The Inkwell presents: Facing the Consequences

Final Hope

Written by C. Simpson

"Captain, you have to choose, we don't have much time!" The sound echoed in his ears, barely registering over the roar of the flames. Metal bent at ungodly angles as it melted from the high heat, squeezing every inch out of the already claustrophobic nightmare that was his ship.

"Captain, do you copy?" His mouth opened, but the thick, acrid smoke sat heavy on his tongue, suffocating the words before they could be spoken.

The brightly lit panel before him sputtered and sparked, its life dwindling. Monitors above, intermittently hazy and grainy, allowed only an occasional clear view. The left one remained dark; the right wavered between static and a surveillance feed. A boy on that screen sat on a metal bench, legs rocking back and forth. He looked up at the camera and smiled, hand clasping a tiny metal ship, maneuvering high, and then crashing towards the ground before it regained its imaginary control. The boy's lips puckered. It was impossible to hear the fictitious engine noise through the slowly fading monitor but, somehow, he could still sense it echoing in his mind while gazing at the dissolving image.

"Captain? Are you still alive? Answer us, please!" This time the voice was soft, feminine. They were desperate—all of them.

The hallway caving in from behind snapped him from the monitors and his thoughts. Red-hot ash exploded into the room. His eyes were drawn to one of the larger pieces as its colors came alive, shifting and dancing throughout its journey. It would be beautiful had it not been a sign of imminent death. The ash gave one last flutter of life before going dark, disappearing into the wall of smoke serving as a barrier to the rest of the ship.

The reality of the situation weighed heavily on his soul. He felt the heat now, the screams echoing around his metal tomb, a constant realization this would soon be the end. His hands hovered over the panel before him. Two holographic icons stared back.

"Captain, I know you can hear me. You know what you have to do." Balling his hands up, he pushed them against his ears. How was this fair? How was any of this fair? He never asked for this. His fists slammed hard on the fragile glass paneling, sending tiny spider web cracks darting across the screen. His breath quickened, his eyes burned; the smoke was getting thicker.

He wouldn't last much longer, not at this rate. The decision still haunted him. Out of the corner of his eye, a hint of blue caught his attention. He turned and walked towards the small, left porthole window, Earth now his focus.

It was always so beautiful. Even when the plague first took hold, the beauty of nature remained. As panic and fear began taking over, erasing any hope remaining, still her beauty held firm. As millions perished, the bodies of the dead quickly outnumbering the living, the earth took back what was rightfully hers.

From here you'd never expect the hell awaiting. Deep blue oceans, green forests, sandy deserts; it all looked so welcoming from this tiny window. Behind him, his own hell crackled and smoked. Voices shrieked around the cabin, but they were quickly drowned out by his thoughts. It seemed death followed him closely, never allowing a moment's reprieve.

His eyes locked onto his country—his state— the closest he could get now to his home. Home. The word felt acidic on his lips. He had no home. Most of those he knew on that beautiful blue marble were gone: friends, family, neighbors. He watched them all die. No one knew how the plague first began. Honestly, as the bodies began piling up, the how of it all seemed less important than the why. It started off so simple: a few dozen travelers complaining of a fever, stomach pain, and a little rash, then growing into the unimaginable.

As the days grew, so did the number of infected. No amount of protection seemed enough. The rash gave way to boils, then necrosis; no one would ever forget the smell. The screams of those dying, their bodies shredded apart from within, filled the air. Nowhere—and no person—was safe.