"Those who depart from us do not feel the pain of parting; it is those who are left behind who suffer."
-Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
A warm, gentle breeze whispered through the tattered curtains, carrying with it a faint hint of sand. It was the early hours of the morning, and my weary joints protested as I struggled to rise from the bed. The cramped sleeping quarters resembled a haunting shell of its former self—stripped laminate flooring covered in abrasive sand, frayed curtains, and shattered glass that failed to shield us from the malevolent world outside. The bed itself was a mockery, barely deserving of the name. As I stretched, the creaking of my back echoed through the desolate room. My watch displayed a stark half past five, urging me to embrace the impending day.
Grim determination overcame my weariness as I wiped the beads of sweat from my forehead. "I hope the water still flows here," I muttered, my voice swallowed by the oppressive silence.
Water had become a scarce and coveted resource in these bleak years. We embarked on treacherous journeys, traversing the sprawling desert for days in search of elusive drops hidden within cacti or beneath the sheltering embrace of a solitary stone. Those fortunate enough might discover abandoned houses where the water supply remained intact—for now.
Exiting the sleeping quarters, I entered the desolate bathroom. Its door had long been torn away, leaving behind a void. The stripped walls and missing fixtures painted a haunting picture. No trace of the shower remained, and the shattered mirror lay scattered across the floor like fragmented memories. A thin layer of sand had invaded the space, weaving itself into the fabric of our existence. Gazing at my reflection amidst the shards, my fingers absentmindedly traced the frayed edges of my worn protective suit, a testament to the trials it had endured. The tattered remnants of the American flag barely clung to the fabric, and faded crimson streaks whispered of battles fought. I released a bitter smile, reminiscing about the day I received this vestige of protection—eons ago.
In my thoughts, I stepped out of the bathroom, having refreshed my face with the meagre trickle of lukewarm water. I had refilled my flask, knowing that every drop counted in this parched world. The air, as I walked trough the hallway carried a heavy scent of decay and neglect, permeating every corner of the abandoned building we had sheltered in. Broken tiles crunched under my worn-out boots as I made my way through the desolate structure, the remnants of a bygone era. Through a cracked window, the feeble rays of sunlight seeped in, casting a pale glow upon the decaying walls. Dust danced in the filtered light, like spectral whispers of forgotten lives. I couldn't help but wonder what stories these walls held, what lives were shattered within their confines.
"Jason," a voice whispered, floating through the shadows of the living room. Startled, I shook off my reverie. "Yes?"
"There's something you need to see," the voice beckoned.
"But be discreet," added another voice, their words carried on the edge of caution.
Complying with their request, I followed the faint glow of their presence. As I slowly approached the living room, one figure raised a hand, signifying silence. The other figure remained on all fours, motionless.
"What is it?" I began, but their collective shushing halted my words.
With measured steps, I closed the distance to the figures. When I stood a mere meter away, the figure on all fours whispered, "Look here, next to my hand." Squinting against the dim light of the dawning day, I crouched down and fixed my gaze on the designated spot. A profound silence enveloped the room, pregnant with anticipation. I whispered to the figure beside me, "You're not toying with me, are you?".
YOU ARE READING
The Last Hunt
Science Fiction"How many lives can you save in 180 days? As Earth is rocked by the most violent solar storm in history, a startling revelation emerges - the Sun is much older than previously thought, and nearing its death throes. But that's not the only threat on...
