Desolation

“Sure, Doc,” said Tex, pausing briefly. “Hey, thar’s your wife, comin’ towards us right now.” Rat naow.

All their heads turned to a group of three people walking their way.

Carrington recognized instantly the woman they called his wife, even though he had been widowed for four years now. It was the woman he’d found on the side of the road. She had short cropped hair, a confident smile, and although a little dirty from work, and still a little puffy in one cheek, she looked beautiful.

“Hi, honey. So glad to see you’re up.” Melanie leaned over and kissed him on the lips, and then hugged him. “I’m Melanie, I’ll explain later,” she whispered in his ear, away from the others.

Carrington felt more light-headed than he realized. “Ahh, hi” was all he could think to say.

“Come with us Melanie, if y’ain’t too tired. I was jus’ ’bout ta show the doc our railroad. He says he has an idear about defense.” Tex ushered them forward.

“Why not, Tex, I would love to.” Melanie took Carrington’s arm and they walked together, following Tex as they whispered their stories to each other.

Part II 40 Days A.E.

“I know not with what weapons World War III will be fought, but World War IV will be fought with sticks and stones.”

~ Albert Einstein

“Albert got it wrong—World War IV will be fought and won by those who found all the leftover guns.”

~ Maxwell J. Thompson

20. Revelations

Rocky Point, Mexico

Bill King found himself alone on their pool deck, a wide-brimmed straw hat shading his face, staring blankly into his own abyss. The bright sunlight didn’t bother him as much as this morning’s dark realization. It was almost certain Lisa and he would never see their youngest children, Danny and Darla, ever again. He leaned over the front of one of their two Adirondack chairs, his only support after a bout of tears. The sea winds, thick with humidity and ruination, anxiously grabbed at his muddled-gray hair, yanked at his Hawaiian shirt and partially clean shorts, and threatened to topple him with little effort. Struggling to even lift his head and see the new realities of this world around him, he realized this was no longer a place of solace.

The blazing sun had already scorched all hue from the morning’s normally blue sky, making it look almost overcast. Recently, the auroras seemed to provide the sole source of color, and then only at night. He pondered how quickly his beach paradise had changed. Only a few days ago, this place had filled him with such pleasure; now it was the realm of peril and death. Reminders were everywhere. The hulking carcass of the beached cruise ship remained unchanged, although it seemed bigger and appeared to have listed some. It was destined to remain for all eternity, a monument to all those who once played on her decks and in her galleys. The bodies of their four neighbors were gone the morning after it beached, most likely carried out by the high tide. Yet, he could see them in his mind’s eye as if they were there now.

Each day, more and more dead birds fell from the sky and fish washed up on the sand. It was now a giant caldron of rotting seafood, a silent dinner bell to dozens of locals, a smattering of small birds, and the hordes of feral dogs. Each day, they would come, all hurriedly carrying away what they could from the beach, intuitively aware that death visited this place often. What remained baked in the summer heat, made more intense by the radiation carried by each day’s solar storm. The acrid odor affronted his senses and made his eyes water. The fish were almost certainly being electrocuted, but the birds were another matter.