This is actually a dream I had one night. I woke up the next morning and wrote it all down, exactly as I remembered it. The dream was complete enough that I don’t recall having to even add anything to make it work as a short story (No need for adding segues, or embelishments etc) I have actually had quite a few dreams like this: All adventurous and full of story. If it seems like a weak story because of a lack of character development, or further insight or anything, well that would be because it wasn’t present in the dream. I’ve changed only one thing from the actual dream itself which I’ll state at the end.
I woke from a deep sleep and pushed myself up. I took a deep breath and looked around me, unsure of what to make of my surroundings. I was in a city. Probably a grand one. Huge. Some place of great significance. But it was not how it should be. It was in ruins.
I sat among rubble. Smalls fires burned around me, licking up whatever fuel they could. Beside me, part of a rolled train. A passenger train. I could not see the beginning or end of the train. The beginning was covered by a toppled building in front of my. It was likely thirty, maybe forty stories tall when it stood. Now it’s steel, glass and stone splendor were spread beyond my view. The back of the nearby train was too far away. The overturned vehicle was too long for me to follow.
I managed to climb atop a pile of rubble, using the exposed rebar to pull myself up. From this higher vantage point, I had a clear view of my surroundings. Everywhere, signs of a once great city. Buildings that once scraped the sky, now splayed across the ground in unceremonious fasion. The scenes of destruction and desolation were endless. I saw no end upon the horizon.
Is this the way the world is? It did not seem right to me. The world should be… I wasn’t sure. I could not remember what the world was like before. Before. I knew it was different. I knew this morbid scenery was not normal. I knew… green. Green fields and rolling hills. In my mind’s eye, I saw trees. Tall, emerald giants whose leaves rustled in the clean wind. Natural beauty found untarnished by man. But even man was capable of beauty and wonderful craftsmanship. Clean, smooth roads of ebony being crowded by devices of mechanical genius moving at great speeds. Structures of refined metals and tempered glass, rising in to the sky. Great buildings of stone, exhibiting artistic carvings and architectural mastery.
What was wrong with me? I knew this other world, somewhere in the deeper, fleeting recesses of my mind, but this… this is what I knew. What was before me. This is what should be, shouldn’t it?
Why didn’t I know? Why was I questioning my own memory.
Memory.
My memories.
What was wrong?
Nothing could possibly be wrong. I seemed strong and healthy. Nothing physically hurt.
Why was I strong?
My memories. Gone?
Could I… have amnesia?
I knew the word and the concept well enough. It was a thing I had heard about in… what? Where had I learned about amnesia? My brain was straining and stressing. The stress was starting to cause me a horrid headache. Pain settled in my head without mercy.
I can’t have amnesia. I know too much! I remember… I remember my… Family? I have family, right? Who doesn’t? Friends? Them? I don’t know. I had to have friends. A home. I have been well educated at… some school, right?
I began to stress. Sitting down on my large pile of rubble, I closed my eyes and tried to control my hasty breathing. Calm. Breathe. I needed to keep my head. Panicking would not help.
Although my head was pounding, as if some demon were inside it, hitting all the contents of my skull with a hammer, I decided to move. I wanted my memories back and sitting here, atop a pile of concrete would not help that happen.
I started walking. I don’t know which direction I went in. I had no sense of the compass directions. In these strange remains of a city, I had no sense of where any safe haven would be. I did not know where food would be, or shelter. I knew nothing of people, or creatures that might be here. The sun was even directly above me in the sky, so I couldn’t even use it for direction. Even if I could tell which way was which, how would I know if any was a better way to go than another?
I walked.
My journeying through these ruins was largely uneventful. I climbed over rubble. Through fallen buildings. Past vehicles beyond repair. All the while, I surveyed the surrounding city carefully. Some of the rubble had begun to be overgrown with ivy. Small trees had sprouted from deep fissures in asphalt and concrete. Foliage was growing where ever it could. No growth was excessive but it was enough to assume the city had been in this state for at least a year. Maybe more. Most likely more.
What was I doing all this time? How was I surviving in this place? Did I have some place to go to for shelter and food? Did I scavenge for my living?
I began again to unwittingly focus on my lack of memory. The stress headache crept back upon me. I didn’t even realize it had left before but now that it had returned, it threatened not to leave.
Focus. On anything else. Stop trying to think about the past. It’ll come back. It had to.
Focus on the present. Where am I now? A major business area at one point. It had to be. A couple, twenty story buildings were remarkably standing. One seemed almost completely in tact still. The other, large portions of the top half of the building were just gone. Down here on the street. Cars. Bikes. Trucks. Two buses, one rolled over.
People! I saw people! In that rolled over bus. Huddled in their own little alcoves. Just sitting there. Were they good people, trying to survive? Were they ignoble scavengers? Thugs, willing to take all I had? Or maybe people had resorted to a vile cannibalistic way of life? I walked close enough for them to see me, but I kept an eye on a nearby piece of rebar with a small bit of concrete attached to it. A good club. I needed to know if I had to fear these people.
A child looked at me briefly with empty, hopeless eyes. No spark of light. The child looked back down at the ground. The child’s mother held it loosely. If it weren’t for her occasional twitching and steady breathing, I would have thought her dead. She gave me no recognition as I walked by.
I saw people everywhere. They tried to remain in the shadows of nooks and alcoves. Amongst the rubble, protected from the elements. They were all over. An amazingly large amount of survivors. All these people were the same. In a near comatose state, oblivious to the world around them. What were they doing here? How were they surviving? A few of the people looked rather plump. They had to be eating well enough. But where were they getting their food?
The city was a labyrinth. Unsafe piles of rubble, toppled buildings, upturned vehicles, groups of unsafe people with dark intent in their eyes. All of these blocked paths and forced me to travel in certain directions. It didn’t matter. I had no particular direction in mind. I just walked. I hoped to find someone that I could actually talk to. Someone who could answer some questions for me. Someone who might know me.
A traveled through a pavilion of sorts that rested amongst several tall structures. Through the pavilion, past several, hopelessly depressed and self-secluded people and then through an alley, I emerged on to a wide street. It would have been just like any other, debris filled street I had already traversed except that this one had people that I might be able to talk to.
Two people was all, but they seemed to show more promise than any of the other, blank faced souls I had found. A man, middle aged and a girl about my age. My age. What was my age. I didn’t know for sure. Something in me knew I was in my early twenties. Again, the stress of memory loss. Not having any frame of reference for time. No past experiences to even tell me how old I was. I haven’t even seen a mirror or my own reflection that I could remember.
The man and girl. They were worked on what appeared to be a military helicoptor. A large, dark green beast with an overabundance of weapons. Its angled windows, sharp contours and broad propellers with its rusting color gave it a sinister look. The great mechanical contraption dared anyone to make a wrong move. It’s worn, faded, pieced together body, assembled from the scrap of the surrounding city spoke of experience and hard times. A killing machine made up of the bodies of its fallen enemies.
The man saw me approach. He smiled a warm smile that would make the most wicked of criminals feel welcome in church. His rugged, bearded face glowed with wisdom and betrayed a very good natured soul. His brown hair was gray at its roots and showed signs of grooming and failed attempts at a clean appearance.
He beckoned me to approach him and I was unable to resist. The words he spoke were soft and kind. They soothed the ears of any who heard but commanded a powerful respect. He asked me to help him and his friend finish the helicopter. It was nearly ready for flight, he told me, but just needed a couple more parts hoisted in to place.
While I helped him and his female friend finish the ‘copter, we spoke. Mostly about survival in the wasted city around us. The man spoke as if he knew nothing of me, yet talked to me familiarly, as a good friend or family member would talk to another they have not seen for some time. Even when asked directly, the man smiled and shrugged. I could not fathom whether he knew something he wasn’t telling or if he was genuinely ignorant. He certainly knew more about the world we lived in than I.
The girl was just as much an anachronism as me. She had no memory except for the last couple days. She woke, the same as I and met this man a day later. She did not even know her name. Her lack of memory was just as stressful for her as it was for me. She even found it more embarrassing. I could not discredit her feelings.
The mechanical monster was ready to fly, so the man told us. He ushered us inside into the machine. It was a very strange model with openings on either side of the cockpit where doors should have been. Me and my new female friend climbed in to the two seats, side by side up front. At the man’s instruction, we twisted some final wires poking out from the console together and the blades above us started spinning. They picked up speed quickly and the man explained briefly how to control it. His instructions were vague and left me and my friend with a deep fear as he left us. In his parting words, he said he had other things to take care of. He ignored out protests of being left alone.
This great beast, built to soar through the air and destroy, was to be piloted by two people who knew nothing about it. We were certain that pilots went through years of training for this. With nothing else to do, we held our breath and handled the various contraptions before us. It was the sort of military helicopter that could accommodate a pilot in the left and right seat. For some reason, it almost came natural to us both to get the helicopter in to the sky.
Memories. There were none.
We both seemed possessed of a skill that took large amounts of diligent training, and we had no answer to why. We not only raised the machine in to the air, but it came natural for us to maneuver between crumbling buildings, to fly close to but avoid broken power lines. Our hands guided the cyclic and out feet pressed the pedals of the complicated machine with expert precision. We both kept switching off who was flying, and we both felt at home in the machine.
I knew she had to be trying to remember just as much as I was. Hoping that flying would bring a flickering memory back of a flight school or a personal instructor or perhaps even military training.
Nothing.
My past was blank.
I asked her and she felt the same.
Nothing.
Her past was empty.
The headache was coming back. Stress was overpowering and a migraine was not what I needed while being suspended in the air by nothing but a set of menacing, whirling blades.
Below, we surveyed the city. It stretched on for countless miles. From our high vantage point, we saw only ruins. Tall buildings, that once stood a mighty fifty stories were now abandoned. Some toppled. Many reduced to half the floors they once had. A couple buildings were even leaning against each other, just waiting for the slightest tremor to send them falling to the decrepit streets below.
Bleak. Depressing. Hopeless.
The city seemed like one large expanse of gray and yellow rock. The sight of it drained all sense of hope and potential from the viewer. There was no hope in this place.
We flew low and took our time examining the scene around us. The lack of doors made it easy to lean out.
Below, a rolled train stretched for what must have been miles. In the shadows of the train were people. Soulless, hopeless, empty shells of life. Huddled in rags and papers, they seemed not to notice the loud, pulsating noise of our rotors as we passed overhead. A rare individual would look up out of feeble curiosity at the strange noise, but would soon look back down.
The sight of these pitiful, mournful people was almost too much. Something had to be done for them, but I was incapable of it. They could probably help each other, but they were so lost in mutual despair that they were barely capable of lifting a finger to feed themselves a meager scrap of scavenged food.
Looking at these morbidly lost, depressed creatures who resembled humans, my thoughts changed. I began to feel the care for how I got to where I am, disappear. It didn’t matter. Did not matter nearly as much as why. Why was I here? Why were these people here? Why was my friend, my co-pilot here?
The point of it all – what was it? What was the purpose of us and this world?
I could not question the possible absence of purpose. Purpose was there. There was a reason I was here and same with my friend. But what was it? What could I possibly do here?
I shook off the thoughts. They did no good. Progressed us to nothing. Instead, I flew the helicopter higher and focused on the machine that openly mocked the law of gravity. Me and my friend knew instinctively how to fly it, but there were many rigged controls about us that seemed unusual.
My curiosity bested me as I pressed a button near the main controls. The helicopter groaned and shook slightly. From our side shot forth a missle. It left a thick, white cloud in its wake as it soard towards a larger building in front of us. My heart sank as it collided with a large explosion, shattering what few windows were still in tact. Debris scattered from the impact and the top portion of the building began to fall.
There was nothing that could be done. The building soon collapsed. I could only pray that there was nobody in it and that none of those people, no matter how soulless or hopeless they may be, were under the wreckage I caused.
My stomach churned and I wanted to vomit. I let go of the controls of the helicopter and let my friend take over.
I had little time to mourn the possible consequences of my actions. A siren wailed, alerting whatever soul that heard it. Alerting them to… what? The siren… it sounded like an air raid alarm.
My friend started to panic as she saw what my self-pity refused to let me gaze upon. From near the wreckage that my thoughtlessness caused, rose a thin, long cloud. It was identical to the white trail of cloud left behind our missle. Someone or something was retaliating.
She flew the helicopter so well to dodge the oncoming projectile that her flying abilities were almost artistic in their own way. She flew our machine with such finesse that the missle nor any others that followed it were able to hit us. She outmaneuvered several of them with what seemed like no difficulty.
One missile came alarmingly close. I couldn’t tell if it nicked us or if my friend just made an excessively jerky movement, but the helicopter shook hard and tilted dangerously to the side. The harsh movement surprised me and dislodged me from my seat. I involuntarily fell towards the ground, flailing helplessly as my new found friend shouted after me.
I did not fall far, or at least it did not feel like it when I fell on top of a laid out, suspended chain link fence. The flexibility of the fence quite possibly saved my life, but the impact sent waves of pain through my body. The pain was so severe that I laid, unmoving for several minutes.
At last, I brought myself to move. The whiplash I experienced was horrendous. My neck and back were aching terribly, but I was at least able to move.
I looked below me, now curious about what saved my life. The fence I fell on was part of a cage-like enclosure made of fence. It enclosed the porch of a house that was still mostly in tact. Within the fence, sitting on the porch was a mother and two children and two other people. They stared at me with those dark eyes, but they were slightly different. Despair and depression seemed to make up their existence but deep in their eyes was a faint glimmer of life that was not present in all the other people I had seen. These five were surviving together. Barely. But they were surviving and they were together.
Above me, my friend had outmaneuvered the missiles and was circling the area where I fell. I was certain she saw me, but there was no place close by that she could land. I saw her fly away from my position. I assumed it was to land and come and find me.
I climbed off the fence enclosure and apologized to the occupants. They stared at me with their dark eyes, that faint spark of life haunting me. They trembled in fear as I looked at them and I found it best to let them be. I had no desire to antagonize anybody and my ordeal in falling from the helicopter had surprised and shaken them.
I walked away from the group, the family, and tried to walk the pain out of my aching body. I walked in the direction which my friend flew the helicopter. I was once again left to the lifeless city, alone.
Either the pain was actually leaving me or I was simply becoming numb to it in a hurry. I limped over piles of rubble, climbed over piles of cars, and over the train I had seen earlier, full of the empty people. Their brown and tan coverings that they huddled in almost caused them to disappear in their surroundings. Their lethargic stillness made most of them appear to be little more than another small pile of rubble.
I tried to speak with some of the people. I asked many if they had seen a helicopter fly by. Those few that actually looked at me only responded by shrinking back into whatever shadow they could find. Despair became mixed with deeply etched terror as the few that acted, scrambled to get away from me.
Were they actually afraid of me? Why would they be afraid of me? I was nobody. I was…
I was…
I didn’t know what I was. Maybe they had a right to be afraid of me. I couldn’t remember what I was before this day. I woke up only… It must have been morning. The faded, yellow sun had earlier reached its peak in the sky and was descending. It was certainly past noon, but I had no sense of any specific time. With the hours that have passed already, I had to have woken up early in the morning.
I couldn’t be what these people were afraid of. I felt too much pity for them. I felt like I should help them somehow. I couldn’t bare to see them in such a pitiful state. What could there be about me that would scare them?
I had trekked quite a distance without any direction. Only a guess based on where my friend flew the helicopter. While I walked, I kept scanning the decrepit environs for some sign of memory. Perhaps a building where I had previously slept. Somewhere that I might have lived. Maybe a place where I had scavenged for food.
Food. I just realized I had eaten nothing this day and the realization hit me hard. I needed to eat.
I crested yet another large pile of rubble and I shuddered with excitement. I was pleasantly surprised to see a wide, sprawling building assembled from the surrounding rubble in to what appeared to be a mall of some sort. It was bustling with people. Active, soulful, full of life people.
I laughed at myself as the primary thought that swam through my head involved eating.
I entered the makeshift mall and was swallowed in to the throngs of people. As soon as I entered, a darkness seemed to fall over me. A deep, sickening, foreboding feeling penetrated my skin and caused me to shiver.
It was the people. They were alive, but these… they were also empty. They walked about, lively, from stall to stall, trading in wares that were on display. Their manner of dress varied greatly. They all dressed in dirty, ragged, tattered clothes that were scavenged from the ruined city. But their eyes were dark. There was a inner, soulful, hopeful light missing from everyone. In spite of the physical activity in this crowded mall, despair was still master.
Without warning, someone grabbed my arm and pulled me inside a stall. The stall was dark, draped with heavy cloths, keeping all light out except for a single brazier. The coals glowed dimly, barely illuminating a very low table in front of me.
A deep, woman’s voice told me to sit. She commanded an ominous authority that forced me to sit on the floor for lack of any other place to sit.
The woman leaned forward from the opposite side of the table, the dim embers of the brazier lighting only a few lines on her face so that I knew that there was someone else in this tent like stall with me. It seemed like she was a larger woman, probably well in age, but it was impossible for me to know for sure.
She spoke powerfully, her words piercing me deep. I was different, she told me. There was light and hope. She expressed great surprise at my very existence. That one, who has not been overtaken by the ruin and despair of the city should be wandering about anywhere. The woman tossed several pieces of paper with indiscernible scrawling all over them and looked at them briefly then back at me. I had no past, she told me. I didn’t need any soothsayer to tell me that. She deduced that this had to be why I have not become empty like everyone else.
I got up to leave, having had enough of this woman telling me what I already knew and what made no difference to me at this point. Before I left, the woman laughed, catching me off guard. She told me to leave and build hope. But that in hope, my life would be taken. I left with her cackling something about thirty days.
I emerged back in to the crowded market and was swept up in the river of people. Unable to go against the flow of traffic, I was forced down the aisle of the decrepit mall where I had not yet been. The people pushed and shoved and abruptly turned, while I kept going straight.
The majority of the river of traffic turned down one direction of a four-way crossroads, leaving me standing at the start of a clearly less traveled part of the mall. I stood just far enough from where the crowd diverted their path to notice that not only was everyone avoiding this way I now stood in, but they even refused to look down it. Not one set of those empty eyes passing by allowed even a curious glance at me as I just stood there staring at them.
I turned and examined this other path through the mall. It was far from empty, but the people that roamed it seemed completely different. I walked down the stalls, all populated heavily. The clientele here was clearly separate from the streams of hopeless, despair ridden people. They dressed in dark colors, in attire made from the garbage surrounding them. It seemed they had clothing made out of black plastic, maybe from garbage bags, pieces of automobiles, tires, and other assorted parts I could not not even begin to name. They all groomed themselves in as extreme of a way as it seemed possible. Piercings covered their bodies, hair was groomed in bizarre fashions with even the women having portions of their heads shaved. Their bodies were covered in scars and stitches and tattoos.
I tried to get a good look at one man as he walked by me. His body… it… I could not believe what I was seeing. And he wasn’t unique. A strange woman had the same monstrosity for a body… Another man… Even portions of their faces… These people were all pieced together. The stitches and scars… they marked places where it appeared a person had lost an arm and replaced it with a new one. One man with dark skin had an arm and a leg of a man who was clearly of a lighter skinned ethnicity. A woman, dressed in a very intimidating manner had on arm quite a bit longer than the other. Another man walked with a limp as the leg that was clearly not his was shorter than the other leg, which might not have been his either.
These people were terrifying monstrosities, pieced together like Frankenstein’s monster. And their eyes… not dark and hopeless. Not empty and soulless like the others. But they weren’t hopeful, life filled eyes. They seemed to carry a living sort of darkness. A darkness that actually looked at me. They looked at me. These people did not ignore me. They did not interact with me, but their eyes seemed to smile with an evil smile as they stared at me. It was a dark, sinister hunger in their countenances.
I don’t know why, but I walked down this new part of the mall. I walked among these people who could not take their eyes off of me. I walked amongst their stalls.
The stalls… Without such heavy crowds, I could actually walk slowly and examine the wares for sale. The wares were just as bad, if not worse than the people themselves. One stall was selling knives and makeshift blades, many stained with blood. One selling syringes already full of liquids. I watched a couple customers trade a bag with mysterious contents for a syringe and immediately inject themselves. Another stall sold… I could not even look at it for any longer than what it took to identify. Limbs. Human limbs. The severed ends seemed to be in a casing of some sort and the muscles of the bodiless limbs twitched occasionally. Arms, legs, portions of either, and other fully enclosed containers that I could only guess held varying body parts.
I turned and decided to leave. I don’t know why I even stayed this long. It had to have been my curiosity.
A man tugged on my arm, getting my attention. He was a short man with a hand much larger than his body would naturally have. His face was pudgy, tattooed, and one of his eyes had a metal plate surrounding it.
He smiled and pointed to his cart. I gagged as I stared at his wares. The depraved man was peddling eyes. Human eyes that looked as fresh as if they were still in someone’s skull. They were wrapped in a sort of plastic that must have been keeping them somehow fresh. The man offered me a discount on any eye color if I traded my own eye for one. He even offered to throw in a free metal eye plate, like the one he had.
The depravity around me was too much. I began to feel dizzy. I had to leave. Had to leave now. Moving was starting to become a chore as my stomach churned and nausea overcame me. I stumbled and several of the evil eyed people, dressed in their black, makeshift outfits stopped. Evil grins spread across several faces and I saw a couple glints of metal in some of the misplaced hands. I was the prey. I was the latest merchandise.
I was jerked away as someone grabbed my wrist. I tried to fight back, but was too sick.
Whatever I was before I lost my memory, I was certainly not a surgeon as the sight of the organs made me too queasy and I was definitely no fighter. I was helpless against the pull of whoever had grabbed me. Their grip was too firm.
I perked up. Even though I stumbled and swerved at the whim of my new captor, I could feel something different. My head started to clear and I was able to get a look at the man that dragged me.
The man from earlier, the kind man, the one so full of life. The man whom I had run in to with the helicopter. He pulled me back in to the river of people in the mall. He pulled me against the flow of traffic. The people senselessly shoved against us. We were simply an obstacle in their way. The man expertly maneuvered through them, not letting go of my wrist. Elbows and knees shoved in to me, causing bruises that I knew would start to hurt later.
We emerged in to a larger room where there were fewer people. The few people that were in the room seemed to be in a riot. Several long tables stretched through the center of the room, upon which were a few small piles of food. The rioting people were throwing pieces of vegetables at each other while screaming obscenities. I could not even begin to fathom the cause of their behavior.
The man told me to grab some food as we passed, but not to slow down. I reached for what I could with my one free hand. I was able to shove some fruits and vegetables in to my pockets and under one arm.
After a couple more turns down some short hallways that seemed to not be part of the mall, the man let go of my sore wrist. We had exited the mall complex and I was back in the ruins of the city with none of the despairing, empty people around.
I didn’t know what to say to the man. I felt as if I had entered in on something I should have left well alone. I was embarrassed at having even entered a place of such depravity and filth and evil. I knew I should never have been there.
The man smiled and told me that he was glad I had seen that place. He told me that this whole world was in ruins. No city, anywhere on the planet had retained the splendor that it once had. Instead, all cities were like this one that we were now in and all over, people had descended to madness, to pure anarchy and had turned in to the horrid, immoral creatures that I saw. He explained that they peddled in people. They chopped them up for parts, for their crude, disgusting transplants. The people that they could find that were healthy and active enough, that did not end up being killed, were sold as slaves for both labor and other lascivious acts, and then killed for parts once their usefulness ended.
I could hear no more. This world was a nightmare. It was a wicked, rotten place which I did not belong.
The man led me through the city, only a couple blocks away from the mall. There, in a park full of dead trees, was my helicopter. My female friend stood outside it and relief spread across her visage. She hugged me with a heavy sigh and quickly pulled away. Next to my helicopter was another flying beast. It was the same military style helicopter as this one I had flown earlier with my friend, but with a few cosmetic differences based on the parts it was repaired with.
The man grasped my shoulder and told me that he will see me one more time, but the three of us have very separate paths to travel. He pointed off in the distance and told me that I need to go that direction. When I questioned, he did not explain further except that I would know what I had to do. He was just a friend and could point me in the general direction but he could not tell me exactly what was going on. He was not much better off than me.
He and the girl got in to the other helicopter, waved their farewells and left me to my own helicopter. With nothing left to do and no desire to stay anywhere near the mall, I climbed inside the green flying contraption and took off.
I soared through the air over the city, contemplating the last few events. The man said that I would know what I am to do, but gave no other answers. He remained cryptic.
With a sigh, I thought of what I could possibly do. I saw more empty people below me as I flew. I felt so drawn to them. I had to help them somehow.
The sun was beginning to fall towards some mountains at the edge of the city. Finally, I found some scenery other than constant, ruined buildings and decrepit cars and asphalt. The city ended abruptly on my right. Along the edge of the city ran a river. As the river ran in to the city, it disappeared in to a tunnel. On the side of the river away from the city, ran a tall, sturdy chain link fence. The fence ran the whole length of the river as far as I could see. I flew upstream of the river, feeling that something important was up this way.
After flying some distance, the river divided in to to branches. The main branch that I was following continued in a straight line, but another diverged to the left, running deeper in to the city.
On the outside of the fork, running along the branch and the main stream of river was a wide expanse of green field. It was a beautiful sight, that patch of green with the deep river next to it. The field didn’t appear to be a man made park, although it might have been a fair grounds at one point. I couldn’t tell for sure. The lone patch of green was cut off abruptly by a completely toppled office building. The two branches of river and the building, almost enclosed the green field in the a well protected square. There was one side of the field exposed to the rest of the world. The side that faced upstream was mostly open except for a crudely constructed fence with one open gate.
I circled the field, feeling an emotional pull towards it. Something about it felt so… right. The field felt like… home.
As I examined the grass below me, I noticed that a large portion of the debris from the building had actually been organized in to sloppily built shelters. Crude shacks huddled near the building and around them I saw people. From my high vantage point, I could not see them well, but something inside me stirred. The people moved about, full of life.
I realized that what I saw below me was an actual community. A group of people who had retained enough hope to band together in this protected field. A group of people who were doing what they could to survive.
My heart raced and reached out to these people. I wanted to see them. To talk to them. Something about this small hamlet at the edge of a ruined city felt like home, even while I hovered in the air above. Maybe something about this place held a key to my memories. Was this my home previously? Did I know somebody here? The thoughts raced through my head and excited me.
I did not want to land in the field, just in case the people turned out to be like those I saw in the mall. In spite of my emotions, I decided it best to maintain caution and I searched for somewhere to land near the open gate near the river.
While flying about, something caught my eye on the opposite side of the river. I had been paying so much attention to this little field that I had not even surveyed what lay on the other side of the river and beyond the chain link fence. Past the fence was a desert valley. The valley stretched for miles and miles and was nestled comfortably amongst a few low mountains. The desert was the sort that was full of rocks and sagebrush and cracked, red dirt.
At the top of the lowest mountain, I saw a reflection of light, the thing that caught my attention. My gaze kept shifting between this small oasis and the intermittent reflecting light in the distance. The oasis wasn’t moving. I would come back to it. This light… this light had me too curious. It was moving down the low mountain slowly. Down and towards the city.
I veered the helicopter over the river and out toward the desert valley, nestled amongst these mountains. More reflections. More and more appeared at the top of the mountain and began to move down. As I neared, I began to see that it was clearly metal. Metal objects rolling down the mountain. Vehicles? Dark shapes began to take form, like ants on an anthill.
As I neared, terror gripped me. I knew these shapes. There were hundreds… no, more were coming over the crest of this mountain. Thousands.
Why did I know these?
Memories! These things were embedded somewhere in my lost memories!
Monsters. Machines. Machines created by… I couldn’t remember. I had to know! I recognized their shapes. They actually did look like ants. Four legged, metallic monstrosities. It was something about how they were made. Something about their programming.
Why could I not remember?
I had to know! I knew these things too well!
Was I involved with these machines? This swarm?
I had no struggle in my mind trying to discern what these robotic things were here for. I knew what they were enough to know that they killed people. I felt as if I was starting to remember. A fault in a programmers code? A virus? An intentional sabotage?
Whatever it was, these things destroyed the city. No… they were not the cause of it. They were involved, I knew that much. But they were not the ultimate threat that destroyed everything.
I had no time to ponder anything further. I had to act.
Why now? Why were they coincidentally coming now that I was here?
No, it was not coincidental that they were here. Maybe coincidental that I was? No, that wasn’t right. It couldn’t be coincidence that brought me here. Was it that man from earlier?
More pondering. Not now.
I piloted the helicopter closer towards the swarm. Their destination was clear now. Or at least one stop on the way to their destination.
My oasis.
My little patch of paradise.
They would not touch it.
I flicked several switches on the console and gripped the controls tight. I flew sideways and fired my weapons. My helicopter strafed along the machines as the machine guns tore the metal creatures apart. The front line went down easy.
Red lights lit up on the front of all the machines as my guns worked their mayhem. The thousands of ant-like robots shifted their bodies and focused on me.
Instinctively, I flew higher and away from the mechanical creatures. I turned my gunship around and fired a pair of my missiles in to their masses. The impact destroyed a fair amount of them. In return, they fired upon me with small machine guns. Their range was poor, but not so poor that they couldn’t hit me. I had to retreat further as a few bullets pelted the shell of my flying machine.
Guns. I should have known they had them. It was stupid of me to forget that.
Forget what? How did I know? How could I have known?
I flew in a wide circle, flanking the machines as they attempted to fire upon me. My own guns created havoc in their ranks. My missiles made small craters in the ground and took out groups of the motorized ants, but did little to truly thin their numbers.
I flew and fought on instinct.
What role did I play in this? Did I help make these things? No, that did not feel right. Why did I know so much about them when I knew nothing even about myself? It was as if knowledge was being implanted in to my own mind. As if these portions of memory were being forced upon me as I encountered these familiar things. As far as I could tell, I never had anything to do with these things before. I just somehow knew a little bit of what they were and was left to guess about why.
More and more of my missiles screamed through the air. The jet propelled lances of destruction. They tore through the ranks of the metal things with ease. With the range of the missiles, I was easily out of the line of fire of the meager guns on the ants.
Suddenly, my helicopter made a loud, repeating clicking noise as tried to fire. My weapons! They were gone! I had depleted my stock.
I was frantic. I should have plenty of ammunition left in my machine guns, but I had to get close enough to the mechanized monsters so that they could also hit me.
For some reason, I started looking around inside my helicopter for anything. Not that it would do any good. The stress of my situation was too overbearing. The things were proceeding through the valley and towards my oasis.
My oasis.
It was mine. It held such a high value that there was no way on heaven or earth that it could be bought or sold. It was the one light in a perpetual night. It was what I was here for. I was here to save that tiny utopia that sat in the middle of Hell itself.
Looking on the floor behind my seat, I saw a box with a “warning: explosives” label. I let go of the controls of the helicopter briefly and it started to bank. I scanned the console in front of me quickly and set the controls for autopilot how I needed. The helicopter held steady in the air when I let go of the controls and took my feet off the pedals. I was very grateful that this machine was advanced enough to hold steady in the air on auto.
Why did I know this much? I had to have been a…
No! Focus! No time! The machines were nearing the city.
I hopped over the console in to the back and tore the lid off the box of explosives. Grenades! The box was full of grenades! I threw open the side door of the helicopter with so much force that the pieced together machine lost its door. It fell off the hinges and in to the swarm of ants below. I lost my balance and quickly grabbed on to the side of the machine before I fell out. There would be no fencing to catch me this time if I fell.
I braced myself and dropped a live grenade out the side. I leaned out and watched it explode among a group of the ants. I tossed grenade after grenade, quickly depleting half the box. The front line of them was too far away now. I had to catch up with it. I placed the box on the passenger seat and hopped back over the console in to my seat. I caught up with the front line just in time to see four missiles streak through the air by me and destroy a good amount of the robots.
I turned and saw two helicopters arrive at the scene. Both were repaired haphazardly from parts that obviously didn’t belong, but held well enough for them to fly, just like my machine. In the pilot seat of each of the heavily armed, aerial monsters was my female friend and the kind man.
My heart leaped for joy as they both flew around the battlefield, firing their own missiles in to the hordes below. With renewed vigor, I flew to one side of the valley, flanking the advancing ants. I angled myself just right and flew close and swift. Machine guns tore through the robots as I strafed them, while the missiles of my friends created further havoc. The robots had somehow not calculated that I would make such a bold maneuver, flying so close to them and were not positioned right to retaliate.
With the help of my friends, their missiles, the remainder of my grenades, and swift tactics, the battle was over. A couple hours of guns firing, explosions and stress, it was finished. I breathed deep and slumped down in my seat, relieved.
My friends had flown in close to me, as close as they safely could. Probably much closer than what they should have. I was nervous with how close our spinning blades were to each other.
The girl smiled a warm smile at me and the man grinned and waved. They both nodded at me and we all understood: if we saw each other again, it wouldn’t be for quite some time. They had their own tasks to set to. This was goodbye.
I suppressed tears and waved, returning their smiles.
They turned and flew away, down river from my position.
I surveyed the damage below me. Scrap metal and craters littered the desert valley. A stray ant hobbled towards the city, coming within fifty yards of the river. I flew low and fired a few rounds, permanently disabling it.
I stayed relatively low and flew a little over the fence that lined the side of the river opposite my green field. People lined the fence, staring at my helicopter and the wreckage of robots in the field.
I flew a little upstream of the field and finally landed in an open street, just outside the one opening to my oasis. Before I powered down the victorious, flying beast, I glanced at the fuel gauge. Empty! It was nothing short of a miracle that kept me aloft. I laughed to myself, thinking about how even a minute longer in the air could have been disastrous.
I got out of the helicopter and stared at the opening to the field. I was suddenly very nervous. It only now occurred to me that people had already claimed this field. I did not have claim to it. Why did I feel so possessive of it? What if I asserted myself, went in to the field, and maintained such possession of it and the people there rejected it? Allowed me no part of this tiny piece of paradise.
I did not even know what sort of people were there. They had obviously banded together in to some sort of community, but what if they were like the vile, despicable traders of human parts in the mall? What if they were like that small family that resided under the chain fence that had saved my life earlier when I fell out of the helicopter? All huddled together, too terrified to do anything.
Night was starting to fall. I had a strong feeling that I did not want to be on the streets at night. I needed shelter. The day had been long, and I needed food and rest. The plot before me was my only viable option unless I could find some way to refuel my helicopter and fly in to the safety of the mountains. I scoffed at the idea. They weren’t safe. For all I knew, there could be another army of the mechanical ants out in the hills.
I took a deep breath and walked in to the field. The last shred of sunlight extended my shadow far in to the grass. There was no way I would enter unnoticed.
I was quickly greeted by a boy, probably about thirteen or fourteen years of age. He asked if I was the one flying out there. If it was me who shot up all the metal ants. I found myself suddenly very shy, even in front of this one boy. I nodded and briefly said that it was me. The boy ushered me to follow him. He told me that the mayor wanted to see me.
I was so nervous. I don’t know why for sure, but to meet people… if they were anything like this boy, they would be full of life. They would not have those dark, empty, hopeless eyes.
I was led to the back end of the field. Most of the green patch was empty, except for the grass. Against the toppled building, further back than it looked from the air, were all the makeshift hovels. Shacks were built close together out of plates of metal, sheets of plastic, warped boards and chunks of concrete. The quality of the construction didn’t bother me in the least. The fact that people had been trying uplifted my spirit.
Finally, the boy brought me in to the middle of all the buildings, where everything was lit up by fires in pits and barrels. A crowd of people around a large fire pit quickly dispersed. Only a few of the men didn’t disappear in to the shadows of their crude buildings.
One of the men, probably in his late fifties, approached me and asked me the same questions that the boy asked me. If I was the one who flew the helicopter and stopped those robots. I was now feeling quite embarrassed, being put on the spot in what looked like the town center. I had a fairly large audience. I humbly answered that it was me who had done that, but that my friends helped. The man proclaimed that I had saved them all. He briefly stated that those machines had been seen in other parts of the city, and that they killed everyone they came across. He told me that nobody in their town knew what to do when they saw me flying over their town. Then when they saw the machines, they weren’t sure if I was leading them or opposing them. There was no time to evacuate, so the people were all resigned to the fate of death, should it come.
I looked in to the eyes of the man as he spoke. He kept talking for some time, mostly about how the people were feeling about the battle I had just come from and about their fear. I paid little attention. Instead, my gaze kept moving from the man, who was apparently the chosen mayor of this small community, to the curious eyes of the people surrounding me. I learned so much about these people just by looking in to their eyes.
They were all terrified. It was not a terror like that of some of the people that scrambled from me in the ruins of the city. It was a longer lasting fear. They were afraid for something far greater. They were not afraid so much for their selfish lives, but rather for the world as a whole. I saw a deep rooted fear for the future. These people had so much more life than those I had seen so far. Their eyes glowed with a faint light of life, but it was clear that they were still living in hopelessness.
The mayor asked me what I thought. I didn’t know what he meant. I must have missed his question. He asked again, what I thought about staying with their meager community. He apologized for the slum like state that they currently lived in and said that he wished he could offer better accommodations to the hero of their town.
I laughed and denied any sort of heroism, though I had a hard time refuting him. I had no desire to accept the title or any sort of embellishment that came with it. I couldn’t help but smile from ear to ear at the man’s offer for me to stay. The joy I felt, and the rightness of everything caused me to laugh in rapture. I couldn’t help but feel immense excitement at the prospect of life in this community.
The man offered me dinner and my stomach growled in response. I joined him and several others in a small meal of celebration. The food they prepared was all out of cans, which they had scavenged out of some decrepit grocery stores and cooked over the fires. It was like candy to me. The man then expressed further sorrow that he could not throw a large feast. They had to ration what food they had while they continually scavenged for more.
Thoughts began to fill my head as I remembered the vegetables I grabbed as I exited the mall earlier today. It was apparent that somebody was growing large amounts of food, so why weren’t they here? The mayor wasn’t sure how to answer. For some reason, they never thought it was a plausible feat, to grow things in this apocalyptic environment. Talk of gathering seeds and growing crops in this oasis seemed to get the mayor excited. Several other people perked up and hope began to fill them as they conversed about various vegetables and fruits that they could grow. One of the people even mentioned something about catching a few animals and breeding them for food.
As I should have expected, there were plenty of objections. Cynicism was deeply rooted in the people. They had seen too much negative so far. Since the world as good as ended, there has been little good. The pessimism in the people brought practical objections forth, such as methods of growing things, storage, tools, and then the attraction of their food to other people in the ruins.
I smiled and shrugged at every comment. Almost everything could be overcome if we could simply find a nearby building that once acted as a hardware store. Such a store would have tools, lumber, and everything needed to cultivate some fields for small farms. It would provide the means of construction of a few better quality buildings for storage and housing. I even explained that immigrants in to this community would be no trouble as long as everyone was given a job and kept busy to help sustain this society.
I was soon left completely out of all conversation as the men and women of the village gathered in to the now excited conversations all around. Everyone, even the children, was discussing with a powerful fervor the things they could do.
After some time, the mayor smiled at me and clasped me on the shoulder. He told me that efforts in protecting them from the machines have stirred something in the people. He told me that my optimism and hope may have now just saved their community from a threat that might even be worse than the murderous robots. That if I was going to stay with them and maintain this hope, that I would save them from becoming like the empty, soulless people scattered throughout the city. He expressed the hope that maybe… just maybe, this small community could grow and prosper and maybe even spread to save the whole city.
I rested well that night in a sleeping bag provided by the mayor in his shack. The next day, I woke, excited for what was to come. I exited the mayors shack to be greeted by a large group of people. The attention actually irritated me to a point, although I was flattered. Already, people were discussing plans of farming and construction. Quite a few people had worked construction and agriculture before everything turned to ruin and could easily guide our efforts. A few people were familiar enough with the surrounding area to know where a couple hardware stores were and even a few trucks that they could get working to haul supplies.
One concern was brought up by a timid woman. That of protection. She mentioned the evil people who sold slaves and cut up people for parts. What would they do if those people came for their community?
I had one idea. One that I hoped wasn’t in vain. I led several people to my helicopter, hoping that I would find what I was looking for. In the back of the machine, I was much relieved to find several crates. Me and the men opened the crates. A couple crates were full of rations. I couldn’t help but wonder where my friends had gotten all these supplies from. We opened the rest of the crates to find weapons. They were full of pistols and rifles and ammunition. There were even a couple larger crates of missiles that belonged to my helicopter. We carried all these back to the small village.
It was quickly proposed that a full, operational gate be constructed at the entrance to the field. A heavy gate that could be closed quickly if needed. The talk of security and the presence of the weapons raised the morale of the community even further.
The rest of the day, and the next few days were spent gathering supplies from all the nearby abandoned stores that we could find. At the end of the week, the whole community was so bustling with activity and excitement that farms had been completely planted. The river was used as irrigation and the shallow foundations for three buildings had been dug and the concrete was being poured in. The process was difficult and tedious without the aid of heavy machinery, but with the participation of everyone, down to the youngest of the children in some way, progress was made with surprising speed.
Days went by productively and hopes amongst everyone soared. A fair amount of people were even gathered in to our community from the ruins. Even some of those empty, comatose people were dragged in and their despair quickly left.
As the society grew in several ways, the issue of a name came up. It was unanimously decided that I should choose the name for the community, as long as everyone agreed. I knew immediately what to call our small village. Not one person argued against the name Oasis Hope.
I grew very quickly to love this community and the people. My emotion for them was running deep. I maintained a measure of possessiveness for them. I felt like I needed to protect these people. As time went on, I felt more and more like their protector and it seemed that many people felt the same about me: That I was there to protect them, not just physically, but emotionally as well. I was their paladin of sorts. I graciously accepted that role that was tacitly placed upon me.
A few dissensions and arguments erupted within the community, as was expected, but nothing lasted long. Those few that disagreed with matters to an extreme degree tended to leave. Me and the mayor managed to at least maintain good relations with those that left the community. Even those that left in anger held the mayor, myself, and the community in such respect that they left with high hopes. They left in promises of starting their own communities that would help the whole city prosper. They would trade with our community and would never forget us as friends.
The community took a day off occasionally, about once a week. Depending on how tired the people were collectively from their hard labor, sometimes two days were taken off. Nobody had any sense of days of the week anymore, so we just began to call our regular days off, the weekend, in token remembrance of the weekends before the apocalypse.
It was on these weekends that I would try to get to know people better. We would hold parties of sorts, and with portable generators scrounged from around the city, we would power up various devices, especially CD players and have dances.
It was during one of these times that I tried to socialize with a group of young adults who appeared to be my age.
My age. I laughed at myself as I didn’t even know what that was exactly. I knew I was in my early twenties. Probably about twenty three or twenty four. Maybe I was twenty five.
I found myself trying to connect with these people, and although we enjoyed each others company, I did not quite fit in with them as well as I did as with the older people who led the community. I didn’t care so much as I was more amused by the cliques that I fit in to.
While socializing on what we had termed our weekend, I saw a girl whom I had seen before, but never talked to. It was strange because I was becoming very well acquainted with everyone in the community, even with those who had a personality that seemed to clash with mine. The girl sat against the large, toppled structure that lined one side of the field and fidgeted with a puzzle made of metal rings; one of the things brought back from the ruins. I sat next to her and she deliberately kept her gaze at the ground. I found her to be a fairly attractive girl. She had long, dirty blonde hair and the sort of face that would be described by many as cute and pretty, but not the super model sort of beautiful. I found her to be very appealing physically.
I mentioned that it was funny that I still didn’t know her full name, while I was pretty sure I knew every other person’s name in the village. She spoke her name quietly, obviously one of the more introverted girls. I talked with her for quite some time, forcing conversation. After a while, she warmed up to me and she became more and more willing to talk. Once she started talking and was comfortable, she had a lot to say. I smiled and let her talk freely, knowing that she didn’t often talk to others. She was very shy normally, and didn’t interact much with others outside of whatever job she was appointed.
Days went by and me and this girl talked more and more. We found ourselves making excuses to work on the same projects as each other. Whenever I was needed in one task somewhere in the community, she was try to find something to do that was related, and I found myself doing the same around her specific tasks when I could. I even found myself occasionally shirking my duties just to spend a few extra minutes with her. Often, others I worked with, especially those who were in the middle aged group encouraged it with a laugh. I found that they had always liked this girl, but had always felt sorry for her, not knowing how to help her fit in with the community more. They were very happy that she and I were becoming involved in a serious relationship with each other. I was reluctant to admit to a relationship for some reason, but I had no reserve in admitting to this girl now being my best friend as we spent so much time together.
Almost a month had passed. Some crops were starting to grow already. Nothing could be harvested yet, but the visible progress was exciting. A few drives beyond the city limits had found a couple abandoned farms where some of the livestock were still alive and wandering wild. Some of these we had penned and were now attempting to breed and raise for food. Water was being purified through various filters we had found and built. From out searches of the city, we had a huge stock of dry and canned foods and medicines. We had finished one building that was now being use as our warehouse and had made excellent progress on other structures.
My oasis was blooming.
My lack of memories no longer bothered me. The people of the village seemed to think nothing of it and had accepted me from the beginning, in spite of my lack of history. It was a trivial thing now. Nobody, myself included, was looking to the past. Everything was about our work in the present and for the future.
Something that was said earlier… A month. Thirty days.
Suddenly the soothsayer from the mall came to my memory. The words she spoke. That my life would be taken in hope. Dread filled me. If I had kept track of days enough, this was the thirtieth day I had been in this town. I wasn’t sure what to do, so I carried on like normal throughout the day. I kept looking over my shoulder, wondering if someone would make an attempt on my life. Wondering if maybe a construction project would fall apart with me in it. Worry was a close companion this day.
The people had planned a celebration to commemorate the first month of the prosperity of Oasis Hope. A genuine feast was being readied for this evening. A couple people, familiar with explosives had taken apart some of my helicopter’s missiles and used the gunpowder to make some fireworks for that night. A party was going to be held this night.
The general labor was finished for that day and I found my new friend. She and I hugged tightly and stayed with each other for the entire celebration, our hands clasped tightly together most of the evening. The night was dark and cool and the people of the town gathered around a large fire pit to hear the mayor speak. He praised the town and the people for their hard work. He rejoiced in the progress we had made. He talked of future plans for Oasis Hope. He even talked a little bit about the progress that some of our sister towns had made, as others had begun similar communities elsewhere. He then praised me and my arrival in the town. My faced flushed red during his comments and I wished that he wouldn’t go on so much. He even talked about making a memorial in my honor. Jokingly, I retorted that as long as I am alive, I won’t let that happen. It was suddenly clear to me then, that the mayor and most of the town intended this celebration to be for me as he continued talking about how none of this would have ever happened, even if they had somehow survived the mechanical ants that threatened them that day. There was no way that they would have had the hope and drive to move on without me.
I was too flattered and embarrassed to participate in any more of the festivities that night, which were few. I was grateful that the last large event planned for that night was the fireworks show, which had little to do with me.
Everyone spread out on in the field as the fireworks went off. The multicolored explosions lit up Oasis Hope as I laid back. My friend had sat on the grass next to me. She laid her head on my chest and watched the dazzling show before us. At some point, early in the display, we sealed our relationship with our first kiss.
Just like the soothsayer had said. My life was taken. It made sense to me. This girl and this town, Oasis Hope had consumed my life, and I was glad to give it to them.
The dream ended exactly like this, only with a few different emotions. In the actual dream, I laid in the grass with this girl, and I started crying, tears of sadness knowing that I was going to die. The dream ended and I never knew if I actually died or not, so I decided to put a slightly different perspective on it.