Vanguard | Post-Apocalyptic YA

Part 2: How My World Ended

"Let me get this straight," Ray ponders as he jogs next to me on a treadmill in Tower Two's gym. "Just because you saw some lights in a forest for a couple of seconds, you think that there are people who survived the greatest natural catastrophe to befall the Earth since the dinosaurs became extinct?"

"Yes," I exhale the word.

"And you want me to go with you – breaking at least five articles in the Maritime Code – in the hopes that we'd find proof that we can move the entire population of Vanguard back onto land after twenty five years?" he asks, the pitch of his voice increasing proportionally with his skepticism.

"Well, not immediately," I relent. "But that's the long-term objective, yes."

We're free to talk openly because the clattering of weights and the humming of exercise machines drowns out our conversation. But I don't know why Ray's asking all this because we've been over this topic front and back continuously since I got suspended a week ago. Although I've used every argument that I can think of, he's still not convinced that there's a possibility that anyone would still be alive topside. I agree it's a long shot, but if there's any chance that things could go back to normal, I have to keep pushing.

We were the lucky ones. Our families were allowed onto Vanguard. But many, many others were left to just take care of themselves. Maybe now it's our turn to finally give them the help they were denied. It's kind of ironic, because I actually don't even know what normal is. For me, it just means the way life was before the world ended.

While it's documented that there were many signs of the impending doom, there wasn't much anyone could do against it even if they'd paid attention. Global warming was generations in the making and eventually there wasn't a way to reverse its effects. Seasons started becoming nonexistent, first with winters getting warmer and then summers getting cooler. Spring and autumn slowly blended into their predecessors, affecting not only crop production, but also melting polar ice caps. Rising sea levels and decreasing air quality encroached on the already overpopulated usable land, but the final strike from Mother Nature was also the deadliest. The worldwide thinning of the ozone layer allowed for deadly radiation to reach the Earth's surface in unbearable doses.

Although its original purpose was to test how people could self-sufficiently live in space, Vanguard was a perfect sanctuary for those it could hold. The problem was that it was designed for five thousand, which was less than the number of people who worked in the space program. But even that status wasn't enough for them and their families to get automatic access. Government officials, including the President of the United States, took up many of the slots. Then came the scientists who were needed not only to make sure that the undersea base stayed operational, but also to perhaps one day help reestablish mankind above ground.

Relocation was so swift that there wasn't too much time to extend the necessary invitations, nor did those in charge want to make the process too public. Therefore, almost everyone in Vanguard ended up being from the eastern coast of the US. Whether any other country was able to make similar preparations is unknown. Since my father is an engineer who helped design and build the station, there was no question of his importance. He met my mother on board; Ellen and I were born a couple of years later.

Ah, Ellen. It's as if she knows I'm thinking about her because the devil with a ponytail merrily bounces through the door.

"What does she want?" Ray grumbles.

Seeing that she's heading straight for us, I know we're about to find out.

"Am I interrupting?" she asks with an artificial smile. Of course she knows she's interrupting.