The End - Visions of Apocalypse

Tim slowed as he approached the tree line that held his snares. He could hear the laboured breathing of something hidden from view. Something large. Tim hesitated. He had set his traps in the hope of catching a rabbit or maybe a fox. This was neither. Peering through the dense birch branches, he saw his family’s saviour. A moose six feet tall and weighing at least a thousand pounds was struggling to free its leg from a snare fixed to the base of a tree.

Twenty yards away was an animal that would keep them fed for months. Tim stayed behind cover, knowing his presence would scare the animal into frenzy. If the thin cable broke, Tim and his family wouldn’t survive the week. He struggled to pull back the fifty pounds of pressure loaded on the compound bow; months of travelling south towards the equator had stripped the muscle from his body.

Tim felt the bowstring relax into position. He stared down the bow’s sights; the arrow’s fletching brushed his cheek. The liver or lung, either will kill it quickly. An easy shot, Tim thought. But never had the stakes been this high. He steadied his breathing and stilled his shaking hands. A second later, he loosed. The moose staggered up, frenzied with pain. Its attempts to run were hard to watch, but Tim would not feel remorse for something that would save their lives.

The animal fell to its knees again, breathing in an unsteady and laboured rhythm that sent plumes of steam into the air. Finally, it collapsed and the morning became silent once again.

Tim left the carcass and scrambled back to camp, snow sinking under his feet. The military had taught him to be prepared, and prepared he was. Back at the cave lay a timber sled, a necessity that had helped transport their supplies over a land of snow, ice and little else. With a rope tied around his waist, he could haul hundreds of pounds of meat and the entire hide; a prize he’d almost forgotten compared to the hunger that wrenched his stomach.

With sled in tow, Tim hurried back and set about skinning and gutting the animal. The dripping blood was forming an icicle beneath the arrow wound. He would have to be quick to beat the hardening skin.

The work helped keep Tim’s mind off the cold and his thoughts turned to his wife and son. Christine and Jake were both malnourished and exhausted. The journey south—fleeing from the relentless expansion of the Arctic Circle— had almost killed them. Tim had lost at least sixty pounds himself, although the layers of clothing hid it well.

The sun crept over the horizon to the east and the expanse of snow and untouched wilderness, sparkled in its warm light. For more than a year there had been nothing but snow, heavy clouds and thunderous storms. Tim smiled for the first time in months as he looked at the endless, empty blue above. The retired marine began to laugh, uncontrolled and unbridled, fuelled by the relief of knowing he had provided for his family. Their goal of reaching Mexico by the month’s end was becoming a reality. Even the weather looked upon them kindly.

Once the moose’s hide was removed and rolled, Tim used a wood-saw to quarter the animal. The steel blade hewed through large bones and cartilage as easily as it did firewood. The sun was four fingers into the sky by the time Tim had the rear quarters and hide secured to his sled. Almost half the moose would have to be left behind. He simply did not have the strength to drag so much. What remained, he buried, hopefully deep enough to be out of reach of any scavengers.

After a final check over the area, Tim fastened the lead ropes around his waist and started west. The load soon had him sweating beneath his many layers, but he cleared his mind of the discomfort and focused on controlling his breathing.

Tim felt the flint in his jacket pocket as he trekked on; the stone was wearing down from constant use. Lighters and matches where a thing of the past. After the first month of the Great Freeze, it was common to see people killed for the simple tools needed to create fire. There was one rule that any survivor had to adopt. Never let the flames die down.

Everything had changed so quickly. The veil of humanity had been ripped away, revealing an animal’s greatest inherent characteristic: the will to live. Survivors became scavengers and then murderers. Tim was forced to become a part of this new constitution or fall victim to it, alongside his loved ones.

He remembered a time when life’s decisions were trivial things. What should he have for dinner? What gifts to buy his children for Christmas? Should he go to the range for afternoon shooting practice? Now, the wrong choice would send his family to the heavens. But, he had hope. As quickly as the world had turned to shit, they had survived, when most were dead.