Genesis

Heaven-Bound

     It didn't occur to me that I was having a panic attack until the guy holding me in his arms said it out loud. I could barely hear his assurances that everything was okay under the sound of hot whistling blood rushing past my ears.

     "Quinn, that is your name, right?" he asked me.

     I tried to move my lips to produce something coherent but all that came out was a chafing breath. He continued to speak.

     "What school did you go to?"

     I was so surprised by his question that I forgot about my current situation for just a second, before it all came crashing back again.

     "W-What?" I mumbled.

     "You heard me, what school did you go to?" he asked again, still holding me.

     I actually had to think about it for a moment before I could manage a strained reply.

     "Berrywood," I sputtered.

     "So, you're some kind of rich genius then?" he asked me.

     The images of the blood-soaked kitchen flooded back into my mind. I buried my head deeper into my knees.

     "Umm... what about family members? What's your mom's name?"

     I let out a sob as an image of her flashed in my mind. Her gaze was fixed on the ceiling. I screamed at her, but her eyes didn't move an inch.

     I was brought back to the woods when I felt a squeeze on my hand.

     "When's your birthday?" he asked.

     I held my breath before muttering, "September... eighth."

     "Hey, mine's close to yours," he said, trying to incorporate a sense of cheer into his voice, "Do you want to know when mine is? Go ahead, ask me."

     I held my breath again, then mumbled, "When's your b-birthday?"

     "September eleventh," he stated.

     I coughed up a nervous laugh, "Y-You're not serious," I told him.

     "Yeah, I know," he said, "It's a pretty shit day to be born."

     Before there was a chance for silence, he distracted me with another question.

     "You like ice-cream?"

     I would have laughed at the absurdity of the question had I not been struggling to breathe.

     "Yeah," I breathed out sharply.

     "Me too. What's your favorite flavor?"

     "Strawberry mint," I said almost coherently, noticing that the ringing in my ears was quieter and my breathing was slowing down.

     "I just like classic vanilla," he told me, "It's a damn shame that the world ended. Think of all the ice-cream that will go uneaten."

     The pain in my chest was almost gone now, and my heart started to slow the more that he asked me simple questions and the more that I answered them until soon enough, I could speak without feeling out of breath. After some time, it occurred to me that I didn't know his name, so I asked him for it. When he didn't tell me, we moved on to other mundane topics of conversations until I was finally, completely calm. Well, as calm as someone can be when they're waiting for their inevitable death.

     "Hey, guy?"

     "Yeah?"

     "Do you think there's a heaven?"

     There was a pause.

     "I don't see why not," he said blandly, at which I forced out a laugh.

     "That wasn't very convincing," I told him.

     "Neither was that laugh."

     I bit my lip and closed my eyes, telling myself I needed to find something I could say to fill the sudden silence. Before I had the chance to speak, Cindy's face popped into my mind, and I thought back on her life. She grew up in a loving family, was popular in school, had many friends, and dedicated herself to others. Over her 17 years of living, she accumulated so many experiences and met so many people, somehow shaping her to be a one-of-kind, carefree, and selfless friend. She was an individual. She was a person.

     And, after all that, due to a series of events lasting just under an hour, she was gone. One second, she was a person who had barely even lived, and the next, she wasn't anything at all. A husk of what she used to be, filled with rage and desperation.

     I don't want to become that thing.

     Before I had made the decision to move my lips, I found myself saying, "I'm probably going to die soon, and then I won't be anything at all."

     I think he looked at me with some form of concern, but then again, I couldn't see his face, so he could have just as easily been looking angry or emotionless. He finally spoke.

     "What were you even doing out here ?" he asked bitterly. I forced another laugh.

     "It's the funniest thing. I was looking for the squat pits," I told him, "What a way to die, right? Looking for a literal shit-hole? I wonder if they'll write it on my tombstone--."

     I was then hit by the sudden realization that I would never have a tombstone.

     I released the breath I was holding, "What about you? You're a part of the Indus Correctional camp, right?"

     "You could say that," he replied in a low voice.

     "So then, what were you doing all the way out here?" I asked him.

     He stayed silent, before finally deciding to confess.

     "I was going to leave."

     There was another deep silence as I waited for him to continue. I thought I heard him breathe in a couple of times, as if about to speak, but then decided better of it.

     When he looked away, I asked him, "Why?"

     "So-I-can-survive," he blurted out, as if waiting for the very second I would ask him.

     "Whatever happened to strength in numbers?" I asked with a strained chuckle.

     "It's just that..." he started, thinking again before he spoke, "The others, they're not going to make it."

     "They might."

     "But they won't ," he stated, before inhaling and starting again, "The way that the situation is now... I just don't see a way that any of them are going to survive. I mean, sure, things have calmed down since Dorian took charge, but rations are still low and he's barely able to keep the peace with everyone trying to murder each other over food and water. No matter how much we hunt, it's never enough, and Dorian refuses to tell me where the trucks are so we can go further out where there might be bigger game."

     He paused before continuing, "People have already died. That keeper, two kids... and even if Dorian changes his mind, it's just a matter of time before we become too weak to move. And by then, it's too late."

     "So then, why did you stay in the first place?"

     "I don't know... I guess I had hope, or thought I had a place here or something. Even though I helped out with hunting and setting up--... they're all the same. I'm not responsible for them. We all got the same odds, so why should it matter if I do exactly what they want and leave them be?"

     He took a deep breath and tilted his head upwards. I wondered who exactly he was trying to convince with that speech as I observed the streams of moonlight cascading off of his strong jawline, also revealing a pair of icy eyes that seemed to glow against the darkness of night. I decided to mimic him, moving my gaze to the skies. My breath was taken away by what I saw.

     I smiled at the spattering of shining stars littered across the sky, defying the blackness that encompassed the world.