365

Isolation

Its light was blinding. Through a tinted eyepiece I was able to make out only mutated, decomposing bodies, discarded on uninhabitable land. We all looked on in awe of the beautiful destruction that had engulfed the place we'd been born and raised. Trees leant charred and leaf-less; air bubbles dried on boiling pavements, the tarmac of former roads writhed in anguish before dying a traumatic death moments later. We gazed, utterly mesmerised by the stark, dead view as the A.S.U marched in. I hid behind a mound of lifeless elite, praying intensely that the untouchables would notice them.

Unfased, they did not flinch. Children clung to their mothers, still not looking away from the red horizon, and the men held each others hands, rejoicing in this final experience before that same whistling of bullets rang out across the bunker. One by one, each man, woman and child collapsed to the floor, or what was left of it, as it had been concealed by the hundreds of bodies beneath them. Not a scream escaped them, no words - none recoiled in pain, instead they looked up. Towards an eternal paradise where they could be liberated - freed from the shackles of disability, fear and the A.S.U. I fell to my knees, my lungs paralysed, and my blood frozen. A silent whimpering was all I could muster, disappointed I couldn't join them. I craned my neck over to see the A.S.U officers pivot in unison and salute each other, some desperately tried to reason that they could find another facility, though they were swiftly  interrupted by a shot to the head. Without an utterance from any of them, they all inherently knew what to do. They each raised their guns to each other and without hesitation pulled the triggers. A deafening bang sent shockwaves through the dense air and the harrowing noise echoed in my ears.

I knelt for what felt like an eternity, completely numb. I was alone. Isolation crept towards me, slithering up my spine, leaving its bitterness at each ridge. Eventually, it had made it to my ear, where it spouted its insults and insecurities, chipping away at my naive optimism, until pessimism consumed me. Sulking about the bunker, I considered controlling, myself, the inevitability that was my death, and pondered living the remainder of my miserable existence in a hazmat suit. How was I to survive? Without food, water, medical supplies - not even a clock to tell me how long I'd clung to existence in this God forsaken place! I declared scavenging impossible, catastrophising every possible scenario that could occur. The dystopian abyss intimidated me - I hadn't been outside in years, and it had caused the demise of millions - whether directly exposed to it, or admiring it from the comfort of shelter. Impossible. It was decided, I would languish in the bunker slowly starving, every minute assuring myself that I would soon join those unfortunate souls in heaven. As I looked outside once more, the sky looked as if it had been lit by three suns - I half expected to see pristine white horses emerge from  each ash black cloud, reared by chariots  leading the apocalypse, finally ending the Earth's misery.

I wondered whether Kruschev was out there - Had he won? Was I supposed to be addressing everyone as comrade? I cradled my knees in room 72 pondering the current state of affairs - though I'd never taken interest in it - to temporarily alleviate my growing sense of dread...