The Last Flower on Earth

The Last Friend

The last word my mother said to me was 'Survive', but I don't know how to.

This feeling is loneliness. True loneliness.

I'm alone.

The panel beside the exit gives information about the surface: temperature, air quality, and ground quality. The stuff I should know if I'm going up.

It's negative 20 above, the air is just below breathable. A filter is recommended as the ash and dust won't do my lungs any good. And there is about a foot of snow on the ground.

And no life.

I play around with the external cameras, no feedback. It was damaged from the constant storming.

Nelson's coat is too big for me, but it has to work. There's a scarf in Lisa's closet to act like a filter and goggles sitting in the garage.

I remember to check the radiation sensor on the panel. 5.24 millisieverts, that's... higher than average, with the average pre-S.C.S.S being 3.65 mSv. But it's not that big a difference.

I bundle up as the doors open; a gust of freezing air cascades into the warm bunker. I step out onto the platform.

Beep, the doors shut as I start to ascend from the bunker for the first time in about a year, I can't remember the date I entered but I have a feeling I skipped my birthday which was... so much has happened.

Grey, if I had to describe everything I see, that's the word I'd use. The ground, the sky, the husks of dead trees, all grey.

A strong gust of wind kicks up the powder and scatters it towards me like a frozen sandstorm, I plant my feet into the ground and cover my face the best I can. The wind blows me onto my back.

I lie hopelessly on the ground as the wind whistles an anxious melody that echoes the screams of those who died when everything else did.

The dark sky with black clouds looms above, I stare up and try to remember everything Lisa taught me. Why did this all happen, why did Neil do everything he did, those memories of murder, rape, and suicide are etched into my mind. I can perfectly picture each one as if they just happened.

I sit myself up as the wind dies down.

As I head back to the lift the ground shakes. A distant building collapses into another causing a domino effect. It is oddly satisfying to watch, the dust getting kicked back up, I stare as the debris settle.

The face of a different building falls.

I sit alone, in silence, as I ponder why I still exist.

The only motivation I have is a single word my mother told me, but I can't remember her voice, her face. When I try to reach back into my memory her defining features are blurred, censored. I can't remember anything about how the world was before.

I try to remember the beautiful mountains from the family trip to... somewhere, but it's a desaturated blur. I hold my head and cry in isolation, as my past begins to no longer exist.

I write down everything I remember about my former life in an attempt to piece the fragments of my memories together.

How old am I? I was in elementary school before the war started, and at least two years have passed, I think I was in my final year. So maybe I'm fourteen or fifteen?

When is my birthday? It was during the spring, don't know which month, and I don't know what season it is outside. It's always cold, everything is cold.