She Smelled Like Lilacs

Mankind had ignored the wakeup call of the Covid virus and worldwide drought. Then came 2033 when half the world’s population perished to extreme drought, weather and disease. Many who had survived, violently lost their lives in the nuclear war that followed as world leaders vied for supremacy and control of shrinking resources. Those with the ability to influence change, chose instead to prefer profit over hope for a future for their children and grandchildren.

I often sat for a minute to remember how growing up in Northern New Mexico was an adventure for a young boy with a dog named ‘tippy’ as a sidekick. Back then pine trees dotted the mountains, with rising rock faces far above the rivers winding down peaceful valleys. Whispering winds told the stories of times passed. If you were quiet enough, you could almost hear life pulsing from one moment to the next in a never-ending paradise. Deer played in the tall grasses as majestic birds effortlessly floating watched overhead. Rivers were full of trout which held the promise of tasty meals around the dining table. Seasons were distinct as they marked time from one year to the next.

When the towns and villages began to fall to decay and rot, my family and I chose the long trek from the Sangre de Cristo mountains further north to the Cimarron wilderness and Grandma’s house. We knew there would be more water and food sources in the Rockies. Every once and awhile we would meet other pilgrims in search of that ‘holy land’ where one could survive.

One gentleman, a lone traveler, had stayed with us a few days. We were cautious about most we met. However, Lawrence and I bonded over our shared experiences as military veterans. We traded a lot of survival tips and though he was welcome, he felt he needed to continue and that we would only slow him down. He said he was on his way to Trinidad, Colorado. I appreciated his honesty. After a month or so on foot, Emily and I eventually made it to Grandma Mary’s in Cimarron Pass. She was a strong woman yet we were actually surprised to find her alive.

She smelled like lilacs. Every time I smelled lilacs, I thought of Grandma Mary. Her quiet smile and gentle blue-grey eyes had seen so many through the most difficult of times. The heat and arid high desert air had long since taken the lilacs and now, she was finding this new world surrounding her a challenge to her age. With temperatures continuously above 100 degrees Fahrenheit, Grandma found it hard to breath.

A year had passed since our arrival. Grandma had now weakened to the point of laying on a bed for two weeks recounting stories of her childhood. Sadly, we knew her time was passing and our job would be to make it as comfortable as we could. Emily would bath her several times a day and I would hunt for small game and bugs to make a broth that she could sip. The moment came when she barely whispered and stopped taking the broth.

Grandma had always worn a locket. She shared that it had been passed from her grandmother to her mother and then, to her. She told me that she had promised her locket to my mother. My mother however had died during the Covid virus years of 2020 to 2025. Now she asked me to take it for my daughter Emily. I gently removed the worn yellow chain from Grandma’s neck with a promise. As I grasped the treasure in my hand, she smiled. A tear left her eyes, rolled down her pale cheek, she exhaled and was gone. I prayed that I would never forget her, nor the lilacs that had once framed her little high desert home.

As I walked away from the home near the trickle of a river, the hot morning air was quick to remind me that food and water are scarce. My wife and sons had all passed in recent years and I was finding it harder to feed Emily and myself. I remember when Emily was little, she would avoid entering her room for days after finding a cockroach in a corner. Now, we acquired the taste and delighted, laughing at the crunch of the protein rich meal. With Grandma’s passing it was time for Emily and I to continue further North… maybe to Trinidad.

We have 50 miles to cover and have only early morning when the temperatures are safe enough for travel. It’s best to stay in the valleys where we may find water and avoid the old highways. Raton pass would be a challenging uphill battle rising 1,000 feet in just a few miles. Hopefully we will find a cave to stay for the next night. At least, enough branches and greenery for a lean-to. We decided to leave first thing in the morning. We would have to travel light. Choosing what was absolutely necessary was critical. We would not be returning.

I had a 9 mm pistol with four clips, 52 rounds left and I had my pocket knife which I kept razor sharp. Like my ‘little girl’, these never left my side. We woke just before sunrise and set out hoping to make fifteen miles to the outskirts of what had once been Raton. We stopped by the stream for water and to dig up a few earthworms for breakfast. We soaked our head covers in water to help cool and started out. The walk along the path at the base of the mountain was sad – the further we walked the more dead trees we noticed.

We persevered for three and a half hours and hit our mark. Our shelter for the night would be under some trees that had fallen onto large rocks at the base of Raton Pass. From our perch on the side of the mountain, we could see a McDonald’s sign and what looked like a Denny’s sign near the old I-25. Tempting as it was to venture to find coach roaches there, we decided against the unknown. We would forage for what we needed where we were at.

We slept well that night, exhausted from the walk. As we gathered our stuff together, we planned our days travel knowing the terrain would be a steep climb over difficult ground. It seemed reasonable to expect five to eight miles of walking. We were now only 35-miles from our destination. After a quick inventory, we set out.

There were plants in the pass which was a good sign of water and possibly wildlife. Emily laughed as she shared a story recounting some of her mom’s favorite jokes. My wife was a stellar mom and was Emily’s best friend. I could tell through the laughter she missed her mom. Two and a half hours into our walk we smelled smoke. It seemed prudent to stop and observe, trying to discern the source and direction of the smoke. It appeared to be coming from higher up on the pass.

The day faded to night. Suddenly, faintly, I could hear what sounded like laughter from up the trail. I told Emily I would go check it out. She insisted on going, not wanting to be left alone. So that we could travel lightly, we left our gear except for the pistol, the four clips of ammo, my knife and some rope. As we slowly crept forward, we once again smelled smoke, and burning meat. The laughter grew. To our left was a large outcropping of rocks that looked scalable. I asked her to stay put and I would climb for a better view.

I reached the top and to my horror saw a dozen or so people gathered at a fire with what looked like a small pig staked across the fire. As a man carved a piece and placed it into his mouth, another talked about there was enough for two or three days and they would have to hunt for another. They were all men. All I could think of at that moment was Emily’s safety. I tried to discern a path around their camp. There was none, the valley was too narrow to go through unnoticed. We would have to retreat to deal with the threat later on.

I felt the sudden surge of adrenalin and awoke as I quickly made my way down. Emily took one look at me and knew that things had turned for the worse. I told her that she had to keep it together and stay calm. I explained what was before us may be a matter of life or death. I told her there were a dozen raucous men camped a hundred yards up. When I brought up retreating, she begged me, crying to find another way forward. I assured her there was no other way and that she needed to trust me. She insisted. We decided to get back to our camp and wait for the next day and reconnoiter.

In the morning we walked back up where we had seen the men and they were still there, a few napping. It occurred to me that the old highway was to our right and up a cliffside. From where we were it looked scalable. If we could get up the side, we may be able to stay on the highway just long enough to get past the men and back down to the valley. Just then, I remembered the locket. I pulled it from my pocket, told her the story of how it was handed down to her. She smiled a shy “thank you” and put it on.

It took an hour to carefully, quietly climb the rock side to the old I-25. My feet slipped several times and I thought I would fall to my death. I struggled to breathe and my legs felt weak. We moved up staying close to the concrete medium for about a mile and then started our descent back down to the valley floor. Going down seemed to take forever and was more precarious than was our ascent. We made it just in time. The air was well above 110 degrees Fahrenheit. It was time to make camp.

While Emily built a lean-to, I found a moist patch of ground and started digging for dinner. It seemed a little hotter than the day before and my lungs strained to find the next breath. I felt weak and headed back to Emily with what little I had found in the ground. As I neared, I tried to call her name and could barely hear my own whisper. She said, “dad!” The pain in my torso was too great and I collapsed.

I woke up and it was daylight, but I couldn’t tell if it was morning or evening. As I lay on a bed of grass. Staring into my daughter’s tearful eyes. I am thinking about the old cliché about a parent’s worst nightmare of having to watch your child pass before you. They got it all wrong! Today I am leaving Emily alone in a world that is a living hell. I won’t be here to protect her any longer. This is my worst nightmare! I see the dull shimmer of the gold locket on her neck, and suddenly with my last breath, “I smell the lilacs!”