Not yet...’ I whispered under my breath at the door holding back the claws of Death. ‘One day you'll have me, but not yet.’

  The trek back to the main living quarters was torture. Parker basically dragged me the entire way. We turned around the final bend and the cavern opened back up. Parker led me over to one of the stone beds carved from the wall, and toppled onto the ground himself.

  He had sweat pouring from his forehead. His silver hair clustered together in knotted strings, which hung in front of his eyes. He was hunched over, catching his breath.

  ‘Thank you,’ I said.

  ‘You're welcome,’ he said.

  White steam was evaporating from his scalp and neck while he sat propped up against the cold wall.

  ‘Was I that heavy?’ I asked with a hint of sarcasm.

  Parker held his breath to keep himself from gasping and looked up at me. His blue eyes were bloodshot.

  ‘It's okay, you can say it,’ I said. ‘I'm a handful.’

  I heard him let out a deep, shallow breath and stroke the loose strands of hair behind his ears.

  ‘That's for sure,’ he finally answered.

  I managed a quiet giggle to try and lighten the mood. It's not every day you come back from the dead. The memory of the bright warmth of the light lingered in the back of my mind. I had so many questions running through my head. Was I truly dead? Was that what the afterlife was like? Was that heaven or hell? Or was it all a chemical reaction within the brain that gave me those acute illusions due to brain hypoxia? Some neuropsychologists claim that the near death experiences and the wonders people saw on the ‘other side’ were merely caused by the coupling of gamma and alpha waves in the brain. According to their research, immediately following death, the brain's neurons shoot off synchronously in a higher rate than normal. They say the coupled increases and frequencies of the alpha-gamma waves are what cause the experiences after death, since those two brain waves are a feature of visual awareness, which also involves internal visualization—imagination. Whether it's true that the brain after death suddenly has a bolt of consciousness streaming through it has never been proven.

  I'll stick to what I know. I know how I felt; I know what I saw; and I most certainly know that it was unlike anything I've ever experienced. That's a fact.

  ‘You're a good man, Parker,’ I said. ‘I'm glad you came back.’

  He placed his hand on my dangling foot.

  ‘Me too, Willow. Me too.’

  I had died and survived to tell the tale, so what now?

  ‘What do you think is happening up there?’ I asked.

  Parker leaned his head against the wall and closed his eyes.

  ‘I imagine it's the same as always; people scraping for food, barely getting by, and under the scrutiny of the law.’

  ‘You're so optimistic,’ I joked, but part of me was serious.

  ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘I'm just tired.’

  ‘It's okay. I agree with you. The world we live in isn't a pretty place. No need to sugarcoat it. It is what it is and we do what we must to survive. The Pavers killed all those people,’ I said. ‘That can't go without response. Don't you think?’ I asked.

  ‘Mhm,’ he moaned.

  ‘Parker...’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Can I ask you something and you be completely honest with me?’

  ‘I'll try,’ he said.

  ‘Why did you have those grenade pins? Did you set them off?’

  ‘To answer your second question, no, I did not set the bombs off. But, why I had the pins isn't quite as straight forward.’

  ‘What do you mean? You said you found them.’

  ‘Yeah, I did,’ he said.

  ‘So what's so complicated about that? It's not like you pulled them off a dead man's fingers, right?’

  I chuckled, but Parker never responded.

  ‘Right?’ I repeated. I turned my head to look over at him. He was staring at the palms of his hands as if he was looking at them for the first time.

  ‘Parker?’

  ‘I couldn't save him,’ he finally whispered.

  ‘You couldn't save who, Parker? What are you talking about? Who couldn't you save?’

  I sat up and propped myself up on my elbow.

  ‘I promised him I would save him, but I couldn't.’

  ‘Parker, you're not making any sense. What are you talking about?’

  He looked up at me. My own breath caught in my chest. He looked dead.

  ‘I was there when it happened,’ he said. ‘They needed my help and I couldn't do anything.’

  ‘It's fine. None of us knew the bombs were going to go off. There was nothing any of us could have done. Don't blame yourself for their deaths. It's no one's fault but the Pavers. They did this.’

  And they will pay for what they did, I thought.

  ‘You don't understand,’ Parker snapped. ‘I killed them!’

  He jumped from the wall, inciting a jerk of my own.

  ‘Calm down, Parker, and tell me what you're talking about.’

  He continued to pace. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest. Yup, it works all right. I moved to a sitting position and hung my legs over the edge of the stone bed.

  Parker’s hands were fiddling with the fray of his pants. He kept bringing his nails to his lips and biting them.

  ‘Parker...what's wrong? You're starting to scare me. Why don't you sit back down?’

  ‘I can't...I tried, but I just couldn't. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.’

  Parker continued to talk to himself. Maybe I wasn't the only one who had undergone a near death experience. I had thought he was coping well with the trauma of all the people who were killed, but apparently it was all erupting to the surface all at once. My stomach twisted into a knot as uneasiness settled in. Parker was clearly having a panic attack and nothing I did or said would help. He'd just have to ride it out. But that wasn't what got my blood boiling and my nerves on high alert. No, what he was doing, what he was saying or not saying, it all kind of made sense. Yell, scream, curse, punch walls or break something—I could deal with all that; that was normal. But this—this stagnant indifference within me; this lack of feeling or caring, of feeling anything...terrified me.

  I was so wrapped up with my own demons that I hadn't even noticed Parker stop pacing. He was standing there motionless, staring at me like he had seen a ghost.

  ‘Parker...are you all right?’

  Okay, now he was starting to scare me. I backed away. Some people have been known to get so caught up within their own hallucination that they don't know what's real or what's just part of their imagination.

  His chin quivered as he tried to speak.

  ‘I'm sorry,’ he mumbled.

  ‘It's okay,’ I said. ‘I'm sorry too. But it'll be all right. We'll get through this together.’

  His face crumpled as though he was about to start crying again.

  ‘Please don't cry,’ I said. I slid from the table slab and took his hands in mine.

  I looked up into his eyes like my parents used to do to me when I was afraid or hurt. It felt strangely good.

  ‘I'm sorry, Willow. I swear I tried, but I couldn't save them.’

  ‘What are—’

  He waved his hand to cut me off.

  ‘I have to say this now. If I don't, I may never get the chance again.’

  ‘Okay.’ I leaned against the stone slab and stuffed my hands in my pockets.

  He wiped his nose on his sleeve and rubbed the tears away from his cheeks. His hands stopped shaking and his chin solidified into a stern expression when he next looked at me.

  ‘Your parents
didn't die in an explosion,’ he said. ‘I killed them.’

  ≈ Chapter 28 ≈

  ‘What!’

  Parker had his hands raised in defense.

  ‘Please, let me finish before you say anything. I need to get this off my chest. I've been holding it in for far too long. It's time you knew the truth about your parents' deaths—the truth about me.’

  I clenched my fists to keep my hands from shaking. For the next several minutes Parker's words floated right through me and into the stone behind me. My mind was racing in all different directions. What did he mean he killed my parents? Was he even my uncle? And if so, why would he murder my parents? And why had I been lied to all these years. What was going on?

  Something Parker just said caught my attention.

  ‘What did you just say?’ I asked.

  Parker fumbled with his words as he tried to recalibrate his train of thought.

  ‘Your parents weren't who they said they were,’ he repeated.

  ‘What's that supposed to mean? How could they be anyone but who they were? They were workers, just like the rest of us here on Earth. They struggled like everyone else to make ends meet; to provide the best life they could for their child. They were just Metallics and Sifters like the rest of them. They weren't anything special beyond that. So don't you try to tell me that they were something else. Don't YOU DARE say my parents weren't good people, that they didn't love me, that they were liars...like you.’ I spat the last word with disgust. ‘They loved me and they died trying to provide a better future for me.’

  My words were jumbling the more I tried to speak. The emotions were welling up inside and trying to break free. I fought back the tears. I didn't want to give Parker the satisfaction of seeing me cry.

  Parker sighed.

  ‘I know you don't believe me—’

  ‘You're right! I DON'T believe you. How do I know you haven't been lying this entire time? How do I know you aren't lying to me right now just to try and play another angle? Was that your plan? Try to get me to communicate with the outside world, to lure the Pavers to us? You want to get caught. That's why you carried me away when the bombs went off, isn't it? You weren't trying to save me. You were trying to save yourself. What did you do? You make a deal with the Pavers? Is that why you know so much about them? Are you working with them? What's your play here? What are you trying to gain by working with the enemy?’

  ‘Willow, please...’

  ‘Don't say my name!!’

  My arms were shaking. I slammed my fists on the stone. It took everything within me not to slap him across the face. I don't know why I didn't. It's not like there was anything stopping me from wailing on him. He was just standing there waiting for it to happen; his hands by his sides; head drooped to the side in a non-confrontational posture. No one would have been able to stop me. If I wanted to, I could kill him—bury his body in one of the tunnels. No one knew about this place. No one would even know he was missing. He was a phantom—a ghost—a fleeting moment in time that no one even knew about. Out of the sky he fell in my life, and back into the ground he would go. Puff! Just like that; like a flame blown out. I could do it...God knows I wanted to! Every fiber of my being wanted to lash out at this frail, old man, but I didn't. Something was holding me at bay.

  ‘Listen,’ he urged with a little more force in his voice. ‘I'm not saying your parents were bad people. Actually, I'm saying the complete opposite!’

  I glared at him, but I could feel my chest calming. The rage was subsiding, but I knew if he did or said something that I didn't like, I'd erupt like a volcano.

  ‘Go on,’ I said with hate in my tone. Try to see if you can wiggle your way out of this one, I thought.

  ‘Your parents were great people—selfless, giving, always willing to help others. You call them Sifters and Metallics like that doesn't mean anything. Being a Sifter or a Metallic is not a bad thing. Heck! I was a Sifter once upon a time.’

  I felt my neck twitch with curiosity. He must have noticed my skepticism.

  ‘It's true,’ he said. ‘I was a pretty lousy Sifter, though if anyone had asked me then I would have claimed I was the best. But it wouldn't have been the truth.’

  ‘Figures...’ I mumbled to myself.

  He paused for a moment, was about to saying something then thought better of it.

  ‘Before you were born, the world was a different place,’ he said slowly. ‘There was chaos after the wars. Hundreds of millions of people were killed during those years. Those who survived were the leftovers of a generation wrought with destruction, greed, and corruption. Once they died off, their children took the reigns of that dilapidated world on the brink of collapse.’

  ‘What does any of that have to do with my parents?’

  ‘Let me finish, please,’ he urged. Was that impatience in his tone? Was he seriously giving me an attitude?

  ‘During the years directly following the fallout of the wars, most of the world was destroyed or made uninhabitable. Many people migrated to the parts of the world still intact. As you might imagine, a place like New Jersey hasn't much land to spare. And what was left undamaged by the nukes and judgment of Mother Nature was quickly claimed by its new inhabitants. Sections all across the world were soon overpopulated and bad habits resurfaced. When the first bombs went off in Papua New Guinea, and three months later in Laos, Nigeria, France, and Nicaragua all within a matter of days, something had to be done before another war broke out and finished the job.’

  ‘I still don't see how any of this has anything to do with my parents. You said they were not who they seemed. What do they have to do with bombs going off in different parts of the world? What has the war wiping out most of mankind got to do with them? They were simple folk who minded their own business. They wouldn't have hurt a fly.’

  Parker's jaw twitched and his eyes shifted downward before he continued.

  Ignoring my questions, he said, ‘Reports came out later that the bombs in Papua New Guinea were funded by an underground organization called Whisper.’ He held up his finger to stop me before I got a chance to unleash more questions.

  ‘It also came about that this secret group was the lead culprit and mastermind behind the global war, and directly responsible for the millions of deaths across every nation. Of course, no one could prove this and the catastrophe that nearly made us all extinct was quickly swept under the rug and forgotten. When the first solar flare in 2088 pierced most of North America, the U.S. government was forced underground. Not too long after this SIND was established as a world governing power to regain control. Their main mission was to establish order, peace, and train people to survive in the new world. The EMPs really set us back hundreds of years. Everyone was dependent on electronics and most of the world was digital. When everything that ran on electricity was fried, it set off a panic. SIND's goal was to show people that it was possible to live in the new world without all of these necessities. It was rough at first, but over time the situation improved. When SIND launched its first Proc pyramid into the sky off the coast of New Jersey, hope returned to the land dwellers. Now they had something to strive for, something worth living for, something that reminds them of the life they once knew. The promise of a better future.’

  ‘Tell me something I don't already know!’ I finally snapped. ‘I don't need another history lesson. I know what happened. The bombs went off, lots of people died, and SIND magically comes to the rescue. Blah, blah, blah. I don't care! I don't want to know about the other two thirds of the population that got wiped out in the process. I just want to know about two people.’

  I felt like I could just pop. I couldn't stop shaking so I stood up and starting pacing back and forth.

  ‘Stop stalling and just TELL ME ALREADY!’

  ‘Your parents and I were—’

  ‘I swear, Parker, if you start telling me another story about something I don't care about I'm going to pop!’

  ‘Easy, young lady. I'm still your uncle. Sho
w me some respect,’ he said.

  I folded my arms and huffed.

  ‘Anyway. Your parents and I were making our way south. We had stopped in a small camp near Huntington, West Virginia, but soon found it was just as barren as the place we had come from. We stayed for a few days to catch our breath before we continued on. We crossed the border into Kentucky and continued south until we made it east of Knoxville. There was an old military base nearby that was taking in refugees or anyone who found themselves stranded. We joined the thousands that had already made their way into the fences. There were no spare tents or barracks, so we made camp along the perimeter of the base. We didn't mind though. We were just glad to have somewhere safe to stay for the night. When morning came, everyone gathered into long lines and waited to receive their one scoop of stew. When we finally got to the front of the line, the scoop was mainly salted down water. They ran out of hard bread and just gave us an MRE pack to supplement. Grateful to have a hot meal, we thanked the soldiers and walked back to our tent to enjoy our meal. On our way back we overheard some of the other soldiers talking about a fortified establishment in New Jersey, SIND was looking for recruits to start up a new program to bring the economy back. “They have warm beds, clean clothes, and even hot water to take a shower!” one of them said. “And more food than you could dream of,” said another. When we got back to our tent, your father asked what we thought. Your mother was quiet and didn't say much, but I told your father I thought it might be worth considering. He asked your mother and she gave the same reply she always did in those days, a shrug of her shoulders. It was settled. We were going to New Jersey. That next morning, we packed up our tent, got our morning ration of hot, unflavored water, and headed northeast towards the coast.’

  Parker paused to make sure I was following.

  ‘What kind of program was it?’ I asked.

  My anger had subsided slightly, just enough for me to interact cordially.

  ‘Construction,’ he said. ‘The new government needed builders and laborers. Your father and I figured we could lend our services, and your mother would do what she could. When we got there, however, it was a totally different situation.’