The Ruins Of Tomorrow

04. Their Last Goodbye

Everyday felt the same.

Run. Walk. Stop.

Like a cycle that wouldn't cease to end.

Sometimes we'd rest, other times we'd keep on moving until the sun would set. Sometimes we had food to eat, while other times we had to starve until we could find something if we were lucky. We were frantically low on supplies and not just food, but everything.

I was half asleep and sitting peacefully on a log when Thomas left my side for five minutes. I couldn't find the ground and it felt like my body had given up and it was hard to move. Thomas came back to my side jogging and huffing out loud like a puffer fish.

He helped me to my feet as I was completely exhausted and my head didn't want to stop spinning. It kept hurting and the pain was already annoying. Thomas had his hand gripping my wrist as we walked down a long path until we reached a wire fence.

There was a garage towards the far right of the small house. A bicycle was parked at the side of the house with its tires removed and the handle was broken. The boards squeaked by our steps, and the little house seemed isolated. A hardwood porch swing swayed back and forth with the wind; the chains were all rusted. Two of the windows were cracked. A breeze of chilly wind touched my arm as I peered through the glass. I slapped my gun against the window panes, waiting to see if any lurkers would pop out and follow the noise.

I grabbed the bottom rail of the window. My arms ached as I used my force to lift it up all the way. We waited another minute before climbing over the window and shutting it closed after.

"I think something went bad," Thomas said, lifting his shirt to his nose.

It was a narrow hallway from the kitchen to the living room. A fireplace was stationed in the middle of the wall, along with two couches beside it and a solid white table. Picture frames were crooked on the plain walls and stacks of old newspapers sat on the lonesome table with drops of dark blood on it. Some of the back windows of the house were covered with planks of wood and hammered with nails.

Thomas got situated and lit a fire for the night. He rubbed his red knuckles and lifted his palms towards the bright light. He moved the small table and made room to put his sleeping bag on the floor. I let him take his time while I checked the bathroom. It was the last room on the right side of the hall. Hoping to find extra bandages or medicine in the cabinets, I only found shampoo bottles and one roll of toilet paper I took back.

I shouldn't have looked forward to taking a quick shower after all. I don't know why I expected there to be water. Especially clean water. Like you'd forgotten you were in an apocalypse and try to turn on the bathtub faucet or sink and think water will come pouring down. I'd wonder if people just forgot that the world is completely different from before.

You'd think it's a normal day, wake up, make some coffee, press the button for the television. Oh, I forgot. Then you'll snap back to reality and remember you can't watch the daily news. You can't make your coffee because you don't have electricity. Most days, people wake up on a dirty floor, used or worn blankets, or a blood-stained mattress.

Waking up with little to nothing is normal now.

Before, populated cities had a water supply, working electricity, food, shelter. Anything you can name. Supplies were given out to those who had needed it. I doubted those places were still standing anymore. To have the luxury of gigantic walls, good folks, warm meals, and drinkable water that wasn't contaminated. It was rare to find that. Fortunate. Nine times out of ten, places like those were a disguise. A mask and underneath that mask is fear: and fear always turns against you.

It's what drives us to the edge.

I went back to Thomas and dropped my things next to his. I prepared the last bits of canned food that we had and we ate in silence. He tore a piece of a cracker and handed it out to me without asking if I wanted some. He didn't need to ask, and he didn't need me to answer him because even if I said no or yes, he would still share his food with me.